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6:53 p.m. - 2010-07-31
snippet from friend's blog, a friend dear and closer than I realize, I think
Working title for my novel that isnít actually a novel and never will be:

The Electromagnetic Paper Machine (not to be confused with the title of a real novel by Ken Kesey, who also wrote about a mental hospital)

Chiefest of my motives in this endeavor: publicly telling off that corporation, coming clean about mistakes of my early adulthood, and honoring people that deserve it. But I canít write fiction. I canít hide in the ambiguity of creative truth. I canít immortalize my friends into epic characters (I do see you all as epic, by the way). As if that werenít enough of a kick in the nuts, I canít tell closely-guarded secrets and then act like I made them up. Iíll just have to find a therapist or a girlfriend who speaks either English or Spanish or both. Sucks for yíall because there were some steamy scenes in there.


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