All Apologies

“I wish I was like you,  easily  amused. Find my nest of salt,  everything is my fault.” – Kurt Cobain

I’m sorry for what you’re about to read. This isn’t funny or even terribly interesting. But, it is honest. So, if you don’t like it, at least I didn’t lie.

I apologize a lot. That is to say, people who know and tolerate me think I apologize too much. I call it self-awareness and kindness and being well-mannered.

In separate incidents, I recently discovered that there’s a negative opinion of what I do online; blogging, social media, writing a book. It’s easy to say “screw them and keep doing what you do”, but I know that even among fellow writers, bloggers, twitter followers, and the Facebook friends, the fourth wall known as “real life versus online life” makes criticism from “real life” sting. While I’m internally proud to fly my freak flag on My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog, the more I put my byline out there, especially through Sprocket Ink and guest blogging for more popular authors, I’m feeling external pressure. A woman approached me at my gym, said she knew a friend of mine, and began conversing about the Taste Like Bigotry column I wrote for Sprocket that got a thousands of views and almost 50 comments. She disagreed, but was very nice and quite civil. Her biceps were bigger and better than mine so I wished her a good day and started killing myself on the bench press. It was the first time I was “recognized” away from the computer.

Not being obsessed with fame or money through my writing has allowed me a great deal of freedom. When my novel is printed, I don’t even have a goal for copies read or sold. But I feel the need to apologize because I don’t view this blog or my twitter and Facebook as ways to “brand” myself. The phrase “hell, everyone’s writing a book” doesn’t feel like it belongs on me. I’m writing for myself. In fact, I’m sick of editing. I think I should stop taking advice and critiques and just get it out there. Don’t freak out Marian, Cameron, or of course, my wife, The Bobina, Deana. I’ll do it the right way.

What I’m really afraid of is having to promote myself and anything I do. A few tweets and the Facebook posts are enough for me. So, I’m apologizing for not being ambitious with this blog or anything I write away from this place. Hits are down because I’ve been concentrating on the book and real life stuff like being a husband and father. Plus, these four women have been busy this summer and relatively boring because they’ve been too good.

The top search term for My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog is “Kurt Cobain sycophant”. I’m considering having that put on my headstone. It’s taken me twenty years to figure out why I relate to and understand so much as to who Kurt was and went through. He didn’t feel normal. He didn’t like whatever everyone else enjoyed. He didn’t think artists were greater than average people. He hated fame. I feel the same. I don’t know if he would have liked my writing, but I love his music.

August will be about finishing The Ballad of Helene Troy for publication in September, hopefully early in the month. Millicent the serial killer will get a lot more exposure. Leeroy will continue to rock 100 word song, please tell a friend or 50. And we’ll visit Jake and Violet until they’re finished. The kids are headed back to school and two of my three daughters have birthdays in the next six weeks. I’ll try to fit it all into blog fodder.

But, I’m sorry. I do wish I was like you, easily amused. My nest of salt is writing this blog, and reading your hits and comments. Oh, and Kurt was right…..everyone is gay.

Karma Police

To whom it may concern,

The smell of coconut suntan lotion turns my stomach. Nobody will look me in the eye. I’m tired of crying every day. Since you all don’t have the courage, I’ll apologize to myself.

Sincerely,

me

****blogger’s note***

This is my letter of apology, as dictated by this weekend’s Trifextra- http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/ For this week’s challenge, you have to write a letter of apology in exactly 33 words. Addresses, salutations, closings, etc. (should you wish to include them) do not count in the 33 words. You can call this a a vague entry. But it means the world to me. No, I won’t elaborate.

Today’s song is perfect, in so many ways. If Radiohead were in charge of my funeral, this is what they’d open with. I hope the right people are reading and listening. Karma’s a real thing. And it’s a major bitch.