A Little Help from My Friends

My dear, loyal readers. I don't often ask for help, but I need yours.

My book proposal is currently being rejected, yet I am getting constant "you are inspiring" feedback, so I want to increase my blog readership as a means to an end. The end being publishing my memoirs of course. Not for fame, not for money. But for entertainment and enlightenment. If I can inspire and make even one of you take action, then surely I can do that for many others.

So, my request to you all is that you forward the link to my blog to as many of your friends, coworkers and family as you can, and in turn ask them to do the same. A chain mail without all that superstitious BS. Emailing the link to people in the media would be helpful naturally, but I'm just as happy with friends-of-friends and the like.

Feel free to send whichever you link you like--a post you love, a post you hate, a post that made you laugh--but please type away. I'd be grateful forever.

I'm lying in my bed on dad's laptop, with Wally at my feet, my alien drain pinned to my nightgown and my pink rubber BCA bracelet on my wrist. And I'm crying; remembering how 15 years ago, lying in this same spot, things were not that much different.

I was in high school, staring up at the skylight bawling, acknowledging the fact that I was doomed to be alone, never to marry and to die young. And here I am, half my life later, the prophecy self-fulfilled. I'm alone, romantically, I very well may die young and marriage certainly isn't in my future. Self-fulfilling prophecies do exist.

I know I'm stuck in that Buddhist cycle of reincarnating until I get it right. I know I've sat in beds over centuries bemoaning the same shit. I told myself a few weeks ago that this was my last life; that this time I was going to get it right. The book is the most important part of that. I believe writing a book like this is the very reason I was put on this fucked-up earth. And I don't want to have to live another 100 lives to get a damn publishing deal. Seriously.

And God damn am I bored here. Thank God I have fun friends--tomorrow we're going to lunch then coming home and making a big batch of pot brownies for me to take back to MIA. Hey, I know I shouldn't smoke, but a girl's gotta eat. Which I have been doing a lot of BTW. Cancer is a good excuse to get fat.

I need a damn psychic. My shrinks are great, but I think it's time I delved into my past lives. I've already overanalyzed this one to death.