THE CULT OF THE AMATEUR

This is me trying to be somebody and go somewhere, figuratively speaking. Maybe it's all the Sex and the City reruns and Fetish Feature research for my Writing for the Internet class, but I have become increasingly obsessed with power and making money with my writing. Yeah, I think I want money now, thanks. I guess it's taken me this week of voluntary lockdown to realise what it takes to be a successful writer. And I guess it's the ever looming graduation date. Anyways, it's there, like the carrot in front of the donkey. And now I have some interesting writing plans/projects lined up to appease it. Does anyone else think 2009 is gonna be your year? I'm pretty stoked. A lot of non-Obama related changes are gonna go down. I'm planning to move to the states, finish a novel, write some more shorts, work for a magazine, and I have my own personal project I wanna try out as well and I already have my first subject in mind. I hate being so vague with you, but really and truly, all this post is is a stream of consciousness, so it's pretty much gonna comprise of shit. What's also troubling me is that when I went to piss just now I found myself dreaming of Mexico again. I had originally wanted to move to Mexico for 6 months immediately out of graduation and see what kind of writing that would spawn, but this was back when I thought Panda and I were bringing our best friendship/awkward love trysts to a close. But it seems we're still okay. He came here, he took these pictures, he gave me a good laugh and it seems setting up shop with him in L.A. just might really be materializing. And I am going home this christmas to discuss just that with the parental unit. This is going to be one of those unforgettable holidays. I can smell it. And you know what else I can smell? Perfectly toasted slices of bread. My new thing has become butter on toast, being served it for breakfast at an amazing friend's house a while ago after a wild hangover from the night before. Butter on toast definitely sets you straight, better than any W. Burroughs heroine shots ever could. Forgive me, I've been reading 'Junky' just before bed every night to wind down from a day reading and quoting a vicarious stack of essentially dull required reading like 'BECOMING A WRITER' BY DOROTHEA BRANDE!!! OH MY GOD, WOMAN. DIED MUCH? TRY IT! DIE! YOU GAVE ME NOT ONE USEFUL QUOTE FOR MY ESSAYS THROUGHOUT YOUR 175 PAGES! Now, as you can tell, that shit really gets to me. But fuck it. I was watching an episode of SATC after every chapter. It wasn't all a dull afternoon. I pretty much fucking love Sundays. It's the epitome of ME. Do you have a favourite day? I had a really good conversation with my mother this weekend. I miss her a lot and I'm glad I quit my bar job because that means I can go home for christmas and squeeze the good shit out of her..and then tell her I won't be coming home anymore as of next year..*meff*. And I can get presents this year, which I missed out on a couple times. AAANNNDDD My birthday is in January just before we're meant to head back. This will be the first time I can celebrate it with my fam since I started studying in London, and so the first time I'll get proper gifts. I spent it with Panda last year and that was really awesome though, even though I cried my eyes out because I thought 19 was morbidly old. Well guess what, I'm not afraid of 20. 20 can bring it. 20 can suck Ben Stiller's Unit. I'm pretty excited. Because 2009 is going to be killer, for lack of a MUCH BETTER word. I am going to love 2009, and I will ALWAYS hate that book by Dorothea Brande. Always.