February 25, 2011: It's late February, and the time has again come to ask yourself, "What have I done for Jarret lately?"
No, it's not my birthday, nor do I presume to pay some kind of weird homage to Finnish actor Leo Golowin, who as you know was born on this day in 1903. Instead, I merely think that, owing to the uncanny wealth of wonderfully engaging words with which I selflessly provide you on an ongoing basis through this Blah-ugh! (and for free, mind you), it just seems (if you have any heart, or at least a modicum of shame) you might feel a festering motivation to help further the questionable cause of my sordid career by consciously spreading the word about ... well, me!
As you know, I'm still on the lookout for the right agent (meaning any agent) to represent my first novel, which currently waits in the vaults unfondled, and leaves the world without that opportunity to see just what sort of meandering madness I can squeeze out of my brain, given the space (and a clean spot to stand). Beyond that -- meaning beyond your forcefully pursuing any avenue available to you to get me in touch with some fool willing to champion my book -- I'd hope that (like E.J. and Shannon ... and possibly Matt, though I'm beginning to have my doubts about him) you're making some effort to spread the word about this wonderful (and free, mind you) Blah-ugh! you find populating your happier moments (and, let's be honest, where you find yourself identifying with many of mankind's grungiest thoughts and basest feelings as only I can recount them).
Please understand, I don't want you to feel that you're not doing enough for me simply by being a loyal reader, but I'd hope you would exhibit just a little guilt -- not a lot, but a little -- enough to motivate you to move this thing along toward its ultimate conclusion.
Well, I've said my piece. I can't promise not to talk about myself next time, but I'll certainly talk far less about you.
But once again, my darlings, thank you for lurking here ...
Showing posts with label literary agent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label literary agent. Show all posts
Friday, February 25, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Another Negative Critique
February 4, 2011: Now that my readership is increasing exponentially -- and I don't say that to brag; in fact, I'm more embarrassed about it than anyone -- my duty to produce (Did I say "produce," when I meant "grind out?") ongoing installments in this intellectual and moral morass I call my Blah-ugh! increases exponentially as well. (I know you people don't mean to pressure me, but clearly you do, and for that, I simultaneously love and despise you {which is not to say I wouldn't help you change a tire if it came down to that}.)
Anyway, I'm reminded how much easier it is to write about things that are bothering me, versus things I'm happy about. I may have once, perhaps a year ago, done an installment on the things I was grateful for, but I don't think it got me any new readers, nor a literary agent, nor any dates ... (In fact, the more I think of it, it might be prudent to go back and delete that entry and steer my full attention toward this bilious course that combines churlish criticisms and petty hostility; it seems to be what the public wants -- (at least my public -- this gaggle of jellybeans which seems to grow like a festering goiter).
But here, look at all these tangents I'm creating (as evidenced by my almost foolhardy use of excessive parentheses). I'd hoped to keep my point focused, like a dart, or an Englishman's nose, and instead I'm dissipating without even the tawdry pleasure of consuming alcohol.
What I wanted to discuss was how much easier -- more pleasurable and bountiful -- it is to write negatively. And don't we experience that in all aspects of our daily lives -- the joy of waxing negative? How often do we wander across an acquaintance at work, and before long there seems nothing else to talk about but something negative; if it's not criticizing an incompetent coworker or bemoaning our squalid working conditions, we bash the weather for all the wrongs its doing to us. We roil and rejoice in our roiling, like so many sick salamanders, or a Christian missionary.
But it seems to keep working, so I won't be the one to start criticizing it. Hell, I'm just happy to see my numbers increase. Maybe one day all this silly complaining will result in meaning (for me, I mean).
At the end of the day -- and please take this in the fond communal spirit in which it's intended -- it's really just all about me!
Anyway, I'm reminded how much easier it is to write about things that are bothering me, versus things I'm happy about. I may have once, perhaps a year ago, done an installment on the things I was grateful for, but I don't think it got me any new readers, nor a literary agent, nor any dates ... (In fact, the more I think of it, it might be prudent to go back and delete that entry and steer my full attention toward this bilious course that combines churlish criticisms and petty hostility; it seems to be what the public wants -- (at least my public -- this gaggle of jellybeans which seems to grow like a festering goiter).
