Warning: Some Violence and Much Strong Language.HE WROTE: I used to be a Contender
I'm sitting here in the bar writing a blog entry. Geez.
Then I go to my room shortly to watch the Veronica Mars DVDs Jenny gave me. And order a room service pizza. So I can get up at 5 to catch the shuttle to the airport.
I used to be a contender.
I have no brilliant insights. I apologize if I hurt anyone's feelings during my one on ones or during my session on 'ideas' where I sliced and diced people's book in three minutes in front of a group.
I was also told by a Cherry, who shall remain un-named, but you know who you are, yes you, that my brown shoes didn't match my black slacks and black shirt and black jacket yesterday. She said it drove her slightly nuts to watch me presenting like that. Fashion mogul I'm not.
My belt did not match my shoes.
Mea culpa.
At West Point we had 'minute callers' (plebes) who stood in the hallway staring at the clock and would start shouting at the top of their lungs starting at ten minutes before formation. They would announce the uniform of the day (which always matched) (well, Army match) and the meal if it was a meal formation. Things were easier then, in days of yore, when men were men, doing manly things, in a manly way, with other men. I'm not sure that came out right. Actually we had women there too. Second class to have women.
I do have to say I have more respect for a woman who graduated the Academy than a man because the key to surviving Plebe year was to be a 'ghost', to not be noticed. But when you're less than 10% of the population, you tend to stand out.
I have no clue what I'm writing. Teaching and doing one on ones tends to fry what little brain I have left and totally destroys my fashion sense, obviously.
I'm preparing you all for the blogs during the book tour because I guarantee we're going to be very, very brain dead, and some very bizarre stuff will come out.
I shoulda been a contender.
Stella. STELLA! STTEELLLLAA!!!
Leave the gun. Take the canolis.
17 Comments:
Just depend on the kindness of strangers, Bob.
LOL--it's OK my husband talks in his sleep. So I understood that rambling as perfectly as anybody could.
Not everybody is up on fashion--and not everybody cares :)
Just wanted to point out before someone misreads the "Second class to have women" that what Bob meant is his West Point class was the second class that included female cadets, not that admitting women made it second class.
At least, I'm pretty sure that's what he meant. :)
Corrina
And the second class reference also tells us how old Bob is....
'Leave the gun. Take the canolis'
My 12 year old son said that to me the last time I ordered canolis at the bakery. I was so proud.
Brando, err, Bob, I sat in your workshop on ideas last weekend in Cocoa Beach. (It was an offer I couldn't refuse.) Obviously, my one sentence idea needed the improvement. Thank you. I didn't notice anyone else in the room weeping. If someone couldn't handle what you said, they might want to reconsider pursuing publication. It doesn't get any easier.
You ramble remarkably well, Bob. Keep up the great work.
AND it wasn't like you were wearing white socks with your brown shoes. Were you?
Black and brown work better than black and navy blue. And black clothes with brown shoes aren't nearly as bad as black socks with brown sandals. So at least you can be encouraged by the fact that someone, somewhere, is dressed in an outfit that is uglier than yours.
Bob, have you ever heard the story that Edgar Allan Poe managed to get himself kicked out of West Point (he didn't fit into the military, surprise! surprise!) one day when the uniform of the day was "crossbelts," by showing up in crossbelts and nothing else?
You seem to have been more successful in combining the military and literary careers, and not wallowing in opium. Of course, that was before you met Jenny....
I read somewhere that writers did not recieve enough rejection as children. As a result they chose writing as a career path so that they could get the rejection they didn't get from their families from total strangers. Tragic really. By providing honest feedback you give us what we really need.
black with brown...gasp! Hasn't Jenny tutelage taught you NOTHING about shoes. (Loud Sigh) God help me...tell me you didn't have one white socks. The horror.
And about when women were first admitted to West Point - 1976 (had a friend there- a male friend)
and speaking of male friends...you're comment "men were men, doing manly things in a manly way, with other men. I'm not sure that came out right." um..yeah...maybe you want to rephrase that. :)
For Bob, you're doing an incredible job of blogging. Heck...you're doing a great job for anyone. I don't have a blog because I'd be great for about a month...then..???
Go get a beer and take a nap.
Umn---You're should have been YOUR
Spell check Cyndi...Spell check
Jeeze.
I'm not only impressed at the quantity and quality of blogging in these end-times, erm, busy times, but also that Bob ordered room service. Go Bob.
Both of you are doing a fantastic job with the blog -- we were warned to expect one a week, and here we are, wallowing in a plethora of entries! Thanks for taking the time to share what really goes on in the mind of a writer (-:.
And about the shoes -- didn't your marketing consultant touch on this? Here's what I would advise:
In a sultry voice just this side of sleazy, ask, "Are you volunteering for the job of my wardrobe consultant, sweetheart?" Prepare to catch her hand before the palm connects to your cheek. Watch out for those lefties.
As a romance collaborator, you *really* have to start thinking about the image you present (-:.
If a *guy* should happen to nag you about mismatched apparel items, I'd gently point him in the direction of Sensitive Pony-tail Man, holding court across the room.
Thanks again for an entertaining blog.
What I want to know is if Bob enjoyed the Veronica Mars DVDs? Got to say I'm not surprised Jenny is into VM. I'm also not surprised she's pimping it.... that seems to be a normal reaction for VM watchers.... Pimp the show. Pimp the show.
Just for the record, cannoli has two "n"s...
Sorry, the editor in me must speak. 8-)
Veronica Mars.
BEST. SHOW. EVER.
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