So. Another month of pay after just two weeks. And I’m still alive.
Here’s the scoop. Book sales have stalled out. At six. That’s cool, I didn’t do it to get rich, well, not in money–knowledge rich. And to prove it to you, I’m going to give it to you. I really am proud of the book/blog and want it to be read. So if money is the barrier between the paperback version of this blog and your hands, I’m removing that barrier. Just email me at email@example.com. Tell me where to send it. I’ll send it. And then you’ll have it. Want a couple? Order away. This is a popularity contest after all people. Read it and tell others!
On a wholly different note, I have written a post that contains the most vulgar language I have ever heard spoken whether in person or film or books or whatever. It is still written by me (though not invented by me) and in the end has my voice/style, but seriously it is trash. No one should read it. By no one, I mean Grandma and Grandpa. Mom. Kate. Dad. Well, all family members. (Scratch that. Sam, you’ll likely chuckle in disbelief.) Friends, please consider proceeding carefully. I am going to password protect the post. But the password will be available on a page at the top of the blog called “password”.
Why did I write it? Because Tolstoy came close. He came really close to sharing locker room talk. But he never did. Maybe other fellas have, I can’t say I’ve ever searched for it. But I am frequently confronted by a feeling of shock when I listen to other people’s conversations, and the conversation that this post records takes the cake. I’m ashamed of it. I’m nervous about being associated with it. I’m embarrassed to have been in the group that witnessed it. But I loved writing it. Just don’t read it. And if you do, remember you’re the one who typed in the password.