But here, look at all these tangents I'm creating (as evidenced by my almost foolhardy use of excessive parentheses). I'd hoped to keep my point focused, like a dart, or an Englishman's nose, and instead I'm dissipating without even the tawdry pleasure of consuming alcohol.
What I wanted to discuss was how much easier -- more pleasurable and bountiful -- it is to write negatively. And don't we experience that in all aspects of our daily lives -- the joy of waxing negative? How often do we wander across an acquaintance at work, and before long there seems nothing else to talk about but something negative; if it's not criticizing an incompetent coworker or bemoaning our squalid working conditions, we bash the weather for all the wrongs its doing to us. We roil and rejoice in our roiling, like so many sick salamanders, or a Christian missionary.
But it seems to keep working, so I won't be the one to start criticizing it. Hell, I'm just happy to see my numbers increase. Maybe one day all this silly complaining will result in meaning (for me, I mean).
At the end of the day -- and please take this in the fond communal spirit in which it's intended -- it's really just all about me!
Monday, January 4, 2010
The Mannequin Candidates
January 4, 2010: Many things are maneuvering for my attention as the new year (2010) gets underway -- financial insecurities, Nazis, my ongoing search for a good literary agent -- but for my first entry of this decade, I'd like to focus my attention on something much more important to me, and much more pressing -- the new and exciting selection of sexy store mannequins.
I've had a hard time trying to decide which store has the sexiest mannequins. Much to my pleasant surprise -- and bothered attention -- several local places met this holiday season by introducing some of the most fetching female dummies I've yet had the pleasure of ogling.
While some stores are still offering the standard attractive, old-style dolls -- Ann Taylor's, for instance, features the classic headless stand-bys, dressed for elegance and artfully crafted to last a lifetime -- others have introduced new, sometimes-provocative, sometimes-alluring, and sometimes-just-plain-dirty dressing dolls on display for public amusement and, sometimes, utter bemusement.
Chico's has started displaying an amazingly sexy torso -- I mean, I couldn't take my eyes off it. While it lacks some of my favorite parts in a lower half, the top is just so spectacular I could understand dating a headless torso with just that certain something.
Gap has gone one better, with a vivid collection of armless naked white bodies that's not to be equalled. (They're just standing there, like you could go right up to them and start small talk!) Just seeing those dandy displays decorating a wide-open window right on Westport, Connecticut's Main Street, made me simultaneously blush and wonder why I traded it all away by marrying a woman with a head.
If this scintillating selection of hand-crafted beauties is any indication, 2010 promises to be a magnificent, hopeful and breathtakingly tawdry year!
I've had a hard time trying to decide which store has the sexiest mannequins. Much to my pleasant surprise -- and bothered attention -- several local places met this holiday season by introducing some of the most fetching female dummies I've yet had the pleasure of ogling.
While some stores are still offering the standard attractive, old-style dolls -- Ann Taylor's, for instance, features the classic headless stand-bys, dressed for elegance and artfully crafted to last a lifetime -- others have introduced new, sometimes-provocative, sometimes-alluring, and sometimes-just-plain-dirty dressing dolls on display for public amusement and, sometimes, utter bemusement.
Chico's has started displaying an amazingly sexy torso -- I mean, I couldn't take my eyes off it. While it lacks some of my favorite parts in a lower half, the top is just so spectacular I could understand dating a headless torso with just that certain something.
Gap has gone one better, with a vivid collection of armless naked white bodies that's not to be equalled. (They're just standing there, like you could go right up to them and start small talk!) Just seeing those dandy displays decorating a wide-open window right on Westport, Connecticut's Main Street, made me simultaneously blush and wonder why I traded it all away by marrying a woman with a head.
If this scintillating selection of hand-crafted beauties is any indication, 2010 promises to be a magnificent, hopeful and breathtakingly tawdry year!
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