Oh Jesus, I thought when I woke up this morning, not again. Not another hangover. Please not another hangover. How many has it been this year: 60? 70?100? Some people don’t manage 100 hangovers in a lifetime. I asked my Nan recently how many hangovers she’d had in her life and she said one. Wish I’d only had one. Wish I was my Nan.
None of that’s true. Well, some of that’s true: I do want to be my Nan and I probably have had somewhere in the region of 100 hangovers this year but I didn’t wake up this morning and think ‘Jesus not another hangover’. For a start, I don’t wake up anymore. Something happens to me in the morning but it certainly isn’t waking up; more moving from one petrified state to another. Second, I didn’t have the cognitive ability to think ‘Jesus not another etc.’ so probably just thought ‘erk’ or ‘uhhhng’ or ‘neerrff’ – I’ve given up thinking in nicely constructed formations of words and prefer to think in grunts these days. Much less taxing. Try it, please, it’ll change your life.
Where were we? Ah yes, we were hungover except we weren’t hungover. I’ve had a period of sobriety you see (since Sunday – doesn’t really qualify as a period) and so there was no way I could have been hungover. Except that I was. So it seems that I get hangovers even when I haven’t been drinking. Where’s the justice in that? Up my ass, that’s where.
I think this morning’s hangover was a stress hangover. I’m currently working on my proposal for a book based on Pitching the World and that proposal is being sent off to my award-winning agent tomorrow and he in turn is going to send the proposal round to a bunch of publishers who in turn are going to tell me go fuck myself, to perhaps stick my proposal up my ass along with the justice. Oh please don’t let that happen. Please, publishers, don’t tell me to stick things up my ass.
The reason for them potentially wanting me to stick my proposal up my ass is because I have no idea on this retarded planet what Pitching the World is about. None. Do you? How do I make it attractive to publishers? My approach at the moment is all “In 2009 Steven decided to pitch all 642 magazines in the Writers’ & Artists’ Yearbook. Now, some two years later he’s pitched very few of them, hardly been commissioned at all, has lost his hair and his looks and his confidence and learnt nothing. Seriously, nothing. If anything he’s unlearnt stuff. He also suspects he has been blacklisted by the entire UK media industry. If he has, he’s fucked. If he hasn’t, then he’s genuinely paranoid, and fucked. He did, however, have a football trial and drew some good pictures and wrote for the British Journalism Review. Thanks. Can I have a £45,000 advance please.”
That’s my approach so far. I know: not good. But what’s it all about, this whole Pitching the World business? This is half rhetorical/half please help me out because otherwise I’ve a lifetime of hangovers and hangovers that aren’t even hangovers to look forward to.
Thoughts welcome. Thanks.