TIMING IS EVERYTHING
This shit started all the way back in January with tons of frozen white powder and the roof almost caving. Now it’s down to the wire.
So I’m offering 20% off yearly subscriptions to my Substack forever. Mind you, I don’t know how long that’s going to be right now. But until I can’t steal Wifi or snatch a laptop, I’m going to be around. I’m a dignified personage with a great many things in my mind, so many ideas in this ADHD addled noggin.
Not that the voluminous consumption of grey market Benzos doesn’t offset it a bit.
But I need to be calm so I can make any sort of moves.
And I’ve been sitting here in front of the laptop since the last post trying to work on one of the next stories, because I miss fiction, but fiction isn’t bringing in any paper.
The theatre of cruelty brings in that money. Anyone been around a few times knows. The theatre of cruelty is me bombarding you with offers, posts, ideas, pleas, dancing for change.
I’m spanging on the internet.
A sign we held up on Haight street close to fifteen years ago read “AREN’T YOU GLAD YOU’RE NOT US?” And we all got hotel rooms, full bellies, and drunk as dragons at the end of the day. Think Tater pissed in a fake potted plant in the lobby almost got kicked out, but he was twacked out on boy, as was his way.
So here’s an offer for 20% off the yearly, in perpetuity, good until April Fools.
If you’re wondering what I want for my birthday, on April 15th, you can give me some coin early I can always use coffee.
But that’s not the point. The point is the community came together to help me when I needed it and somehow with a lot of help ten thousand dollars appeared out of nowhere like a rabbit jumping out of the magician’s hat. This got through most of February, the rot of it, the disease, the horrible shit I said to people I love.
Break it down, about 2 bands for bills in February, low end.
$900 for an attorney consult to tell us to walk away even though we had right claims on the landlord but we don’t exactly have a warchest, down five bands in theory from a denied insurance claim for loss of use because the snow and ice had nothing to do with the compromise in the roof or ceiling, nah, it was landlord neglect.
$700 on apartment application fees. Three hard credit inquiries a piece even if they shouldn’t have been but one in less than a month, and I’m left having to falsify docs to get into an apartment we could afford aside from all the helter skelter.
$3500 deposit on the apartment.
Pro-rated rent for March is $460.
Rent on this hellspot is another $1,000, delivered with a 30 day notice.
Movers are $200 an hour with a minimum of 2 hours, truck rental is on us.
$750 in moving supplies.
Before the insurance claim got denied outright, when the kitchen was just filled with my rising hatred for myself and everything else in the world, we probably spent $2,000 on DoorDash because we couldn’t cook and our insurance agent said do what you gotta do and save receipts.
March hits.
Pay bills again, that’s another 3-4 bands. Mom’s working, I’m working, Edith is in school, doing her own work.
It’s still not enough. I’m still out here doing the Masochism Tango for pennies.
Somehow in the middle of this I managed to pull a happy birthday out of the yawning black hole in the universe for
. The Birthday was fantastic. Best weekend I’ve had since last year. Goddamn, I even made a legit French Cheesecake for her. And no bullshit, it was real good. The punchline is I don’t bake.Best weekend I’ve had maybe since The Saint knelt with a rope around her neck.
But there’s always a clock. Ten days.
House isn’t packed.
So you throw everything at once.
You start a project that was meant to be running earlier but you know, life. (Emil is My Editor, which sounds self serving but yeah, I’m getting around that bend. I just want to get into this fuckin’ apartment.) Life happens and fuck you.
I’m doing the math and it’s not adding up, so.
If you got this far.
Concepts:
Who wants to start a writing group? NO, a real one.
Weekly. Low barrier to entry. Skin in the game. Hosted on Wet.ink or a private Discord (because I have a few) In the tradition of Tom Spanbauer’s Dangerous Writing workshop, but without the tautology of a brilliant teacher (this just means I’d be leading it.) Ten bucks a week. Skin in the game. Six seats. Tight group. Meant to run LONG TERM. Not a short pop.
Who would be interested in a workshop?
I have one coming up anyway with another author, but I could whip one up on Wet.ink real fast. 8 Students, 4 weeks, 150 a seat (flexible pricing) paid up front.
If you like the autopsies but you want as MUCH of what you get out of those packed into a month cram, raise your hand.
Who wants discount editing
Fees are plunging until we are MOVED. Can’t pay for a manuscript but still want help, buy me by the hour on a monthly contract. Inquiries of any nature, big, small, medium rare, send to emilottoman@gmail.com, put EDITING INQUIRY in the subject line, I’ll get back to you between panic attacks.
CONTRA
The least positive outcome
Bills don’t get paid, the deposit on the apartment gets fucked because we can’t pay the pro-rated rent and moving and bills and buy food, and we have until the end of March to find another spot with even less money.
No one wants this
When I say I’ll rob a trap house if I have to, you can hahah because I’m Emil Ottoman and this is satire but this is still STL and you know, desperate times call for desperate measures. I’m not above what I am. And society decided a long time ago I’m a criminal. Corner me and I still act just like a criminal.
Everyone says that St. Louis is a violent town.
This is a lie. St. Louis is a violent town if you’re a criminal. About 90% of the violence around here is criminal on criminal. And the cops don’t care unless an officer is involved.
When you knock a trap or a stash spot where you eat, if you don’t wanna shit in your own food bowl, you have two options. You leave an offering for the cops, and it better be all of one or the other, money or work, and they’ll ignore the black bags rolling out the house pre-dawn. Say it’s a tragic cartel related drug crime, and bounce, file their paperwork and forget it happened. Shit doesn’t even make the news. We have a hood paper the homeless sell that you can get for fifty cents and a lucy, only broadsheet in the city gonna tell you what’s really going on.
Love wins.
But in this house Violence Provides.
And even on the internet, when a person tells you who they are enough times.
Maybe pay attention.
POST SCRIPT
Any of the worst case scenarios fuck up a lotta cool shit I wanna do around here.
Writers group 100%... GMT issues, but fuck it... that's what drugs are for...
Okay, now someone's percolating.