In what can only be called a shocking turn of events, the Reverse Cowgirl contacted me about republishing my last missive. It was, admittedly, a cry for attention and a wished for dream, but I don't recall actually submitting it to her. I remember considering it, and I think I remember deciding to take the path of cowardice (familiar and warm, that path.) I suppose there's a chance I did it when I was drunk (familiar and warm, drunk.) Regardless, she thanked me for shitting on her head, which led me to the fit of shame in which I now wallow.

She also asked me to make a couple of changes for clarification. She was right, of course, and I agreed, of course. So what does that tell you about me? I'm a spineless heel who seeks affirmation from strangers, regardless of how hollow the moment of self-confidence that results.

The question remains: If I had a camera phone, is there much doubt that my photos would been anything more worthwhile than Paul Katcher's Coyote Ugly oevre?

Analogcabin @ 12:33 PM
Permalink |