Apocalypse
Oh shit, it's the apocalypse. L is writing a post.
Hello to everyone out there in Blogland, and welcome this evening to another installment of...oh shut the fuck up. It's a Saturday night and I'm hard at work closing the upcoming issue for our Monday deadline. Drafts, proofs, tearsheets, fact-checking, Chinese food, Starbucks and a bunch of tired writers/editors/publishers/designers is all we are offering on the menu this weekend. Unfortunately, none of these things come with a shot of Johnnie.
So where have I been? Around. It's kind of sad that in my extended absence, little has changed. My hair has grown a bit. My gym membership has been put to good use. I scored a freelancing gig with AMNY (check it out for any Asian-sounding names--might be me). I lost some friends, made some new ones and got way too drunk at Hi-Fi on the Lower East Side on too many occasions. And in case you haven't noticed, my "acid tongue" remains intact.
Don't take my lack of posting as an indication that my creativity has dried up. For some time, that was the case, but as of late, it's been very much the contrary. I've been hanging out with a lot of creative people lately, flipped though a lot of portfolios that made my jaw drop, and got into a lot of heated debates about Quentin Tarantino. I've invested in some roomier purses and made a notepad and pen a permanent fixture in my daily carry-on luggage (which is worth it just to see the alien characteristic my handwriting takes on when I've had nine beers). I bought an 80 gig iPod and promptly filled it to capacity with music (I anxiously await the release of the 200 gig model, Mr. Jobs), and the laptop I finally settled on has been click-clacking away into all manner of sleep deprivation. In other words, all I need is a $250 vintage band t-shirt from Andy's Cheepees and some stars tattooed on my forearms and I'll be a full-blown hipster.
As far as the muse situation, it's looking bleak. I settled on a few temporary ones. One I tired of pretty quickly. Another turned out to be a judgmental and narcissistic prick. A third was full of shit. I managed a story idea out of each, however, so they weren't complete busts. Hello, ladies? I am an equal opportunity employer. Do something crazy and tell me about it, and you might be the next star of "As Yet to be Determined Story by L."
Where's the fucking love?
-L
Hello to everyone out there in Blogland, and welcome this evening to another installment of...oh shut the fuck up. It's a Saturday night and I'm hard at work closing the upcoming issue for our Monday deadline. Drafts, proofs, tearsheets, fact-checking, Chinese food, Starbucks and a bunch of tired writers/editors/publishers/designers is all we are offering on the menu this weekend. Unfortunately, none of these things come with a shot of Johnnie.
So where have I been? Around. It's kind of sad that in my extended absence, little has changed. My hair has grown a bit. My gym membership has been put to good use. I scored a freelancing gig with AMNY (check it out for any Asian-sounding names--might be me). I lost some friends, made some new ones and got way too drunk at Hi-Fi on the Lower East Side on too many occasions. And in case you haven't noticed, my "acid tongue" remains intact.
Don't take my lack of posting as an indication that my creativity has dried up. For some time, that was the case, but as of late, it's been very much the contrary. I've been hanging out with a lot of creative people lately, flipped though a lot of portfolios that made my jaw drop, and got into a lot of heated debates about Quentin Tarantino. I've invested in some roomier purses and made a notepad and pen a permanent fixture in my daily carry-on luggage (which is worth it just to see the alien characteristic my handwriting takes on when I've had nine beers). I bought an 80 gig iPod and promptly filled it to capacity with music (I anxiously await the release of the 200 gig model, Mr. Jobs), and the laptop I finally settled on has been click-clacking away into all manner of sleep deprivation. In other words, all I need is a $250 vintage band t-shirt from Andy's Cheepees and some stars tattooed on my forearms and I'll be a full-blown hipster.
As far as the muse situation, it's looking bleak. I settled on a few temporary ones. One I tired of pretty quickly. Another turned out to be a judgmental and narcissistic prick. A third was full of shit. I managed a story idea out of each, however, so they weren't complete busts. Hello, ladies? I am an equal opportunity employer. Do something crazy and tell me about it, and you might be the next star of "As Yet to be Determined Story by L."
Where's the fucking love?
-L
posted by CEO of the World at 9:26 PM
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