Bookmaking log: revised 19 pages of OTR, 383 remaining of step 2 | TBN +1,508 words
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Yep, 19 pages. Bolster’d the fuck out of my numbers for today, hell yeah. That’s the front matter and the prologue, 19 pages on the dot. If you know you know, ‘man. If you know then you definitely fucking know.
So in the last The Note – I posted it literally a few hours ago – I mentioned something about Moon Waltz. I have been listening to Moon Waltz on repeat – technically on shuffle, there are 2 versions, one with guitars and one on piano, they’re both fucking glorious and I even gave the piano version a 5-star review on Amazon – since before I made that first post and it’s still going. Incredible fuckin’ music, ‘man. Christ. Cojum fucking Dip.
So I’m putting this up now for more than one reason. The first is that I’m expecting Flowers to be cleared by Amazon by later in the day, therefore I’ll put up the behind the scenes post today, therefore it’s the perfect time to do an insomnia post. No, a moon waltz post! That’s perfect! Because the moon is out, and my fingies are waltzin’ ‘cross the keyboard! You bitch, you fucking bitch!
I finished reading Bukowski’s Pulp for the second time today. Pulp was Hank’s first book I read, then I read his other 5 novels in order, then I read Pulp again. So basically, I experienced Charles Bukowski’s life flashing before his eyes when he died. Except, y’know, in book form. The only way the bookmaker knows how to experience anything, you sloppy illiterate fucks. I have a couple short story books of his and one poetry book – Last Night of Earth – and I dig the living fuck out of the poetry. The short stories aren’t bad, I didn’t get too into them because when I first cracked the first book I was actively reading his other novels, but I’m looking forward to getting back to them. Eventually. I have a lot of books to read, tbh. I’m glad I got all of Bukowski’s novels under my belt at this specific time in my life, though. Dude was a damn good writer. And a perfect example of why more folks need to write. Had he not written he would have just been another nameless drunk, but he did write, and he’s considered one of the best by none other than the bookmaker. Is there any higher honor? Not in the bookmaker’s eyes, tell you that much right now.
It feels good to be done with Flowers. It feels amazing to be getting current with my work. I have so much stuff planned, folks. Imma be slingin’ pages ’til the day I drop, swear to fucking god. I’m so fucking serious, ‘man, I’m just, I’m so sincere!!!! The books are everything! EVERYTHING!!! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ! !1 !
sO 2:30 AM. Pretty caps, gang. Pretty caps. Allow me to hit you with some magic now, blin:
a wise woman said I’m alive | nobody’s ever told her she’s wrong
a paella of space-talkin’ jive | I’m as alive as her beard is long
Those four lines, sweet Christ. They do not get old. 15 seconds of Bora is not enough, it was never enough, good god the world needs The Dip!!!! Dude I really need to get my creative’s guild poppin’ so I can get as many of the Tally Hall folks as possible together in one room so they can design The Hillside Commons a recording studio so they have a place to make music unhindered. This is the goal, noted reader. I need more reality distortion music and nobody else makes it like my boys. I didn’t even hear about them through TikTok, I’ve never used it once, I was introduced to Dream Sweet in Sea Major like 4 years ago and… sweet Christ, well isn’t that wonky. Joe Hawley’s work found me right when I started getting real about The Hillside Commons. I’m just realizing that right now, as I didn’t know who was behind Hawaii Part II until later, shit. That’s wild. But yeah, Dream Sweet found me and I immediately bought Hawaii Part II and listened to it on and off for a while, and then a couple months ago I was listening to Variations on a Cloud and that lead me to Ruler of Everything and now here I am with every single Tally Hall etc album and demo album and the entire fuckin Unreleased Rarities fan compilation thing, I’m fucking hooked, ‘man, I am obsessed with the music these boys make. This shit was made for me, okay?! Joe Hawley was one of my more recent past lives, I fucking promise you that. The way The Mind Electric hits me, ‘man… fuckin’… no bullshit, the first time I listened to Dream Sweet in Sea Major I got emotional. I remember tears spilling over my eyelids. THAT HAS NEVER HAPPENED WITH OTHER MUSIC BEFORE AND IT’S NEVER HAPPENED SINCE, OKAAAAAAAY???? It was like I remembered it from a past iteration of the universe, a very distant iteration, one which vibrates at a level I haven’t been able to achieve for a long many lifetimes. But the music found me again. The music came back. JOE HAWLEY SPIRALED THROUGH nonEXISTENCE IN SEARCH OF ME JUST LIKE CHUCK LEARY DID, DO YOU SEE WHAT THIS MEANS?!!?
It means this has been an entertaining rant. I’m not real, I’m a character that only appears in these blog posts, which will eventually be compiled together and sold as a book.
In other words, the bookmaker is a character from one of the bookmaker’s books.
The piano version of Moon Waltz just started. Have a lovely present moment(:
Oh, and the second reason I’m putting this up now is so my OTR numbers for Monday are bolster’d^2. Because I know you think I forgot, because you’re a sloppy illiterate fuck and, were you me and you somehow made it to 2:50 am on July 24th, 2021 without killing yourself yet, you would have forgotten. Hell, you probably would have done what I originally planned on doing, that is, not working on OTR and making the entirety of the last rendition of The Note a lie. Oh yeah, I almost lied to you, noted reader. But I didn’t. I was never really going to lie, it just seems like it looking back and pretending I’m not me. Lol. Imagine being the incarnation of Hunter A. Wallace that lies about working on his books, Jesus fucking Christ. Because that iteration exists, y’know. There’s a version of the universe where this website is the same as it is now, with The Note and all the pages set up for all the books, except there are no real books. All the text on the pages of my website set up to display my books for free? There’s not real text there. My copies of my books sitting on my bookshelf? Cardboard cutouts. There is an iteration of this universe where I do this blog series, where I say the exact same things I say in this iteration, except there are no books to back it up. Except I made up all the books. Except I made up the 12 books and over 1,000,000 words I’ve written and self-published over the past few years of my life. None of it’s real, this is my confession, I can’t take it anymore, I’m going nowhere in life and I’m pretending to write all these books but I’m not writing them, there are no books, I just sit in front of my computer and masturbate with the same single piece of looseleaf paper I tore out of my binder and crumpled up and used as a masturbation aid all those years ago when I first discovered my unnatural attraction to and obsession with masturbating with looseleaf paper! The books are just an excuse for Mother to purchase me more looseleaf paper, if I ever need it , which I won’t! BEcausEI’ms till using the first page! I’m still finalizing the running book, ladies’n’germs! I never learned how to torture myself and enjoy, I just shot myself in the head with a crossbow bolt and then woke up with the shit sticking out of both sides of my head so I reloaded up and shot another one and hit the fuckin’ Robin Hood shot and what the fuck do you know, now there’s a fucking normal-sized arrow sticking out of my head, I can’t leave my room, the fucking conjoined bolts sticking out of either side of my head are too long to fit through the door oh and also the bolts pierced my fucking brain so I can’t really walk too good, I cannst rreaally ttrtywuiope e2 wfgood eeiiehthter af.basb nm,vkECJGyv UKTCfc R4L;ER'[
Since you’re there, noted reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~