My Mission

Below is an email I sent to various friends of mine announcing the birth of BRAINJOB and its purpose.



Hello friends.

After a few email discussions with Ben, I've decided to take his advice and begin a blog. My ongoing correspondence with him has served as inspiration for involving myself in something like this. We tend to discuss a lot of political and social issues that for the most part tend to outrage me to the point of near cranial implosion. My comments regarding such issues tend to be a touch scathing. I for one am a big fan of venomous ranting and see blogging as a very effective method of sharing my biting critiques with the general public.

However, I don't intend to use my blog solely as a political soapbox, I'm simply incapable of taking myself that seriously. For quite a while I've been contemplating keeping a written journal of random bits of odd, humorous or nonsensical dialog as an exercise designed to keep my literary juices flowing and provide me with a few laughs. Now that my first novel is completed (For those of you who didn't know, yeah that's right, I wrote a book all by myself and it isn't even written in crayon) I seem to be drawn to continue along the path of writing as an artistic vehicle. I'm not fully certain if my current desire to write will be an ongoing one or if my tortured, unfocused, attention deficit disordered mind will eventually crave some other type of stimulation such as finger painting or Civil War reenactment. Whatever happens, I'll give this blogging thing a try at least for a little while.

I have just completed my first blog entry and invite you all to view it. I have named my blog, BRAINJOB : A Literary Exercise Dedicated To Random Acts Of Mental Masturbation. My first entry includes my thoughts on the death of Hunter S. Thompson. I've filled out a profile that will give you a little insight as to what my book is about too. For further details, feel free to email me or just ask Ben or Judy who have read my manuscript and have given me a wealth of feedback. In the meantime, you can visit my blog at:

brainjob.blogspot.com

Say Hi To Hendrix For Me

I take this time to bid farewell to one of the last great American outlaws. Hunter S. Thompson took on death in much the same fashion as he took on life - on his own terms. Thus far, no mention has been made by any of his friends, associates or family members of any possible depressive state or physical infirmity that may have served as rationale for his decision to end his life. It appears as if he simply saw a clear and concise conclusion to a colorful existence lived not just outside the box but devoid of one. There was no way to confine such a volatile force of nature, no law of man or god that would govern his actions or censor his thoughts. His scathing commentary ripped into the social and political hypocracy he loathed with unbridled passion. His brutal honesty, devout drug-crazed hedonism, his guns, his contempt for unrecognized, reckless authority rubbed enough against the grain of convention and political correctness to earn him the respect and admiration of all who chose freedom over drone-like conformity. Hunter S. Thompson was no saint or prophet, he was no role model or hero, he was simply a man of letters. He walked a road few could traverse without falling short of their destination. He walked the road a hundred times over and had nothing more to prove. Today, he joins the ranks of those who have also walked that road and exited the mortal plane before him: Doc Holliday, Neal Cassidy, Lenny Bruce, Jimmi Hendrix and a host of others worshipped as outlaws in that quintessential American way. It's comforting to know Hunter is in good company.