2005-12-15 - 7:29 a.m.
I’M a writer.
I AM a writer.
I am a WRITER.
I am A writer.
No matter how I say it, I still don’t believe it.
It doesn’t matter though, because I’m going to keep on trying. I’m going to keep throwing this stuff up to see where it lands (on your eyes, sadly. Sorry ‘bout that.). A while back one of my favorite blogsters, Mr. Eieio, said he though I should write something akin to my memoirs. Thanks for the vote of confidence Mr. E.
I thought memoirs were only for famous people – too much coffee from the Sheets station I guess.
So, I sat down with my mom last night and asked her if she would be willing to relive some of the gory details of my childhood over a note pad and a tape recorder (a bottle of vodka might help, but she’s a recovered alchy, so…). She agreed and even said she thought it was a good idea and would probably make a good book. Well, all right then.
So here I go. I’m going to give this a shot – it could get ugly. I’ll probably write a lot of it here, just to get my ideas down quickly, so you’ll be my first critic(s). “Remember – be honest. This is for posterities sake.”
I’m just rambling now.
