Me Write Buk

I write a bit. It’s not heart-healthy, but everyone needs a vice to survive.

To be specific, I’ve been writing since I was twelve. It’s the only skill I’ve refined without getting distracted, bored, or tendinitis (breakdancing is difficult). I’ve done it for free, for money, and to poke Cuomo in the eye. My ego’s tied up in it, so I hope I’m decent.

Writing also kept me going after my mother passed. Alongside alcohol. While they both have reputations, I found that writing became an unstable crutch for emotional repression, while alcohol helped express socially constructive feelings. But, like any addict, I chose my poison of choice over my talent. I kept writing, and let my hard-earned spree-drinking skills wither.

Now I have to live with the consequences. My first book, Everything Abridged, comes out through The Overlook Press in Spring 2022.

It’s a satire collection, because it’s me. If anything I’ve ever popped on this site appeals to you, this book’s for you. Not owning it will create a spiritual void in your life no amount of love or achievement can fill. And all this navel-gazing will be for nothing.

I could babble about stumbling on the way. The failures, treacheries, semi-fraudulent marriage, and intense/uncharacteristically personal disdain for [redacted Princeton University figurehead]*. But I’m just young enough to sweep that all under the rug and build a personal legend as an unstoppable wunderkind. Which I definitely plan to indulge in.

I’m taking the stab at full-time writing I’ve always wanted. It sounds like unemployment, but unemployment comes with government support. I find both vastly preferable to copywriting. There’s a fixed number of ads for poison you can write before a hand reaches up through hell to drag you down. I breached it a year ago.

Thank you. I’m not oblivious to the role this site played in getting this far. I don’t mean the intangible “love and support” wank. Without this audience, I wouldn’t have produced material that led directly to this outcome. Thanks for clicking on the nonsense I put out. It’s the psychic anchor that kept me from feeding ad agency middle managers to mob-owned pigs.

Here’s the news snippet proving I didn’t hallucinate this. We’re in business folks. Stay tuned for either a stereotypical author newsletter, a public meltdown, or promotional pictures of my feet.

*It’s Chang-Rae Lee.</sup?

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