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2004-02-02 - 10:05 a.m.

So Long, Fucko's.

Yíever heard the saying, ďall good things must come to a close?Ē Welp, I donít know if a person might consider this endeavour, these last five months and 190 entries as ďgood things,Ē but itís definitely time to close shop and move on.

This is where I explain a little, so itís like this:

Recently I started posting the story Iíve been writing (reads like a fairy tale for adults, fuckwits), something Iíve never done beforeÖand that fact that I was posting an incomplete thought really got up my fucking ass like a Scot with a sheep. But to top it all off I woke up one afternoon and saw that, in an Xstatic splendor, Iíd asked for fucking opinions at some point.

Iíve never asked peoples opinions about my writing. EVER. But donít for a fucking second think a handfulla ďitís pretty crap(py)Ē typed reviews is the reason Iím Setting the Son. Read back a couple entries past the story. Iíll be fucked with a corn cob before I let ďbad reviewsĒ get to me. I discount ďI donít like itĒ reviews because there is no inherent reasoning or logic behind them. Note to most: Learn how to review and argue intelligently. You should never say a fucking word without the ammo to back that shit up.

This ďlooking for affirmationĒ Dr. Phil-typed shit I was doing, that wasnít what The Setting Son was ever meant to be. It wasnít Son Shade. This was never about ďasking opinions.Ē It was only meant to be an exercise in Journal-styled writing, starring the best ďnon fiction-typedĒ character I know. Me. My take on life is stranger than fucking fiction, so I fucking wrote about it.

And got a lot of good feedback Ė and I found I liked, because I normally never read reviews or ask opinions. The feedback early on was when shit started getting fucked around for me, I believe.

But Iíll go back a step further by saying that a lot of you assumed a helluvalot when it came to the olí Son (asíve been obvious in your notes and messages). Like the fact Iím an aspiring writer. Or that Iíve never been published. Or that I work in an ďad agency.Ē Or that I live in Vancouver. Or that I have legs, that Iím not a chick, that Iím in my 30ís, that Iím not in prison.

Iím not fucking sayiní Iím any of those or notÖbut right from the fucking giddy-up thereís been a constant theme, ďdonít judge a fucking book by its cover.Ē Remember my 3-eyed Smiley Face tat? ĎZacaly.

Iíll leave it up to you to decide the difference between fact and fiction. Iíll say, straight up that this journal became more personal than Iíd anticipated, and that is another reason Iím closing up the store. ĎCause caring what people think and letting people in on thoughts, on such a microscopic level, is never what I intended. Itís everything Iím not.

One thingís for certain, I am a writer (and a Photoshop God, but how much of a living can be made in that, really?) and one thing holds true with all storytellers is the ancient maxim, ďAll writers are liars.Ē Go back and look. Switch nouns with other nouns, read the subtext. Who I am is in there, hidden in those things I did.

None of this was ever supposed to be about you, the reader. I could have done this on a pad with a pen and itíd have done the trick.

That being said, I enjoyed and appreciated nearly every piece of feedback and any correspondence thatíd been prompted by something Iíd said. I liked the fact people read my shit, although I really didnít need the proof.

So thatís that. Iím splitting because The Setting Son has become tedious. For the past month or so itís become a chore and now that I know why, itís time to cut the gangrenous limb off and let you carrion fowl have at it Ė time to refocus and meet impending deadlines (self imposed and otherwise).

Iím still gonna haunt my regulars, the handful of you who Iím fans of know already who you are. Keep it up. I look forward to more voyeuristic reading and vicarious living.

And Iím not gonna say Iíll never be dropping a note again. Iím off to Germany for several weeks in March and April, so Iím sure Iíll want to rub some of that shit in, fer sure.

So, with that I bid you adieu and goodbye.

Now fuck off.

There really is FUCK ALL more to see here, Assface.

The Son Has Set on ALL of You

Spit it OUT, Snapperhead!

6 of you fuckers have been accounted for.

old shit. - newer shit.

Y'can't Keep a Fringe Man Down. - 2005-08-03
So Long, Fucko's. - 2004-02-02
Feedback. - 2004-01-31
Chapter 1 - Clang-Bang - 2004-01-30
The Tattooed Infant - 2004-01-29

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