I Am The New Aphorism

I didn’t even want to do this.

I got guilted into this… guilted or threatened. I’m not sure. They seem so similar to me. Either way it worked: I’m writing. And that’s not a bad thing – I need all the practice I can get.

It’s hard. I’ve been trying to make myself write for a year now, and I’m not making the progress I’d like. For the record, I am defining “progress” to include “Having a job that pays real money – not that imaginary stuff. Not after that last time.” So I think Chrissy’s/Camuto’s idea is solid. Exciting even. Heck, even I’m pitching in (which may or may not be a good thing). But, no one can say that I didn’t help. OK, you could say that and you’d probably be right, but we’ll ignore that.

It’s funny: I didn’t want to a blog because I’m already writing one; I hate it. For the last three months, I’ve been up here in New York interning at a small publishing house trying to work my way into the publishing industry. But my tenure there is almost up, and soon I will have to worry about keeping that dream alive. But it seems that the publishing industry is just like submitting poetry or dating girls: you have to deal with a lot of rejection.

Gears = Changing:
I just realized some of you have no idea who I am. Well, tough. (I’m not good with introductions.)

My socks are full of holes and May in New York is quite unreasonable in this apartment. We have no heat.

With All Newest Sincerity,
Calvin ’09


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