The Lifestyle Zoo
Alright, for real this time.
I have been ignoring my ‘content production duties,’ sure. The element of this being ‘a gay waste of time’ seems to be pervasive whenever the thought of ‘posting on my blog’ crosses my mind.
I fucked off for fall, ran away to do ‘real world’ projects which ease the pain of being ‘an online figure.’ I sat my white ass down in the library and read my little books about the systems novel and wrote absolutely nothing that could be useful here. I completely forgot about ‘myself online’ for months on end, periodically logging in to post my little New York Times joke and then moving on with my day: a great way to live.
I’ve talked before about how I accidentally took the Ted-pill and wound up living in the middle of nowhere, which - shockingly - did not make my life any better. I absolutely hate the idea of moving back to the city - being corralled into wine bars as a means to ‘do business,’ having to be concerned with regularly scheduled haircuts. No, can’t do it. However, the peace that you assume comes with living with no neighbors is a thing of the past. They know everything about you - what you usually buy from the grocery store, when you’re home and when you’re away… and they’re eager to let you know that they know.
“Hey, so-and-so saw ya down at the market grabbing instant coffee again - you must go through a lot of that stuff, huh?”
I haven’t said a word about myself and these people know my complete background - as if they published a FOIA on me in the weekly printed gazette.
So, again - I tried to disappear into the city. I talked to no one, let no one know where I was - desperately trying to ‘make something happen’ in my brain.
I don’t believe I have writer’s block; I just can’t stand sitting still. I want to go for a run and then lay on the beach. I want to go to a farther-than-necessary neighbor for lunch and then walk back. These are the things that make me happy: unscheduled physical activity. In the city, I can indulge my whims to stray like a situationist - going wherever my feet point me as the destination truly doesn’t matter.
Now I am back in the country, no distractions - but i’m somehow still retarded.
What’s my point here?
The Lifestyle Zoo has, by far, been the most annoying project i’ve done as a ‘real person’ or otherwise. I’ve been advised to not go too deep into the lore, but it’s very funny that out of all the antagonistic bullshit i’ve done (buying Zero Books dot com from underneath them, releasing a book with the same name before Watson could release his, etc), this has drawn the most ire.
Yes, this book technically already came out as a PDF. I sent it around to friends and posters alike - normal protocol. I assume that [name redacted] saw a screenshot making fun of him for being ‘a gay retarded cryptogrifter’ and then sent his weirdo art lawyer after me. No problem, not an issue, not the first time - you already know all of this.
I couldn’t reconcile with what to do with the rest of the book.
Beyond the fact that this guy clearly has more traditional resources at his disposal, I simply was over the project as a whole. I didn’t want to rework it. I let it sit until I had a eureka moment - which never came.
I reread it a few weeks ago and decided to just let her go - remove the offending essay and move on. There are new books in progress and I don’t want to mourn the loss of a thousand words for a second more. To be honest, I was being a defeatist pussy about the whole thing - I couldn’t focus on anything else because I was so pissed at having to submit.
The point? The book is done. It’s, uh, a hundred and something pages about jacking off (or not jacking off), working out, repetitiously ruining jokes, trying to fake a clinical hormone test to get medical grade testosterone, taking drugs to improve concentration, listening to 144hz music to improve my sex life… it’s about being on the internet. Some pieces you may have seen but probably not - all the good stuff has been kept aside until now.
It’s on Amazon, obviously, and i’ll put the PDF on Libgen… in a few weeks probably, after it has a moment to simmer. Maybe after the big man notices my joke.
In the meantime, buy a book or a shirt so I can keep working in exile.