So, it’s been a little while since I last spoke with all of you. Consider this the quarterly presentation to the board.
I’m dating now, with mixed success. Which is more success than the previous, uh, decade of my life. A couple of dates under my belt, set up through literary speed dating and OK Cupid. Nothing particularly lasting yet, but early days still, and it’s not as big a deal as I thought. You go on dates, some are fun, some aren’t, no one holds it against you. And it’s fodder for writing. Which I haven’t been doing enough of. (Let’s come back to that.)
Related to the dating: why did no one point out to me that I have been wearing clothes that straight-up did not fit me? I mean, christ, I’m just swimming in some of the shirts in my closet, and it’s not like I’ve changed size since my freshman year of college. Why did people let me dress like someone who’d just lost half their body mass in a freak liposuction accident? Combine this with the weird effect that moving to New York has had no me actually sort of discovering what’s fashionable through osmotic processes (or that insane Buzz Bissinger essay) and I end up with an excuse to both buy some new shirts with actual colors and donate the rest to Housing Works.
That discovery — that I actually had no idea how to dress myself in the morning — might be tried to the overall campaign of self-esteem building I’ve been undertaking. That sounds a lot more New-Age-bullshitty than it is. It’s not any mantra or The Secret or anything like that — just a conscious decision to remember that everyone isn’t annoyed by my presence, that I’m good at what I do, and that people enjoy having me as a friend.
That I have plentiful amounts of evidence of these assertions around me is certainly helping in that regard.
Writing is where I’m letting myself down. I promised Nick a thing for his website and let that moment pass without taking advantage of it; I’ve been talking big talk about being a writer without putting in the effort needed to actually, you know, write.
It was easier with the artificiality of school to impose topics, deadlines, a sense of structure and reason to the process. Without that, I’m somewhat lost without an audience or built-in feedback mechanisms. Tied in with that is the drop-off in my already fitful reading habits because I don’t work at a bookstore anymore and I’m feeling my least literary in years.
(I’m not alazyreader on twitter for nothing.)
So, in order to try and force myself to actually write more, I’m launching a fiction email newsletter through TinyLetter. Really simple: you sign up, and I mail you something I wrote on the first of every month.
It’s called A Lazy Writer.
I would appreciate it if you signed up for it and told your friends about it. First issue goes out Wednesday.