Books are pretty interesting, I mean they arent like maps or a gps or anything. They are just books. The other day when driving back from Raleigh NC I saw people standing in this parking lot selling their shit. There were books, baby strollers, tents,shoes, al kinds of bullshit. They needed the cash Im sure probably because the shit they were selling caused them to go broke. So, Im sure the books were probably never read, who knows, but eventually they probably end up in the back of a car and off to a flea market or whatever. So, I dont think alot of people really get the whole book thing, I mean like the whole writing thing, publishers, marketing etc. I think many people look at a book and think…uh…yea…its a book…maybe Ill sell it at the flea market…lol I dont know…Im weird. So then I started to realize that people who actually sell books and write books are a pretty fucken elite group. Like out of the norm. I dont think there are millions and millions of folks who write books. I think most just go to their ho hum job and get er done and say ok…wheres my cat or dog so I can stare at it. I think a writers mind whether you are a blogger, an author whatever is always active. When my mother in law from hell came by a while back she was like well everything you dont need , burn it…something to that effect. Shes one of those that hates everyone equally, probably doesnt aspire to do much else than sit and play freecell. If your reading this mother in law…well…Im sorry…the shoe fits. Anyways so Im thinking writing is a different animal altogether, maybe it makes people strange or maybe it just makes me strange. I dont have to get up, freeeze my ass off on a job installing electrical bullshit anymore. Or work in a freezer at 22 below zero feeling my hand burning from the extreme cold. Or even the time I was tow truck operator back in the mid nineties in New Mexico picking up DUI cars out in the fucked up woods somewhere that some Indian dude decided to use as a rolling fuckin bar stool. I mean those days are gone for me…But I did it..all of it…Even the Marines offloading a big ass truck full of mail every night…ughhh…The ironic thing is after all of that and falling victim to a fucked up illness I still want to do more…its just not for the money now..Ive learned this promotion and marketing thing is way more cool then being a slave to another company slave. Fuck that…they can have that shit. Ive learned more from people who write or are aspiring to write then the jokers I used to work for. Ive learned about publishing, marketing for free, social networking, press releases and who to stay away from in the publishing business. I also realized I dont have to be a anything but me….I can finally just chill out…I mean I aint got nothing anymore so nobody wants nothing, Thats the beauty of being me now…I can write, learn and its not breaking my back. I can meet some pretty cool people and learn about them and their books and passions (Casey…:)) And I can find a way that I can contribute..Im still learning so dont bumrush me trying to find out my secrets cause I don’t have any. Cept I learned to start wearing wool socks now cause its getting fucken cold and if I get sick who knows what’ll happen. I mean Im living with an illness that is really freakin weird. It doesn’t slow me down….just makes me wary. More alert and cautious. Other that Im just like you, look like you and maybe even think like you. Eventually Ill figure all this book thingy out…Im getting close but being very carefull to not forget this is a ride. that Im going to enjoy it before it ends….