technology | TBN 8-16-21

Bookmaking log: finalized 213 pages of OtR, 181 remaining | TBN +2,751 words

• • •

yeah this shit’s comin’ out this week lmao, the process is fast

bookmaker bryngin’ the fall of the se7en earth’S, yee bastards

there has been a discvoery

though

at The Hillside Commons

a new weapon of mass destruction, a tool of mass slaughter has been added to the arsenal, has been dropped haphazardly into the rusty old toolbox in the garage within the garage. i’ve discovered a new late-stage editing technology, noted reader, and it is goddamn effective. let me take you back

so in the beginning, when I was still legiterally crazy, I had a very hard time editing my books. I would go through it and not take my time because I knew for a fact that as soon as I published it, millions of readers would buy it, I knew it would blew up overnight, The 2020 Event |The Main Event| is the greatest novel ever written, it’s about aliens that do psychedelic drugs, for crying out loud, it’s an instant best seller! I don’t even have to edit it!

See, that’s where it started. but then i wound up editing it because i wanted to read it over and over. at first. i enjoyed it at first, and i enjoy it now too. listen, if you’re a writer and you legitimately have trouble refining your own work and making sure that your words say what you mean them to say, you’re not a writer. you don’t even want to be a writer. you’re a child, spiritually speaking, who doesn’t understand the universe any better than I do, granted, but you’re sitting there going over your manuscript a trillion times trying to make it perfect, you’re spending thousands of dollars on editors and cover designs… i digress’d. the point is that you are behaving with your manuscript like i behaved with mine when i was batshit insane to the point that suicide was literally my plan B

my plan B is to complete plan A now, so we’re all fucking clear on it, and that’s word to Royce da 5’9″. plan A is The Hillside Commons, and the fact that my viewership counter tells me that one human being sat on my website and read literally 40 of my blog posts over the course of about 3 hours this morning tells me that my plan A is going to play out absolutely goddamn fine for me

you wanna read a story? this is a 100% true story, I shit you not even a little tiny bit

I used to give copies of my books to the mailman. yeah, man, thanks for delivering the mail! oh yeah, you better fucking believe I was that guy. I’m no longer that guy, mostly because I’m financially tatter’d at the moment, but I used to be that guy, and one time I gave an early copy of my novella Roadtrip: The ¡Gramango! Edition to one of my mailmen. He was an older guy, but not the half-dead kind of old, the ‘man was chipper and he carried an air of self-respect that I genuinely do not encounter often in other human beings. so anyhow, I give him the book and signed it for him and he looks at it – I signed it with his name, as I always do, that way they can’t sell it for a goddamn penny, take that you miserly fucks, real human connection and interaction, oh yeah, how the fuck does that taste?

he loved it, btw, said he hopes i get famous. me too, chipper old mailman. me too. hope all’s well

so a week goes by. he delivers the mail again. I’m waiting for another batch of books – these copies of A Lyme-Brained Rhyme Game, the closest thing to a literal manifesto I’ve ever written, it literally ends with the main character “a crazed writer named Hunter Owens Wallace” (hilariously close to my name, and me, when I was crazy, haha, haha, oh god he thought it was an autobiography) having a talk with the voice in his head and being told to shut the fuck up and get to work. but uh. yeah, I gave him a copy of that too and I never saw him again, but before I gave him a copy of literally my first attempt at a poetry anthology, and before I even heard of Charles Bukowski, hah! assholes

