Curiosity

I have for a long time now fantasized about what it would be like to live as a paid writer, but of course I do not know what the hell I would write for and I also don't know how much they'd ask me to write.

Personally I find the idea of being a journalist detestable and I do not think I would be any good at that gig, but writing random stuff (thats what I call most of what I read in magazines or even some newspapers) I think I would be halfway decent at that. I have already written thousands of articles in fact and they are all on my hard drive and no one is reading them because....I have no magazine I am attached to. But if I did have a magazine I think I wuold be very good, I would be the best guy on the squad, you better believe it . I think much of what I have written is already fully publishable albeit slightly offensive at times (and also occasionally far too long, I spose?0.

The problem of course is that a lot of what I write is illogical and my adventures as a journalist , if I had any adventures outside of my own Mind (they all take place in my mind right now) would also be just as illogical. And thats why i dont understand how the actual world of paid journalism and paid writing works. How does that part work? How do they choose one guy to write this subject or the other to write that subject? Ive never understood this.

Hence i ask: Where would the magazine send me? Like..you read Hunter S Thompsons tale and you see that at various times "they" are sending him to Vietnam, Las Vegas, California, Florida, Puerto Rico, NYC, Mexico City -- and at first glance you just sort sit there taking it all in -- but then afterwards, at least in *my* afterwards, I sit up in my lonely bedroom wondering "waaait a second, how exactly did they choose where he would go next here? There seems to be no rhyme or reason to any of this....."  And of course I am not saying that is a bad thing, because thats actually **exactly** how I write all of my articles already, being unpaid, but of course when I hand out a small selection of my articles to my friends or, worse, my family members, you know what they say of course? They tell me they are all over the place, that I cut across too many different subjects, that I cover too much stuff etcetc . This is because one minute, like last night, I am talking about Chuck Berry, then the next I am on about Johnny Depp, then Hunter Thompson, then Vietnam, then the Great Depression, so on and so forth....no real rhyme or reason...just moving around........

So I just sit wondering, you know, if I was actually on the pay-roll for , who knows, some big wig mag like Wired or Rolling Stone or The Nation or the New Yorka or blah blah, would they just let me fly off anywhere? Like can I just fly off to Bangkok? Or Istanbooool? Or Laos? Or Vegas so on and so forth ? I will tell you: I am very interested in being flown to Vietnam, because my fathers ghost haunts Vietnam, and I have unfinished business there...I just want to walk through the jungle there, to see exactly what Daddy saw ... so .....if any magazine needs a "correspondent" to go to Vietnam and then write a 10,000 word piece about what the jungle looks like and what the monkeys that are in it are like, hey, I am your main fucking dude, I am more than happy. O\

JUST GIVE ME THE $$$ aND I WILL FLY THERE GUYS......(of course I want a return flight, after about 3 weeks of being there?)

Honestyl though, another thing I always wonder: Do the modern journalists, for example, do they seriously still show up to offices - like Paul Kemp does in the Rum Diary???? It seems so absolutely purposeless. Why on earhth would any writer or journalist at all ever need an office now? Whenever I picture a modern journalist writing i just imagine him/her/the creature sitting at, like, some cafe somewhere, sipping caffe macchiato, smoking an (electronic ) bogie , pounding a keyboard on a laptop or maybe even an iphone screen. I dont see them in an office or with others  or anything like that. I picture them even on an airplane zipping around the sky dunking a donut into a glass of milk writing about how evil Vladimir putin is, with a pair of headphones on, blasting the Grateful Dead...or perhaps just "ambient sounds of the wilderness". Never do i picture a legitimate office, like they paint all the journos as being, in the old movies. You know... the famous newsrooms... who needs that now?? Who needs it?

 Thats how I do it after all. No real office. No stinkin NEWSROOM! I have one Desktop computer, a Laptop near my bed, and an iPhone, and I daily switch between the 3. At any given moment I never have any idea which one I will write on. 40 minutes ago I was lyin down in bed writing a sex story on the iPhone. Then I started writing about how much I despise Republicans on my laptop (the laptop runs Linux and is not connected to the NET). Then of course I got up and now I was thinking about writing for Wired so I started writing on this.

of course this document will not ever be seen by anyone in reality  until , like, 2100, because again..I am not connected to a magazine you know? Or a newspaper you know? So I just dump everything i write into muh hard drive ... to go silent.... SAD! I find Twitter impossible to use. I tried using it once about 4 months ago to promote a blog I then deleted, and i hated it. It ruined my writing. Couldn't get into the zone anymore.

I just really wonder how it works, i spose, and I also really wonder...if these modern journos really do have offices, what on earth do they do in them? Because again, to me, an office seems so absolutely purposeless in this modern age. If I was an actual paid journalist I would be out on the beat constantly i think ... the only reason I'm not "out on the beat" constantly NOW is because..well...I aint got no $$$$$$ to travel....but if i had the doughski , damn, I would probably be unstoppable.

Unfortunately however ... becuse Yale never gave me a degree, or Wharton, or BU, or PEEYOO, i dont get to play in the journalists club. No one will read me until 100 years after I am dead. Sigh. sigh. sigh. sigh....

Oh well / rant over.

Back to my story set in Toky0.