Manifesto

I'm a person adverse to social interactions, that is not to say I'm antisocial, let alone a "shut in", no I simply find that niceties, and protocols stagger your momentum, and ultimately, in your search for companionship, you find yourself more alone; even in a room full of "friends".

With that little self axiom of mine in place, you can imagine that the idea of a "Blog", for nothing more than a "Blog's" sake, is a rather excruciating exercise of masochism on my part. But like they constantly say; "No man is an island onto himself", and it would seem the natives have found me.

I recently got off the phone with my publisher, who knows a great deal more, than "little old me", on how to sell a book. It would seem that the idea of the cypher or man of mystery, that writers are so fond of projecting, is but a dying afterthought in this technological hurly burly world of ours. Once you are out there, you become intrinsically united with your book, sort of like an added bonus or french benefit, your identity becomes nothing more than a new product; one that most be cultivated and made agreeable to the masses.

As such, in the last few months, I have taken a crash course on proper Tweet etiquette, going so far as to incorporate new "slangs" in my vernacular (tuit, tweet, twitter, hash tag and the like); been sucked up, digested and finally excreted, and reborn into Facebook; and now it would seem, I am even asked to forward an RSS FEED on my current blog... first of all, what on God's green Earth is an RSS? and secondly, and perhaps more importantly, "current blog?"

As a writer, or at least someone who fancies himself as one ( a man can only dream), I have brought shame to my profession, or so my publisher has told me, by not having a blog.

I truly believed that writers were suppose to write, they woke up, got a cup of coffee and wrote... a novel in the best of circumstance. Now I find myself experimenting with haiku's for a blue little bird and trying not to wring the neck of all those that critique 140 character failures; trying, in earnest, to post something worthwhile on THE social network and lastly, thanks to my damnable publisher, racking my brain on the real purpose of a blog... as I said: I am not a gregarious and convivial creature.

Fostering a new book is hard work; It takes a certain kind of madness, and sadistic comfort, in taking pleasure in the birthing one of those little bastards out. You constantly poke, beat, probe, kick, and, largely, torture your imagination in order to fill a page up with meaningful syntax; as you can imagine, by the end of any story, that part of your mind, the one so apt to be your pilot in all "flights of fancy", is nothing more than a stressed out captain living on steam and whiskey; waiting for any excuse to just let go and nosedive into oblivion. Hence everything else, that further force his patience and compounds weight on his already beat shoulders, is simply abhorrent behavior; water-boarding an already waxing and annihilated prisoner.

As such, it might not be polite, but I will use this space for two reasons.

1.  A man's got to eat; expect some product placement (my books) and a few puff pieces; aside from food a man has to stroke his own ego.

2. This, In a way, will be my notepad. On these pages I will jot down ideas, archive memoirs, and, above all, will collect interesting tidbits. My books are ripe with data I have collected throughout my years; facts, details, "inside dope", stories and scoops on the bizarre.

This blog, will be nothing short of my reliquary of the strange... my grotesque, odd, horrifying, insane, and unbelievable CABINET OF CURIOSITIES.

For although I am not a social beast; I'm a collector of monster, they truly are the most interesting of companions.