I Quit... But Not Really
Threatening to stop doing a blog is a lot like threatening suicide. No one ever does it just to let you know, but only does it to see what kind of response it generates.
So let's just make one thing perfectly clear, I'm not threatening to stop blogging forever. My ego is far too large to permit me to give up the only chance outside of paying homeless guys to punch themselves in the face to have a platform for speaking to people I don't know.
But then again, I've always liked to pretend that I don't write anything for 'other people', only for myself. Like most pretentious shit-heads, I like to live under the ludicrous belief that I write everything for 'me' and that if anyone else reads it, so what. That kind of thinking, of course, is what gets you in trouble, especially if anyone actually reads the stank-ass bile that you wind up writing.
Such is the case with a Mr. Peter Coyote, husband of an unqualified, tactless, jealous skeeze (Good lord, I just don't know when to quit, do I?). Anyway, according to believable sources, Mr. Coyote is now on record saying he wants to kick my ass for what I wrote in this blog that, before it started making the rounds at the San Francisco Film Commission, was read by an average of 25 people per day.
Great, so for the mouth-watering reward of being heard by as many people a day as your average Modesto homeless person, I've now got a 'mortal enemy', just dying to accidentally run into me at party so he can sucker-punch me in the face (I'm sure this will only enrage Mr. Coyote further as he probably thinks he's famous, but honestly I've blocked most of Bitter Moon out of my memory).
So, rest assured, if you run into me and I've claimed to have 'given up blogging', it's just a bluff. I just want you to offer me bribes and shit to keep writing.
Here's hoping I get a car out of it.