BNG is not a music factory

So publishing/agenting folks - I'm gonna make it easier for you to sign me up; on this blog, I'm going to serialize my second novel, This is my sell-out novel. You'll be able to see all my talent and facility with language and my extreme willingness to do whatever to get published. I will even watch over your babies and only think once of cantaloupes and fontanels... I'm thinking ahead too, just like business folks like; but you're not all business folks, so I hope I haven't offended those folks who have no networking abilities/business ties. I have no networking abilities myself; I just piss people off.

My sequel to Sell-out will be Poseur, a memoir wherein I convince a dirty punk ex-lover to become my lover again and I'll drop out of academia or whatever "safe" job I have and we'll hop trains and become gutter punks all so I can write about it as a memoir, but I won't let ex-lover or gutter punks know my ulterior motives. I'll hide a laptop in the dirt encrusted on my thighs; they'll just think I have chiggers or a nervous twitch as I type and type and type...

This is my sell-out novel begins with Chapter 1: "Vampire lesbian teenagers glitter in the shower then show off their bumps on the red carpet." But, first I have to shout out that

SAM MOTHERFLIPPING PINK SD HE'D WRITE THE INTRO/POEM THINGY FOR MY CHAPBOOK!!

YES!

I HOPE SAM PINK IS NOT FUCKING WITH ME.

(THIS IS AN OCCASION FOR ALL CAPS, IF THERE WERE EVER ONE. IT COULD BE THE CHEAP CHARDONNAY, THOUGH. OR THE EAGLE ON MY HEAD THAT KEEPS SQUEEZING ITS TALONS INTO MY FRONTAL CORTEX. HEY EAGLE, I'M NOT QUITE READY FOR A LOBOTOMY, YET. I'VE WEIGHED THE PROS & CONS, ACTUALLY. I WROTE OUT A LIST: PROS: CHILLAXING FOREVER; CONS: NO DREAMS, PROS: NO ANGER; CONS: NO HATE SEX, PROS: COOL SCAR, CONS: R.P. MCMURPHY & A PILLOW... I WILL GET YOU MICE OR WHATEVER EAGLES EAT, THOUGH, IF YOU'RE HUNGRY, THANKS.)

MAYBE SAM PINK SAW THAT I WOULD BE HIS GIRLFRIEND. MAYBE HE'LL DRIVE ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE MASON DIXON LINE & DOWN INTO THE ALABAMAS WITH HIS POEMY/INTRO & A ROSE & A PICKLE JAR OF URINE. MAYBE HE'S ALREADY IN MY CLOSET. MAYBE HE'S SMELLING MY WINTER COAT THAT HASN'T BEEN DRYCLEANED IN YEARS. MAYBE HE'S SMELLING THE INSIDES OF MY BOOTS, & THE SHRUNKEN HEADS I KEEP THERE JUST COS...MAYBE HE THINKS THAT'S WHAT I SMELL LIKE.

MAYBE HE'S ALREADY DUMPED ME IN HIS HEAD.

I HOPE HE'LL GIVE ME ONE MORE CHANCE, REGARDLESS OF THE EAGLE, THE TAN WANNABE CAMEL COAT, THE HEADS I STOLE FROM SOME DRUNKEN FX GUY I ROLLED...

& Agenty/publisherers: Next time, I'll publish Chapter One, I promise. I'll leave you with this, just cos my genuflection towards side pony tails should convince you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kfX2LwlQr2M

Your cliffhanger,
Ry