Interview with the Author - Advertising

Let's be clear about blogging: It is a way for those of us with computers to elegantly express our importance.

I have a computer. That is as plain as the nose that you can imagine on my face. I am expressing my importance, and the importance of What I Am Doing and Why You Should Care.

So, I will not pretend as if we are both fools, you and I, dear reader.

You are reading this blog because you are interested in watching people argue; you are interested in me, personally, because you thought I was the bass player for Rancid; you love the Stage; you have developed a sort of habit of reading it you cannot explain; or, perhaps, you harbor a secret crush. Nonetheless, you do not come here seeking advertising.

I, though, would argue that I am an advertisement for myself. Aren't we all? Isn't that painfully true, what I have said?

Therefore...

I am about to advertise to you. I am about to, as you read this, sell you a "ticket." Isn't that word so inadequate for what it means? I am going to sell you permission to view my Art. "Ticket" simply doesn't do the thing justice.

Ahem.

Either way...you could stop reading at any time. You are currently being Sold to. Advertised upon and at. It might disgust you. It might hypnotize you. It might confuse you. You might say "Why does the bass player from Rancid talk like an 8th Grader writing in his diary after reading a text book about philosophy he found at a street sale?" You might say that, and I wouldn't blame you.

Now that you have gone through that little crisis, and find yourself still reading, you'll find that I haven't lied to you. In fact, I've helped you. You're now saying to yourself "Sell to me." I mean, why wouldn't you? You know what's coming. You want to get it over with.

I'm just preparing us both for the inevitable. That way I feel less like a pathetic Willy Loman; and you feel like you're being respected. I'm respecting you, as hard as I can, with this advertising.

This is, in its way, the most respectful advertising you probably have ever received.

It begins:

I am a playwright, and not a bass player. That should not be held against me. A play of mine, called "An Interview with the Author" was seen in June as a part of the terribly entertaining Pretentious Festival at the Brick Theater in Brooklyn, NY. If you did not to attend any of the performances that were held in June, you have not entirely failed yourself. "An Interview with the Author" will go on, but only four more times. If you do not see one of those four performances, its likely you will never see it.

So see it.

The "tickets" are inexpensive. You'll likely spend more money afterwards on whatever liquor keeps you from killing yourself. The performance is not terribly long. In fact, I spend more time convincing myself that I am not fooling myself, than I do performing this particular play on-stage. A short play and inexpensive "tickets" adds up to one thing: More time to drink so that we all do not kill ourselves.

Or, if you are in AA, more time to look at those of us drinking, happily remembering that time you almost killed yourself with a bottle.

Christ, this has gotten off-track.

Anyhow...the play has been acceptably reviewed by websites and bloggers. It has been ignored by the print media, because they are busy forgetting how to find their own asses with their hands.

Attend a performance. The performances, in July, are:

7pm Friday the 13th (Oooh, some idiots find that interesting!)
7pm Saturday the 14th
7pm Friday the 20th
7pm Saturday the 21st

Why shouldn't you see it at this point? You've actually invested a fair amount of time thinking about it. Because you are being Advertised To. I mean, you knew that, but let's just all be upfront about it.

Now that this dirty business is over with, you will purchase a ticket or e-mail your friends and say "Hey Let's All See This Young Upstart Writer Who Will Entertain Us."

Thank you for your kind attention.