Doctors Are in Customer Service, Too.

I’m thirty years old now and I’ve never learned how to market myself. The idea of it nauseates me completely. But can I really avoid it? My whole life? Can I be poor forever?

Maybe if I was alone, I could. But with a wife and maybe a kid, well the sticking to your principles no matter the cost thing just isn’t as attractive. I’m thinking of just pretending to be someone else for a while. Someone marketable and packaged in cellophane like.

Just for a time you understand.

Great work is meaningless if no one ever hears about it. Genius needs an audience, you know, Benedict Cumberbatch said that. How to get an audience? Well maybe you should get the genius part figured out first. But then again maybe not. Maybe the genius part isn’t important at all. Maybe if you marketed yourself well, you would have time to be a genius later; while if you became a genius first, you might never have time to learn how to let people know that you were and maybe no one would ever hear of you anyway.

Anyway I don’t really care, all I want is a nice house in Mexico and for customers to leave me alone. I asked my friend if he thought he could be a doctor. He said he didn’t know, and anyway it was basically a high-paying customer service job where all your customers are sick and dying.

Customer service sucks. Every year you spend in customer service you become more assured that the world is a cruel place full of assholes. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, power corrupts, and even a small amount of power can make someone look like an asshole.

Maybe if I wrote in a coherent way, I would have more success in communicating my ideas.

Marc Maron Is Genuinely Likable

(Yes, that is how you spell likable.)

Sun is gone, it’s dark out there, coffee is cold, music is on, and the house is cold cold mother fucking cold. God damn it’s cold always cold in my house.

I started listening to the news and shit today thanks to the babe and my recent lapse in narcissism. Marion Barry died, old mayor of Washington, DC. The self-proclaimed Mayor for Life, his term is finally over. Obama did some ambassador appointing in Myanmar. And something about how to cook turkey. So, just American news really. And I listened to Marc Maron’s WTF podcast while I set up the dining room at the restaurant. Yo that guy is the shit.

Yo, what did I tell you about the links? This blog is hooked into the grid like an unfortunate sea gull in this badass piece by Luke Otley. Fucking A I been using the hooked metaphor like three times in the last five minutes. So what you know about that? Nothing.

Marc Maron had this guy on his show, Rhett Miller, of the band called The Old 97s or something like that and I ain’t even going to link that shit because I couldn’t tell you for sure that I condone this mother fucker one iota but I’ll tell you what I do know, I like that mother fucker. He was talking about living the creative life and how he attempted suicide as a kid because he saw this life of meaninglessness set out before him but then afterwards he realized that making good art (Neil Gaiman reference bitches, link that shit yourself) was what made life worth while. I don’t know he said some other shit that was good. Listen to the podcast, what the fuck are you asking me for?

Plus he was going on about dealing with your family on Thanksgiving and that shit was pretty funny. I never really fucked with Marc Maron in the past, I ain’t even heard about him because I don’t read Great Comic Digest but then I saw him on Louis, that show is awesome, and Louis was like shit man I’m sorry, I been holding a grudge against you for thirty years and it was all my fault to begin with! And Marc Maron is like, bitch I know! You said that last year! Ha!

Yeah look that shit up it’s a lot funnier than all that.

Anyway, so that’s the first time I even heard of this guy. I didn’t even know he was a real comic but I checked him out and was like oh okay and that was the end because I figured he was some crotchety mother fucker based on his knobby ass knees and I ain’t really care to get caught up in the codger business so I left it at that.

But then a while ago I heard the WTF podcast and I thought that shit was alright but I really only half heard that shit. Then a while ago I was on stitcher and I really don’t even know why but I listen latered that shit (ya’ll let me know if you can’t keep up with the stitcher lingo, it’s a millennial/hipster/jackoff thing) and then I in fact did listen to it later and it was hilarious. I mean he just starts the show with some crazy shit. He just says shit off the top of his head and it’s exactly what I was thinking! And he has a different voice than I do, but some of his words line up with mine most notably shit and fuck and of course he is a performing artist who is performing so of course that shit sounds outrageously on point.

Yeah so I like that fucker, Marc Maron. But I only listened to two podcasts so far.

And that’s how I end up doing shit you know? Fucking Carl Sagan, I ain’t hear about him for the longest time and then it took a little bit for me to check him out. Hunter Thompson, I remember I’d seen Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas the movie floating around for years and years before I ever checked that shit out. Now he’s my imaginary god father. And Catch-22, my bible, I heard that shit was hot for a long time and I was always like yeah right. What else? Yeah I don’t know I always got to hear some shit like thirty times, like whatever they say about marketing and shit and exposure, and then on top of that I have to be in the right moment to even check it out. And I’ll make myself think I’m begin all impulsive and shit. Fucking marketers.

Hey man but let’s go ahead and end this shit so I can write my shit ass novel already. Alright, I’ll talk to you later. Say hi to Vickram and Ox for me, yeah I’ll be around that way in November of next whenever the fuck. Cat and the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue and the man in the moon. When you coming back son? I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then.

Montezuma Got Stoned to Techno Music

I keep researching how to sell books and shit but I don’t even have a book to sell. I have some other projects that I’m working on for other people to sell, but the strategies I’m reading about won’t work for them. I’m reading them because I want to implement them for myself, but then I can’t because I don’t usually finish writing books.

I think I’m going to make it this time. I’m going to keep pushing forward and fuck it. Just keep doing the same dumb shit that I do best, which is highly ineffective probably…or no that’s the wrong word. Probably highly inefficient, but fuck it. Anyway I’m going to write this story about John Gibson or whatever his name is and the oil crisis in the 70’s. Apparently people would high jack shit back then to get gas. There were riots and shit. Funny how much I don’t know about American history even forty years ago. But American history isn’t special, I don’t know anything about any history forty years ago. I don’t know what the hell I learned in school. I do remember learning about Montezuma because my teacher made this kid stand on the desk and we all threw paper balls at him.

So I think Montezuma got stoned. Which sounds funny.

I think I figured out the daily post bullshit and anyway I guess it’s fine that my other post didn’t make it to the page because I thought they were saying you have to write what you would say to ten-year-old you when they were really saying you have to say what you would say to ten-years-ago you. Little different. I was like, shit why are ten-year-olds going to the coffee shop?

Anyway fuck it. I’m just going to keep writing and listening to sad music and podcasts about American history and writing and maybe that will work.

I just keep writing dumb shit on my blog and so far this has been my best week in views and visitors since last April (not much of an achievement considering in April I had 80 views or something). So maybe if I keep doing this shit for years I’ll find ten people to buy my book and then I’ll just have to finish the damn thing. Or maybe the apocalypse will come before that and I can stop going to work at the restaurant.