Here it is, blog entry number one. Is it just me, or does writing into the ether feel like talking to air?

So, air: by way of introductions my name’s Scotch Wichmann, I’m a writer, a recovering L.A. performance artist, and a starving San Francisco stand-up comic clawing his way up the funny wall. I’ve spent 5 years writing a comedy novel that’s been rejected by 60 agents so far, my corporate job is killing me, and it’s rough being a yankee free marketeer in a socialist town. I like performance art, writing, stand-up, improv, circus freaks, art manifestos, Surrealism, Libertarianism, freedom, crunchy-sounding electronica, film, design, architecture, sleight of hand, UFOs, chemistry sets, extra-sensory perception, shamanism, mediums, espionage, the criminal mind, abnormal psychology, nuclear weaponry, the 1970s, the 1980s, French, Okinawan karate, knives, running, computer programming, encryption, motorcycles, tatouage, beer, and barflies.

And so all of *that* is what I’ll be talking about. I mean writing about.

This entry was posted on Saturday, June 28th, 2008 at 10:35 am and is filed under Confessions. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.