I wasn't going to do this, the, in Open Salon parlance, "flounce." I don't flounce. People who wear tutus flounce, and generally only before the age of five. I stride purposefully toward the nearest exit, stopping only occasionally to brain with a handy beer bottle a random idiot or two standing in my path, my steely gaze fixed firmly on my goal. (Or, you know, the stripper's tatas.) It was my intention to just stop posting. However, neilpaul's eminently classy farewell last week convinced me that I can't simply abandon my blog; I must do so in a way that is classier than that motherfucker ever dreamed of. (Also, if I can piss a few people off on the way out, awesome.) Hence this post, which I feel achieves a degree of class that requires that that word be reconfigured to start with a "k:" this post is all about leaving with "klass."
All of which is to say that this will be my last post on OS. Despite my torrid three-way affair with Kerry Lauerman and Joan Walsh, a relationship that ended in despair, madness and Kerry's abdication as OS editor, the reasons aren't personal but professional. In the seven or so months that I've been posting on OS, I've done exactly no real work, written no fiction nor anything other than blog posts, nor felt a need to. I have not submitted my novel anywhere, nor felt a need to. I've done nothing to further my writing career, nor felt a need to. I've had fun writing these essays, but they're not professional writing; nobody's going to pay me for this stuff. Probably nobody's going to pay me for my novel or the short stories I have in mind or the second novel I'm about to start on, but there's a better chance of that than of anything coming of my work here, which also takes a great deal of time and energy, since I, OCDed as I am, never let anything go out without three or four or, you know, 20 readthroughs. That is time and energy I could be applying to my real work. (Or to drinking and masturbating; either way, it's a win.) I am not a blogger, and I don't want to be; I am a fiction writer. Or, at any rate, I have been, and I will be again.
So, I'd like to thank the wonderful writers and readers of OS (the rest of you can of course and as usual kiss my whole entire ass) for your support and encouragement. If in the course of my writing here, I have caused but one person to strike a loved one in anger, it will all have been worth the while. I will be leaving my posts up for awhile; I don't really see the point of taking them down, and it's a shitload of work to copy each one, so they may stay here forever. (Laziness, not love, conquers all.) Oh, and also, someone might want to read them--right, yeah, that too.
In the immortal words of Edward R. Murrow, I'm just a guy that makes shit up. Oh, wait, no, that was me who said that. Murrow said, "Good night, and good luck." So, that too. To all of you.
Well, most of you.
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Christine McKellar
knightwriter
Chicago Guy
denverdarling
Amanda Gulledge
Sparking
Salon.com
Comments
This said it all. God I agree with you so much on so many levels and that scares me and you are right about pasting the posts down to a word doc. It's a nightmare.
Please stay if for no other reason than to continue to piss people off.
Hmmmmm. I am beginning to get an urge here. A goal of pissing people off.
rated
COME ON!
Seriously, though, it's been fun, Floyd. Sorry to see you go.
What the Fuck?
Fuck it.
((((((((()))))))))
I was so looking forward to you hooking me up with your sister, but that came to a rather depressing end. After the inevitable breakup with Mr. Right.
And then the New World Order.
Oh well.
Have a (fucking) good life.
I don't miss anyone because I'm always drunk here so I forget. So I'll miss you until you come back. Cheers! :hiccup:
BTW, say hello to Boyd and Lloyd in London. R
Oh, Floyd, I'm really going to miss you. This is the worst news I've had all week. Take care, man. Please let us know when your novel is published and when you complete the second one. You have no idea how much I've enjoyed your essays. You raised the bar beyond reach. Please stay in touch. My email is bleudog13@yahoo.com.
Shit.
I always, always, always looked forward to your posts. This has me fucking bummed out.
Did I say fuck?
Fuck.
No, no, I'm really not, but many thanks to those of you who've read my work for awhile as well as those who've come to it more recently. (And sorry, Trudge for the misdirection, but I think on average about 1/3 of my posts have the word "fuck" in the title. This is the only one with "OS" in the title, though.) I probably won't be around either to post or to comment; commenting, as some here have found, can be an almost all-consuming avocation, and would probably get me even farther from finishing the work I really need to do. But again, thanks to all you guys. (Well, most of you.)
