Saturday, March 21, 2009

Writing for a hobby is not like writing for a living

I've written 3 posts in the last 2 days on my Bulgarian blog. Guess I got my writing mojo back after a long winter of struggling to yank something out of my brain. I never believed in writing something for the sake of writing something. If that made sense at all. I know that if I force it out people can tell and will hate me for it. Or at least disrespect me for it.

I finished reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas a few days ago. I got this beautiful hardcover copy from the Borders at Logan International, as I was about to board the big steel bird on my way home. Hunter kept me smiling through the ride although I was not in the greatest of moods that day. Anyway. This copy of the book contains other goodies like his article about how the book was written and also the Ruben Salazar article he was working on at the time. He says that Fear and Loathing was something he wrote down to load off the pressure from the other type of writing - the one he perceived as a burden; the writing he needed to do for a living. There's one funny quote of his, where he explains why writing is rarely fun for him:

"I suspect it's a bit like fucking, which is only fun for amateurs. Old whores don't do much giggling."

He is most famous for something that he wrote on the side, as a hobby, something he even saw as 'manic gibberish'. He had fun with it; he played with the peculiarities of both journalism and fiction to create a mixer of craziness, and wisdom, and trips spiked with drugs, some of which I hadn't even heard about.

So have fun writing. Even when you do it to pay the bills. Don't let it get too boring or burdensome, because it will show. Me, I don't really strive to become a real writer. But I do enjoy it, and it helps me in many ways. And it still means a lot when someone decides to read what I have to say. So - thanks.

Friday, March 13, 2009


26

Twenty six.

More than 25 but less than 27.

What does that even mean?

2 + 6 = 8. I was born on the 8th.

Does it mean I've grown wiser? Doubt it. More experienced? Maybe. Truth is I still don't know what to do with my life. Or where I want to live. I do things one at a time, I check them off one by one. I try not to think about the big picture as all it gives me is a headache. I need a bigger head for that.

Do I feel different from a week ago when I was 25? That would be just stupid. But there's one really good thing about my birthday, besides the usual three-day partying. Shortly after it always comes spring. And everything looks so much better.
 
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