Cellphones, Spider-Man, & Submissions

It was a rather action-packed weekend for me.

While catching a tan on my Casper-skinned body, sipping dollar beers, and skimming waves while singing “I’m On A Boat”, I accidentally slam-dunked my cellphone into the lake like Jordan in ’94. With that, I am currently operating via my home phone, waiting for the sound of my mother to pick up the line while I’m having phone sex with my high school girlfriend and me yelling, “Get off the line, Mom!”

So if you need to reach me, use 1-800-COLLECT and when you are told to state your name, tell me the plan for the evening and then hang up. I’ll tell my father to drop me off after I get into my Jengo jeans and attach my wallet chain.

I watched the rebooted Spider-Man, rehashed with the ‘Amazing’ tag. This version is instantaneously improved with the absence of Tobey Maguire, who was overly emo-tastic, and Kirsten Dunst, who is the previous generation’s version of Kristen Stewart – stoned to the moon, yet somehow functioning.

I am much more of a Batman fan, but for those of you who are on the fence about the reboot, it may be worth the money to check it out. It has a much more fluid and streamlined feel than the previous installments – probably because the studio is arching it as an integrated trilogy.

Back in May I spoke about Rejection #6. It concerned my flash fiction piece “Tattooed Hearts & Graffitied Hearts” being refused by The Citron Review; it also included feedback, which I love to get my hands on. And a few days ago, I received this comment:

Personally, this is equivalent to the rejection being hand delivered – fuckin’ fantastic, really.

Not only was Heather kind enough to make a comment, but she let it be known that not everyone receives feedback – I was one of the lucky few. These are the little things that amateur writers like myself live for, receiving a small note or words of slight encouragement from an entirely unsolicited source. It keeps the dream alive, it raises the volume of life’s soundtrack, and it reminds you that maybe you don’t suck at writing nearly as much as you want to believe.

That maybe, just maybe, you have what it takes.

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