All Fucked Up
Beat Week L.A.
I'm bored, but not yet as bored to throw in the towel and
call it a day. I don't have much to say at this time,
although I really do, but...aww, who gives a fuck?
Yay...today is Beat Week in L.A., in dedication to Jack
Kerouac and the other members of the Beat Generation. On
top of that, this weekend is also the biggest literary
event in the United States: The Los Angeles Times Festival
of Books, hosted by U.C.L.A. Go Bruins!! lol...not...well,
the least I could say for those guys is that their film
department kicks serious ass....
If I don't attend this event, I'll die of malnutrition by
starving myself of Ovaltine, which is all I survive by.
Ovaltine, hands down, is the fuckin' best. Only reason why
I really HAVE TO attend this is because I want to see a
particular writer who I will not mention here, being that
he's not to be sold out by fuckin' teeny bopper would-be's,
wanna-be's, whatevers. On top of that, I myself am a
writer..."a force to be reckoned w/", they say...lol, and
because I also want to bump into Oliver Stone down there,
whom my respect valve has an relentless appetite for...
There are suppose to be about four hundred or more authors
there, myself included. I shall be having my own book
signing booth set up right in front of Royce Hall...lmfao.
Don't count on it. But...I couldn't think of anything
better in life than to have someone approach you w/a book
in hand, donning your very name and asking if they may have
your autograph, telling you about how your book has changed
their lives....as On The Road has done for me. Awww, Jack,
where are you, my white negro?