before I gave him the copy of Lyme-Brained, what sparked me giving him the copy of Lyme-Brained, was him telling me how he sat down to read a couple pages of Roadtrip, y’know, just check it out, he said he would check it out and so he was going to check it out, and he literally read half of the entire goddamn book in one sitting. Like… literally! He said something like that had never happened to him before, that he really enjoyed the shit out of reading it. That revision of that book was about 140 pages long; that man sat and read 70ish pages worth of my writing and it impacted him to the point that he remembered a week later and he told me about it and he shook my fucking hand for it, and what did I reward him with? a copy of my literary & poetic psychotic breakdown lmfaooooo perhaps not my best move. should have walked away with the W instead of doubling down and fucking myself. oh well. guess me and my good intentions and love that I’m only trying to share with the world can so fuck ourselves, huh? guess I’m the fucking bad guy these days, what with my immense bibliography of work and the fact that i give it all out for free and the fact that when I rant like a madman I do it artistically, aka in blog posts tagged as fiction that get my website mad views instead of on a public forum like all you plucky fucking graduate students in Yale and Harvard ranting about the fucking Coronavirus like that rant is actually going to fucking do something positive for the world. Hot damn, I’m just the worst human being ever. I should just go shoot myself in the head with my crossbow instead of writing the greatest books to ever be written, huh? because I sure do give a weeks-old petrified piece of donkey shit about what the liquid-brained fools who call themselves people think about me

so anyway, back when I first started bookmaking I had trouble with editing. I would get to the end and immediately plummet into a pit of doubt, especially after the third draft

what if i missed shit

what if I have brain damage

what if i am actually not alive and this is all just a coma dream and when the book is done im gonna wake up in the hospital and have to write it all again and this is my punishment for taking the acid, that’s why God made me hit my head and let me live with the headaches and the pain and the isolation and nobody believing me and I’m so alone and oh hot damn, it’s 1:23 pm!! this must be a sign from God!!1! I’m on the path of redemption, I’m on the right path! I had to be punished in order to be rewarded, things can’t get better unless they get horribly disfigured first, and The 2020 Event is my redemption arc! I was a complete waste of life, but I hit my head so hard i knocked some sense into me and now I’m writing! Now I’m contributing to society in a way that only I can and I’m loving it! I’m loving it so much, in fact, that I bet I won’t even have to promote it! I love the project so much and therefore God will love it so much when it’s done that He’ll will the attention of the world to it, they’ll come like flies to shit, I’ll be a millionaire overnight!

yes, all of that, most definitely all of that. but first, I need to finish The 2020 Event, and for all I know, I missed a single spelling mistake. The book is The Great Human Novel, fuck america, long live the Human Race, lowercase t, don’t you fucking misspell it or I will fucking cut you, and it needs to be perfect. I can’t be sure that I didn’t hit everything I needed to hit for this book to change my life, so I need to go back and finish it. for real this time.

yeah. for real this time. my hairy fucking asshole

but now I have found a way to make sure I see every word, to make sure I don’t miss a single goddamn mistake. I used to read the book literally 20 times. I probably went through The 2020 Event 20 times – the novel, not the short story anthology – and for what? for Existence’ to get reset into The Garden, literally the greatest creative property ever fucking created and if you disagree you are wrong because i would be dead without it and it’s the bee’s knees you sloopy illiterate fuckkkkk do you know how to read?!?!!?!?!?

The Bookmaker’s Note is the greatest shit on the internet, yes or yes?

Yes, I think.

I took the yes or yes thing from Tim Dillon, who took it from someone else, who took it from someone else. but one thing still stands

Tim Dillon is more interesting than you

and I am more interesting than Tim Dillon (where the fuck are all your novels, big schiz’? oh wait, you’re too busy doing ad reads for your phenomenal podcast, you sloppy lucrative fuck)

and by far

by FAR

my books are more interesting than me

like

I am literal human feces compared to my books

like

there is beast of the wilderness shit, okay, that’s one thing, like, where else are they gonna shit?

then there is guardian of the household/familiar of the bookmaker shit that you step on outside, and that’s like, all right.. like, you could have cleaned it up.. this is a public road, you disgusting fucking shrew, and your dog shits rotten pudding and it hardens overnight and stays there for fucking weeks, have some fucking dignity and clean up your dog’s fucking shit, I had my cat buried faster than you can clean up a pile of shit you subhuman fucking joke, you fucking buffoon

and then there is guardian of the household/familiar of the bookmaker shit that you step on inside, and that you can’t even blame on someone else, like, you can, you can totally take all of your rage and frustrations and shortcomings out on someone in your family, maybe even one specific member of your family, for literally their entire life, see how that turns out for everybody involved, or maybe all the members of your family, or maybe everyone thinks you’re such a shitty human being because your head is shoved so far up your ass you’ve created a strange effect that somehow includes an inverted möbius strip, Robert Downey Junior was talking really fast when he was explaining it all at around quarter after 3 this morning, I let him smoke some of this Tropicana Cookies flower I got and it affected him the same way it affects me

he go

like, look at this blog post. i planned for this to be less than 100 words. aren’t you a lucky child of Earth?

