Wow, here I am with another of my timely, dependable journal entries. First of all, big thanks to the countless thousands that have flocked to the website! I’ve had the site memory expanded and the RAMstat re-digitator has been refined to handle the constant traffic, so to those of you who view this site as some sort of digital serotonin, I promise, NO MORE COLLAPSING, NO MORE WAITING, JUST PURE, WRITHING, UN-ADULTERATED LITERARY FUNIFICATION!!!
(And to MSexxxktty420 from Akron, Yes, I did get your e-mail, and yes, they are my “real” elbows in all of the photos. I’ve actually considered having them reduced, because women seem to pay more attention to my elbows than they do to me, and that can cause a hurting, inside, where the heart is.)
Where have I been during the long months between journal entries? So nice of me to ask.
On the writing front, I’ve been working diligently on Siren Promised, my first full size book due out in January of 2004. Progress is steady and with each completed chapter the book gets longer. I’ve been writing it in English, so I think those that speak the language will have an even greater appreciation for the material. That’s about all the details I can give you right now. I’d post a sample chapter, but those bootleggers, man, they can’t wait to get their no-intellectual-property-respectin’ mitts on it to make a dollar and a cent. Goin’ out like suckers
My last collaboration with Alan M. Clark, Pain and Other Petty Plots to Keep You In Stitches has now hit the market, and you can get it at Alan’s site or via Amazon. Check out this site’s Currently Available section for links. So far the critical response has been overwhelmingly positive, and I hope you dig it, too (if you’re really buzzed off the goods, spread a little of that joy around the Amazon reader reviews).
On the stranger side of things, my twisted tale of acid overdose, Catholic ravers, and obsessive compulsive disorder a.k.a. "A Number of Things Come to Mind" did not win the 2002 Pushcart Prize for which it was nominated. However, others who didn’t make the cut this year include two of my personal heroes, David Foster Wallace and Rick Moody (who seems to win every year), so I’m among a fine pantheon of losers. I’m also consoled, in the weirdest way, by the fact that Susan Lucci was nominated 9 times before she won a Daytime Emmy.
Jeremy Robert Johnson, The Pushcart Susan Lucci.
As far as the short story market goes, look for new fiction from me in the near future (which, in publishing schedule time, is actually pretty far away). Things are going well and I’ll post news about a couple of big sales soon!
Did I celebrate St. Patrick’s Day? Well, I’m not Irish, and I think it’s a little weird to just co-opt some culture’s holiday and slap binge drinking onto it (not that the Irish don’t engage in their fair share of drinking, but you get my point). But, yeah, I did celebrate and it was a Lucky Charmsian good time.
Still, you can’t just add beer bongs to Kwanzaa, can you?
(If you can, the idea is hereby copywritten in digital print. Hallmark, give me a call.)
On a final note, on the eve of war, I also have this to say:
Down with the imperialist monarchy.
I’m not an erudite political writer, but I do know that I didn’t vote for Bush, nor did the majority of this country. He’s like one of those bad kings you see in the movies, where you know he has neither the right, nor the mind for true leadership, and yet somehow he is the king. The people go unheard, strife increases. The king’s mindless ambition, driven by greed and the thirst for power, forces the country into war. To turn our mind away from the king’s ineptitude, the volume is turned way up on any available distractions.
Now, like in the movies, we’re waiting for a real king to step up.
And we’re still waiting, while we coat our babies with duct tape and mainline potassium iodide.
Special times.
Thanks, as always, for reading.
Love, Jeremy.
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