It's been said that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. While I won't disagree, I just want to express my appreciation for the fact that the very same subterranean motorway is also lined with an endless supply of bars and liquor stores, especially in my neighborhood. The Wicker Park area is sort of like the appendix of Chicago, in that nobody really has much idea of what it does, although it does like to sound more important than it actually is. But, here at least, somewhere between hipster heaven and Little Puerto Rico, there is no shortage of watering holes, and for that I am eternally thankful. Nor am I left wanting for taco shacks (although the Puerto Ricans seem to have confused the structural logistics of the taco with that of the wonton).
My beer of choice is Two-Hearted Ale. My author of choice is Terry Pratchett. My landlord breathes through his mouth. My neighbors all own pit bulls that I pray will eat eachother. And, this weekend I interrupted a man and his son tandem pissing in my parking spot beside the building. But, at least it's cheap. What better surroundings could a virile young writer hope for? I write, I do construction work to pay the bills, and I pretend to be an attentive graduate student. My girlfriend keeps me sane.
But, enough about me. Welcome to our blog. As the name banner of this blog so vaguely implies, sometimes it's necessary to drown your sorrows in a hot shower, and pretty damn nice to sip a cold one while you're doing it. If you've never tried it, I highly suggest making your way to the nearest liquor store (unless it's Manny's, on Division, the cheap bastard), buying a six-pack, and throwing that water-conserving shower head out the nearest window. Sip a brewski and wash the stank away. Some days, it really helps to take the edge off, while others, it may actually take you off the edge. Case in point: this week, Bryan and I got a nice little cock-punch from the universe, which came in the form of a letter from the editor at a major publisher, who had previously offered to buy our collaborative novel a few months back. Apparently, the book world is currently stiffer than the men of the porn industry, and our little baby was tossed back to the lake, like the nine-eyed Chernobyl herring that she is.
Nonetheless, we rally onward. This blog is the rambling outlet for we two writers, who have repeatedly been let down by an industry suffering from literectile dysfunction, and the various reasons we have masochistically decided to stay the course. Because, really, what other option is there? Give up...watch American Idol...write screenplays? Not a chance in Hell.