Thanks, everybody, for the recent comments.
The hilarious thing to me is how unplanned all this was. If you'd asked me five weeks ago to write a book about my experience in the field of music journalism, first I would've helped you up off the floor and passed you a handkerchief for the bloody nose I just gave you, and then I'd explain to you that no publisher in this dimension would want it.
By the way, just to fill you in, I finally sent a message to my bass idol, asking him if he would care to appear in the book. I explained the project and how I would use him as an example of how to deal with setbacks gracefully and with dignity.
His gatekeeper initially refused to forward the message, asking me if I might want to rephrase the letter, because I used the word "rage" twice, and my description of "my obsessive pursuit of Scott Thunes" made me seem like a psycho stalker. He said the message was too intense to send to someone I barely knew.
After much thought, I asked the person to forward the message as is, because I did feel such rage that it blew up my immune system, and I did "pursue" Scott Thunes, though not in a physical sense. I wasn't following him around in my car; I periodically asked him to let me help him write his memoirs, and I brooded about him.
Eventually the gatekeeper forwarded the message. We'll see what happens. I don't think I was coming across as insane, but crazy people generally don't know they're crazy.
Maybe I've been raving away like a lunatic for over a month now, and none of you have had the heart to tell me.
That's okay. I'm still having fun, crazy or not.
The hilarious thing to me is how unplanned all this was. If you'd asked me five weeks ago to write a book about my experience in the field of music journalism, first I would've helped you up off the floor and passed you a handkerchief for the bloody nose I just gave you, and then I'd explain to you that no publisher in this dimension would want it.
By the way, just to fill you in, I finally sent a message to my bass idol, asking him if he would care to appear in the book. I explained the project and how I would use him as an example of how to deal with setbacks gracefully and with dignity.
His gatekeeper initially refused to forward the message, asking me if I might want to rephrase the letter, because I used the word "rage" twice, and my description of "my obsessive pursuit of Scott Thunes" made me seem like a psycho stalker. He said the message was too intense to send to someone I barely knew.
After much thought, I asked the person to forward the message as is, because I did feel such rage that it blew up my immune system, and I did "pursue" Scott Thunes, though not in a physical sense. I wasn't following him around in my car; I periodically asked him to let me help him write his memoirs, and I brooded about him.
Eventually the gatekeeper forwarded the message. We'll see what happens. I don't think I was coming across as insane, but crazy people generally don't know they're crazy.
Maybe I've been raving away like a lunatic for over a month now, and none of you have had the heart to tell me.
That's okay. I'm still having fun, crazy or not.
.
