...of something I could tell all y'all that wasn't the usual run of complaints, whines and flat-out jive I've been posting recently.
Every time I venture outside my own tiny box -- a William Steig world where I sit, thinking "people are no damn good" -- I hear or see things that upset me in the outside world.
And I don't need further upset.
I have already decided that I am a charlatan, a kind of idiot-savant who can entertain, yet derive no real knowledge or satisfaction from doing so.
Let it be said I'm not so awful, really. Despite the horde of women who have kicked me to the curb, publishers who have cheated me and various others who have broken promises as if they were saltine crackers, there's still something to be said for me.
Aside from my being a chump, that is.
No, really. I'm a good guy. When I'm on your side, baby, I'm there 'til the Big Dirt Nap. You might not care about -- or, in a few cases, have long since rejected -- that dog-like loyalty, but when the nasty stuff hits the fan, you still have someone who cares.
That would be me.
Yes, I'm full of self-pity again. It's difficult not to feel that way when everything you do comes up a day late and a dollar short. When you can't take what little praise you earn to the bank, or use it to stave off the wolves who are howling for your blood.
Just remember, my loves: when the day comes that you, too, are beset by demons, you could have had me at your side. Probably still could, if you chose to ask.
But the demons are here, and you don't give a rat's posterior about that.
I think it's time for me to go to bed. This day was bad, and tomorrow will be worse. I'd better rest up for it.
15 hours ago