Ideally I could be Fred Colton all the time. Damn, that guy can talk, every line on his site is laced with charisma… But he only exists online, Fred is not real. Out in the real world it’s just me, contributing nothing of value to any given situation, wearing some boring pants like khakis as I suck the energy out of the room.
It doesn’t make sense. I write at night, hit publish and then my brain just burns up all the material. Wake up in the morning with an empty head, struggle to come up with interesting, compelling shit to say. It usually doesn’t work out, usually I drive my conversations off a cliff. Everything else in the world, you get better at it the more you do it. Everything but talking. Start life awkward and you’ll finish it that way.
I want to break cover and put the blog on my Facebook. But then I’d never get hired anywhere. Still, it would be fun to say: look at this secret life I have. One time I wrote a thing that got 60 WordPress likes. I’m boring in real life but I’m hot shit in a fake world, is what I’m saying. Why aren’t you wet yet.