Thursday, October 02, 2003
A Note on the Publishing Schedule
The constant stream of outraged e-mail, instant messages, and diplomatic pouches have adequately expressed your feelings on my somewhat abbreviated publishing schedule. You have my permission to relent. The cinderblock through the window of my H2 (license plate "BIG [heart] HMMR") was not entirely unwelcome, as I was able to parlay the insurance claim into a DVD player inside the minibar.
I hate to delve into my personal life in this space. I'm a very private person. But by way of explanation for the stanch in the flow of Bunsen, I've been busy. I'm moving.
That's right, I'm abandoning the Hollywood compound. In fact, I'm trading it in for a slightly smaller Hollywood compound. This move to a incrementally more modest space has nothing to do with the incrementally slower stream of writing work I've been offered. I've merely grown weary of my footsteps echoing through the marble-floored hallways, the banisters rubbed dull by the gradual erosion of my buttocks gleefully gliding down them, the master bedroom with a planetarium-quality R. Kelly laser light show available at the touch of a button. It's time to get more intimate with my surroundings.
Unfortunately, this has led to a round of layoffs for my compound staff. The services of the in-house curator of my acclaimed porcelain tiger collection are no longer required. Feel free to retain her -- she's signed an ironclad nondisclosure agreement, her lips will spill no Bunsen tales. Fortunately, the new compound has plenty of doors, so my door-answering girl's head will not roll, except onto my shoulder following extracurriculars, boo-ya.
I could detail the other sacrifices I've made in the name of keeping my habitat intimate, but I don't need the laudatory e-mails validating my Buddha-like asceticism crowding out the crazed plaudits of you, my loyal readers.
I love you all (not so fast, Ford!), and thank you for understanding.
Last one in the slightly less cozy hot tub has to rub my shoulders!