i have to think of titles for this? i can't handle the pressure.

i've decided to start this as i can literally feel words fading from memory. my brain is, actually and literally, rotting away. it's like when i used to smoke too much pot in high school, i would try to pull a word from my head, and it was like it no longer existed. and it's happening all over again. except minus the fun of weed. i looked at a crossword puzzle in NY Magazine, and i felt like a fool. look, i'm using words like "fool." dear, dear god. it's time to write.

the majority of the reason for my rotting brain is my job. my job that i worked so very hard to get. the job that i had worked so hard, not only recently, but basically my entire life to get. the job that you do b/c you love it, not b/c of the extremely shitty salary. salary less than my outstanding student loans. well, turns out, don't love the job. don't love the industry. i don't even like most books. most books are very, very bad.

a few months ago, i had to stamp hundreds of folders with the pub date of a certain book. a certain book written by the "lit boy" of the season. lit boy liked to look pretty and toss his pretty lit boy hair around. lit boy got a ton of media attention. i had to stamp folders for lit boy's book. stamp. folders. masters degree for this? really? multiple interviews for this? really? lit boy got like over a half a million dollars advance for his book. guess what? lit boy sold like three books. there were only about two of us in the department who thought the book sucked. i, of course, being one. it was a bad book. it was just not good. and that description is not due to the aforementioned loss of words in my memory. that description is b/c that's what it was...bad. everyone got swept away with book launch parties and millions of mentions on gawker and radar. no one paid attention to the fact that it wasn't good. that it was very, very bad. but it doesn't matter. it's the male sex and the city. that book sucked too. but it will become a television show or something and get talked about and everyone will, once again, forget that it was a bad book.

clearly, i won't be mentioning names of particular books or particular authors or particular anything. b/c god knows this would end up in someone's google alert, and the assistants would spend their day, instead of on facebook or myspace, putting their nancy drew-trained detective skills to work and attempt to figure out who i was. as if it's not so very obvious.