But Will They Buy It?

Two people are coming to look at my condo tomorrow. That's great! Maybe one of them will buy it and I can go back to being a hobo-editor/writer. For those of you who just cruised in via The Beat (thank you, Heidi, u r swell), my condo is for sale because my Dik-Dik On A Stik franchise has swallowed up my savings.

Am I Rich Yet?

Another impoverished writer that I know—one who lives in Berlin and met me in Austin in 1985—sent me three numbers.

"Now send me three. You play Lotto in New York and I'll put the six numbers in here in Berlin."

"But, Herr Berliner," I said. "The odds of winning Lotto are worse than being struck by lightning."

"So how is that different than trying to succeed in the careers we've chosen?"

Fair enough. I read up on how to enter Lotto (I had no idea) and went and bought a ticket. We didn't win--surely this was some kind of cosmic error, a mistake in the luck of the draw.

I wonder if our careers will continue to be similarly random.

Image Worth Repeating

Wikipedia definition of dik-dik: Dik-diks, named for the sound they make when alarmed, are small antelopes of the Genus Madoqua that live in the bush of southern and eastern Africa. Dik-diks stand 30–40 cm at the shoulder and weigh 3–5 kg.

They are also good on a stick. Above "photo" created by The Bucce.

Sold Out

If you are in Garden City, NY, and planned on buying my book, Stalking the Wild Dik-Dik, at Barnes and Noble, guess what? It sold out! Of course, Barnes and Noble Garden City probably only had one or two copies to begin with, so this isn't as amazing as it seems. Still, it's cool. There were two copies at Union Square Barnes and Noble on Friday.

Update: This from the friend who told me that Garden City B & N had sold out:
"I have no idea how many copies B & N had, but I got the last copy, which they had to go into the back to get. I think the lady thought I was looking for some softcore porn novel when I asked about it. The look on her face was priceless."

Good Advice

On the topic of marriage, someone told me that the best advice he'd gotten was to take a prospective partner camping for two weeks. He didn't heed it, and he's still paying for it.

Just think, it you go camping together, you get to see the following.

-Can s/he tolerate inconvenience, or is s/he a pampered brat?
-Can you act as a team?
-Is s/he whiny and complaining?
-Can s/he improvise with few resources?
-Will s/he lose her temper when you spend too much time together?
-Can s/he rough it with a smile?
-Will s/he blame the nearest person (you) when things go wrong?
-Can you still stand each other at the end of the two weeks?

This method doesn't necessarily work in reverse. I've had great camping experiences with two different men. My reaction to the tent collapsing during a huge storm was to laugh and enjoy it. But no one dragged me to the altar. This is not so bad, because I'm not big on marriage and tradition, but I do feel a little cheated that all good camping ever brought me was two trips to the altar... as Best Man.

Toast in Pajamas

I swiped a few jpegs of me toasting Yancey and his bride off of some personal websites. I looked like an idiot, especially next to the bride in her classy bride-outfit. You should see the ones I didn't post! In one, I had a scrunched-up face so I must have been talking about the time Yancey-vomit was washing over me during a scuba incident off San Diego.

Here is the start of the speech that I made. I didn't finish writing it, so it ends abruptly. I winged it during the actual speech, suddenly coming to the end of my notes and blathering something about a toast and many long years together. I'm not going to post the whole thing here on the main page, so click on "Comments" if you want to read the rest.

I didn't wear the bathrobe during the actual ceremony, so don't worry, Mom.

I called up Yancey the other day in a panic.

"Yancey, Me being in this wedding is a disaster. The shoes don't fit, I'm the Best Man and still not male, and the dress is messed up. It was too big, so the tailor took it in. Then it was too small. So he fixed it, but then he ironed it. And he used steam, and now there's red blotches all over the seams.

"Can I get out of showing up? What if I pretend I broke my leg?"

"Scott already tried that one. It didn't work for him either," he said. "And anyway, it doesn't matter what you wear, as long as you show up. You can wear your pajamas for all I care."

Wrong End of this Business

On July 9th, there was a New York Times article about the perils of choosing "travel guidebook writer" as a vocation. I know where the writers are coming from. They spent a lot of time talking about how much effort goes into researching and writing their guidebooks.

Here's an excerpt:

It's difficult to generalize about the pay scale for guide writing because it varies so widely, though most guide writers seem to agree that the wages are not enough. A writer working from scratch on a comprehensive guide to a country may get an advance of $100,000, from which a year or more of travel expenses must be deducted.

Wha--? $100k?? Who gets $100k? I am so totally in the wrong end of this business. We're talking more like thirteen cents an hour here.

Souvenir Hunting in Catalonia

In 2004, I was living in Barcelona. My friend Jeff from Austin sent me an e-mail.

"If you see a George W. Bush caganer, can you pick one up for me?"

I did not then know what a caganer was, but in short order learned that caganers are ceramic figures that sit on the edge of Christmas nativity scenes. The caganer, for whatever reason, is mischievously taking a poo while baby Jesus sleeps in the manger under the watchful eye of Mary and Joseph.

The original caganer was a peasant sheperd, but caganers now include sumo wrestlers, Santa Claus, Dali, Satan, and Fidel Castro.

Right on Target, Kid

I was hanging out with some kids in Manhattan last night.

"Can we go to the Statue of Delivery tomorrow?"

This amusing interpretation of the term "Statue of Liberty" seemed fitting for the mascot of the City that Doesn't Cook at Home.

The Book Is Out!!

Aunt Peggy just said that she got a box from amazon this morning and in it was...

Stalking the Wild Dik-Dik.

It's a little early but that's all right.

She liked it a lot, but then she is my aunt. I bet my mom digs it too. I hope lots of other people also like it. I'm scared. More scared than if a dik-dik were chasing me in Kenya. No, not that scared.

You can go get one yourself. Better hurry, I'm sure it will sell out as soon as the Warren Ellis Literary Army moves in.