Myspace ghosts - Still Manifesting

How did I find your myspace, and why the eff am I reading your flippin' blog?

Backstory: We went to undergrad together, had a morning Jazz radio show together, didn't get along worth a bucket of warm pooh, and now you got me reading your blog into the wee hours. You know how late it is? It's -- AMC channel went from B/W to color to B/W to color again -- late. It's -- somebody just got up to go to work -- late.

First thing's first. I didn't hate you in college. You were a little... nervous? I was effed up too. (you know what, let's just skip all that) As for your blog: have I ever seen this many words? To say you are prolific is not enough. I see portions of chapters, memior. But criminy, it's like Les Misarables (in length, not content). Is that why I'm a guy? I don't say everything I think? And, speaking of, your blog is revealing. As is mine, I'm sure, and spookily so, in that I reveal things subtly. Oh, there's nothing wrong with journaling as part of worship - see, King David.

So. Long, revealing, and what was the other? Oh. Good, actually. At times I was taken in, when you were writing honest, hard-pressed thought. (Here's where she throws something.) Fine, was the thing on Joan Rivers hard-pressed thought? (Throws something else, yells. I answer.) No, I'm not a big published writer, but I worked as a story developer for a year in Hollywood, and I know from bad writing. I've never seen your fiction, but from parts of your blog, I see a new face coming to your genre -- maybe YOU as a peripheral, but then vital, entity to a crime scene. And the "guy" you "get" is the ally, but then he turns out to be bad, oh well, can't win 'em all? Okay, I'm bad at genre fiction.

Here's where I say holla back, girl. If there's anything you can say that's not written on your blog, please do. There's a bonus, something that happened at KCOZ I never told a soul about, and you know you want to hear it. It'll be entrez nous...