cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Book is Better than I Thought I've been working today on my book. Executing edits that I made on the most recent printing of it. I am about half way through that process. The delightful surprise is that it is actually very readable and a good book on its own terms even in this state. I have so much shit that I need to add to the first three decades of the history of the H0bok3n Turt1e Club. I know that I need to add the part about Cl@rkson Cr0lius, and all of the shit about Al3xander Stagg, and all of these early officers of the Club. But I have to remember that the reader doesn't know about all the stuff that I left on the cutting room floor. This is a really fucking good book just as it stands. This is an effective sequel to H3rbert Asbury's "The G@ngs of New York." It has a lot of the same characters and settings, and the sourced heft to show that Asbury wrote a work of fiction. This is the book that anyone should read after they read that book. I think that I can set this up for sale and injection into the American zeitgeist with my new, tenuous relationship with Th1s Am3rican Life. I have a video meeting with the producer, Lilly Su11ivan, next week. She is watching my film, "Our Str33ts," about the events of August 12th, 2017 here in Ch@rlottesville in advance of our meeting. She wants to put together an episode about realizing that reality has entirely changed in a moment. And she wants to link me being bitten by a bl@ck widow to people suddenly understanding that there is a neo-fascist movement in the US which is perilously close to taking power. I don't really want to dwell anymore on that year of my life and on everything that happened after (a year of having my pictures photoshopped into posters falsely claiming that I was wanted for drugging and kidnapping women). But if that is what I have to do, then ok. Look, this book is actually really fucking good. I think. But I don't have anyone else to actually read it and say anything about it to me. I don't know anyone anymore. I knew hundreds of people from around the world, and now being off of social media I don't know anyone. It is really hard to adjust to, even now that I've been off that shit for about two years. I had fans and followers and now I just exist. I don't miss the adjulation, but I do miss having people to talk to and hear from. I miss being connected to other people. Most of the time I feel completely alone. Big surprise, Alex almost certainly did not read it in spite of having a printed draft in her hands for months. She's had not a word to say about it amidst being allegedly head over heels in love with me. I would bitch about her being self-absorbed, but aren't we all? We're all the protagonists of our own stories. I have this shitty diary that I update only when I'm drunk, late at night. I'm only different from the guy who takes my order at Taco Bell in that I bother to write things down very occasionally and have books and articles to my credit. My personal experience of living isn't necessarily any more valuable than his. Alex is wrapped up with the fact that her kids have chosen (?) to live with their father, and she is a slave to her horrible ex-girlfriend in order to pay the mortgage, and she feels like a failed mother and failed human being who can't direct her own life. An entire best-selling novel could be written about her situation and her falling in love with me, and she could write it, if she were not so consumed with dealing with the actual situation. But I think that the book is already better than I thought. It might be closer to being something that I should sell and publish than I had thought it was. 2:19 a.m. - 2022-10-14 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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