Welp, I’ve been feeling disheartened lately. Kind of an ennui brought about by yet more rejections and some legit thought about this whole teaching abroad thing. (Which is completely different from how I decided to earn my M.A., which was more along the lines of “Hey, that’d be cool, I’ll go… there!”)
But anyway, this isn’t about my feelings, because feelings are scary and terrifying and require one to look seriously at one’s self in order to determine something, anything about one’s self. And I don’t like doing that, because that’s how literary stories are born, and I find those to be detestable and boring by virtue of their navel-gazing and lack of spaceships.
And I was thinking earlier, as I am sometimes wont to do, that it’s been a while since I’ve had a good blood-boiling rage-fest. Or, at the very least, had a blood-boiling rage fest directed at me. This got me thinking about my brief stint at The Daily Beacon, where I was so damn enthused to receive hate mail about all of my wholly irrelevant columns–which I might post up here one day, because hey, why not?
So, please, send me hate mail. I’ll go ahead and tell you my beliefs to make it easier for you.
Also, e-mails, please. (AaronCSimon[at]Gmail[dot]com) I forget about comments on here, and if it goes down on facebook, I’ll just try to troll you.