so below allll of that is human shit. human shit… unless you’re a mom or you’re at home admiring your own work, there’s no reason you should ever see human shit. ever. not on the street, not in the forest, not in a toilet, hey, how about grow the fuck up and flush the public toilet you ideal target for a fucking mass shooting, I mean sweet Christ, you fucking degenerate, you can’t smell your shit because you’ve gone noseblind to it getting high off it all the time like me and my fucking marijuana, but uhhhhh EVERYBODY ELSE FUCKING CAN so how about we use our basic motor functions like human beings with functional brains over the age of TWO and flush the goddamn public toilet for the next human being who shares in your misfortune of having to use it in the first place, okay? it’s not hard. it’s really, really not hard. Look, I’ve written over 1,000,000 words of fiction. That wasn’t necessarily hard. Every other aspect of my life was hard during the writing of that, but the writing itself is not hard. Life isn’t too hard anymore, either. I’m just impoverished. Is what it is. Folks are going to find this work eventually, hence the couple examples at the top of this almost daily exposition of power I put on for the general public

like

I’ve been thinking about this

the shit I say in this blog series?

I’m a goddamn Astral God in this piece, a true to life The Bookmaker

literally

it’s Me

I’m still here

always have been

sometimes I pretend not to

like all the times I incarnated as all of you

ah-hem

but this time

for Hunter A Wallace

see

I like him

he has… well, his hair used to look better than it does now, but his hair is dope

so I let him be aware

but when I was all you

nah

so if this wasn’t abundantly clear what with this abundance of keyboardical tapping I’ve prepared for you, Over the River: The Emancipation of Jonathan Knox will most likely release this week. I had a powwow with a conspirator for a future project this weekend and he brought the thunder, sonny boy, he brought he Black Diamond, and bookmaker loves Black Diamond. Cleared the entire flash fiction anthology for publishing in 6 hours. Sat and fucking did it, banged that motherfucker out like a blade fresh from the forge, you fucking milkdrinkers. Then yesterday I spend most of the morning put ALL of the text into the The Fall of the Seven Earths manuscript, aside from OtR’s, ofc, because it’s not all done yet, but yeah, that’s all ready. There’s also not a secret third thing and I’m not going to announce/release it alongside those two. Aboslutely not. I’m not even being cryptic, you’re actually a fucking idiot if you think I’m hinting at something. Nothing more is coming. It’s Over the River and The Fall of the Seven Earths, do you have any fucking idea how much work I’ve done over the past few months? Over the past several years, but over the past few months specifically? Like, a lot. There’s going to be 2 books announced, one novel with a flash fiction anthology in the back, 100,000 words, and one Reality book, which is 3 novels and a flash fiction anthology in one, all the The Fall of the Saven Earths books all in one, with size 9 font, arranged in the correct canonical order because there are 2 ways to read this latest spiral I’ve created for the human race and they’re both coming out at the same time and that is enough for you, that should be enough for you, I’ve not made more that $420 total over the 4 years I’ve been doing this and I’m releasing 2 books in one day, both over 100,000 words long, one over 200,000 words long, and that is enough, that is all I am giving you, for the love of fucking Christ do you see how hard I am trying here?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

see, that, compared to my books, is me

compared to my books

I’m really a normal guy

I get up in the morning, smoke my weed while you drink your coffee, work all day like you do

the only difference is that I actually enjoy what I’m doing

and I’m not even getting paid

and you know what?

I don’t expect to anytime soon

I don’t expect to sell a single copy of Over the River

I’m doing this because there’s nothing else, and I do it fucking grand

and as far as you should be concerned, I’m doing it all for YOU

hah, look at you. you don’t know what the fuck to thynk

Since you’re there, noted reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s