Paws for Effect
I work in a second tier glamor industry, publishing. That's where you get to hob nob with the yet to be published, the moderately literate, the nearly recognized at cocktail parties where a near name brand vodka martini is served.
Its wonderful and everything I ever wanted to do with my life.
Really?
No, of course not. I'm sitting in a printing plant on Long Island right now. It's eight thirty on a Thursday night and no, this is not what I conjured up on "Career Day" back in nineteen seventy something.
It sucks. I need to review some printed color for a to be released book jacket because the color went all to hell the first time around.
Why?
Who the hell knows? This isn't rocket science. If it were rocket science, smart people would be working at it. But they aren't. Hopeless hacks like me who took a wrong turn at the employment agency are staffing endless linoleum halls turning out book upon book that is destined for a wet glass ring on somebody's coffee table in the Poconos.
Do you think someone named Caustic Bunny could be thrilled about this career? Come on, how long have you been reading me? Both of you. You know who you are.
Speak up, stop hiding in the shadows.
So where did it all go so wrong? It didn't Not that it went right, it just went. You run along at full tilt trying to build a life and career and then you pause mid way to asess what it is you've done or haven't.
Some folks hit the sweet spot. Some folks don't and are horribly disappointed. Some just look around and realize they're a giant rabbit with a dry sense of humor.
Which is funny 'cause I prefer red vermouth in my martinis.
But anyway, at the halfway mark I've found a propensity to put words on screen and generally like what's there. Sure, it ain't Grillparzer, what is? Well, Grillparzer for starters. But half the time at least someone gets a chuckle and since there are an infinite number of halves, you should all be rolling in the aisles.
Both of you.
Or at least one of you. The half thing applied.
Bunny on.
Its wonderful and everything I ever wanted to do with my life.
Really?
No, of course not. I'm sitting in a printing plant on Long Island right now. It's eight thirty on a Thursday night and no, this is not what I conjured up on "Career Day" back in nineteen seventy something.
It sucks. I need to review some printed color for a to be released book jacket because the color went all to hell the first time around.
Why?
Who the hell knows? This isn't rocket science. If it were rocket science, smart people would be working at it. But they aren't. Hopeless hacks like me who took a wrong turn at the employment agency are staffing endless linoleum halls turning out book upon book that is destined for a wet glass ring on somebody's coffee table in the Poconos.
Do you think someone named Caustic Bunny could be thrilled about this career? Come on, how long have you been reading me? Both of you. You know who you are.
Speak up, stop hiding in the shadows.
So where did it all go so wrong? It didn't Not that it went right, it just went. You run along at full tilt trying to build a life and career and then you pause mid way to asess what it is you've done or haven't.
Some folks hit the sweet spot. Some folks don't and are horribly disappointed. Some just look around and realize they're a giant rabbit with a dry sense of humor.
Which is funny 'cause I prefer red vermouth in my martinis.
But anyway, at the halfway mark I've found a propensity to put words on screen and generally like what's there. Sure, it ain't Grillparzer, what is? Well, Grillparzer for starters. But half the time at least someone gets a chuckle and since there are an infinite number of halves, you should all be rolling in the aisles.
Both of you.
Or at least one of you. The half thing applied.
Bunny on.
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