And just to clear up the confusion: yeah, Lloyd and I will be clearing out together, as a body so to speak, but Boyd is not actually me, though I appreciated his contribution to the general lunacy. (I do know who his alter-ego is, since he asked me for permission, but it'd be up to him to say.) I have no idea if he'll be around any longer.
Amanda, the drinking and masturbating are going great. Oh, you mean return later. Sure, I can do that, but I can't see how they'd go bad.
scanner, as my last girlfriend's real name was Terri (I called her HGG in my posts), I wondered when I first read your comment why you were knocking around my ex.
For those of you interested in seeing the novel, I promise to return if and when it gets published (by which time none of you will even remember my name) and give details. Likewise should any of the short stories or the new novel find a home. And yeah, all the fiction is humorous; I do literary humor. It's a sure way to make a trillion dollars; ask John Blumenthal.
I'll pop back once or twice in the next few days. Be excellent to one another. Wyld Stallyns Rule!
OS is the biggest waste of time, and yet it is not. Not at all.
So when you start marketing that masterpiece- don't be suprised
if the first thing your agent suggests is a self-promoting website
and a steady blog sparking interest in your work.
Shit. I am not even going to say goodbye. If you are going to leave, then just go already then. (Sigh.)
Your ability with words is evident. I have no doubt that it translates into fiction with equal charm. You *should* be more widely exposed. Go to it, Floyd, and keep your fans/friends informed. We're on board. Don't forget to write.
Where will I go for extreme use of the word "fuck" now? That's my question. I have needs, Floyd. Needs!
Sigh. Okay.
Thoughtful, rational, clarity flavored with some fucking funny lines will do that.
The terrific crowd of writers, the warm support of other writers, the immense learning from people who have been writing all their lives are wonderful, seductive and addictive.
But if I'm gonna be rejected every day by ANYBODY, it should probably be by someone who could pay me. And if they can't pay me; to at least TALK to me. Maybe even PRETEND to like me!
I have also yet to find an addiction where the addict sets the rules and tells the dealer what to do. So not a lot of hope there.
Still, "My name is Roger and I'm.. . ." But you know the rest of the story.
So go get um Floyd. I look forward to buying your book!
Maybe you'll change your mind (writing novels is fun; waiting for agents and publishers to read them takes forever and leaves you with nothing to do.) I hope you do. But if not, farewell and good luck!
You make me laugh. I like laughing. Please do not abandon me.
(did I happen to say, fuck you?)
cartouche, I'll miss you too, dear. After all, I'd never have had a sister without you. Or anywhere near as much fun here.
Boyd, goddamn it, I'd've thought burying you in that mine cave-in would've gotten rid of you.
John, you're who I plan to be in 10 years, the verray parfit humor writer. Right down to the dancing for nickels thrown by tourists on the Santa Monica pier. (Only in my case it'll be Navy Pier, because of how I hate the heat.) Leave me your email address in PM and I'll let you know what I thought of Millard Fillmore Mon Amour. And as for the long empty time between rejections, I know about that. This time I'll be filling it with writing the second novel and with other writing.
Frank: that's my name, don't wear it out. And don't stop writing what you do, because of how it's fucking brilliant.
Chicago Guy and Gwendolyn, I'll see you both the next time Gwen gives a reading.
tai and Noirville, I'll miss you too.
Hmmm, time for last words. How about: Whenever there's a cop beating a guy, I'll be running the fuck away, because of how he might start in on me next. Whenever there's a fight so hungry people can eat, I'll be crawling around on the ground, picking up whatever money falls out of their pockets. And when the people are eatin' the stuff they raise and livin' in the houses they build, I'll be figuring out some way to scam them out of everything they own. Because I? Am just a guy who makes shit up.
Thanks again, to everyone.
"Now we dolly back...now we fade to black..."
Floyd, you're a great writer! Best of luck. RF
Your light here is the brightest, the funniest, the most delightful one that we have. PLEASE check in, even if you don't post.......
(and did I mention, fuck-the-fuck outta you?)
Stick around for our amusement!
(rating withheld due to acute aesthetic boredom)
My Favorite Murrow Quote:
I have always been on the side of the heretics against those who burned
them because the heretics so often turned out to be right. . Dead, but right.
Never take them down, buddyroo. We need them like grass needs clipped, like stink needs waft, like dull needs shine.