“Just write that”
I’ve been using it for 30 minutes, but that fucking battery only dies on me now. No iPhone apps, no games. I need a back-up plan. And I need it fast. And it’s there waiting for me: on the top shelf. The latest issue of Rolling Stone (I am sorry, but who knew that buying a Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt and saying “yes” like an idiot to that wonderful chick at the cashier, meant signing up for a year subscription to Rolling Stone?!?):
“Everything fucked up and nobody went to jail,” he said. “That’s your whole story right there. Hell, you don’t even have to write the rest of it. Just write that.” I put down my notebook, “Just that?” “That’s right”
I am sitting on the toilet and I have no idea how to start my first article. “That’s my whole story, right there. Hell, I don’t even have to write the rest of it”. I put down the latest issue of Rolling Stone. I don’t even need to go searching for an idea. “Just that?” “Yes, that’s right, that you were sitting on the toilet with no ideas. And now get out of here and write your goddamn piece.” Another situation solved at the last minute with quiet dignity and grace (and with an awful immoral – and probably illegal – ploy). And here they go. Good bye, chances to get back my reputation.
“Are you sure that you want to publish this shit?” “HELL YEAH!!!”
– Simone La Cuercha