Not feeling so much drunk right now as I am mellow.
I’ve had a few, it wes kind of the least I could do after engaging in my most hated thing ever … public policy making.
Just angry a lot at everyone that I hate so I went out to the corner bar with Nina and justin and Loony for a few drinks and smoother fucking nachos.
Long story short, I think I have my post airbnb life plan all figured out because I don’t really know if I am going to b able to make a difference.
A tell all novel/memoire. About my descent into madness and alcoholosim brought on by a sisyphussian struggle with city council.
Like all good novels I should start about 3/4 of the way through the story. So for me it starts in about a month.
Paris. I sit at a table for two at the Moulin Roughe in Paris. The complementary half bottle of champagne is long gone and I’m not to the hard stuff.
I don’t know what happens then because I’m going to Paris in a month (did I mention that? Well I am and I’m meeting Tabby in England and Nina in Paris) and I’m going to be there for (drumroll leading up to extremely ironic moment) AN AIRBNB CONVENTION!
That’s truer than a fucking heart attack. I am going to Paris for an AirBnB super host convention. For reals. Who knows whether AirBnb will still be doing business on the front range if they don’t help me fight this sstupid battle with the city.
But anyway, i Actually am going to Paris and meeting Nina after being verbally abused by Tabby in England (if the rain doesn’t beat me down first) and I’m going to a convention and WHAAT BETTER PLACE for me to hit rock bottom than Paris, at the convention for a business that ultimately put me at odds with the city and led to a competition free diver’s descent into alcoholism.
And then it backs up 11 months. Christmas eve, 2014. A letter comes in the mail addressed to Loony …
And there we go. Kori thinks books are more exciting when they zip around in time so I’;; start in the near end when I hit rock boottom at the Moulin Rouge and then I’ll have some kind of revelation and dig mhyself out of my stupor after a really cool drug induced montage of sex and madness.
Then I’ll be feeling all bummed about getting a nasty letter from the city.
Then I’ll be thinking that if only I could get the city to see reason after I talk to the paper.
Then the horrible hatign haters on the anonymous forum.
Then elation when I think I’m finally done …
but no. There’s more.
And then I’m all fucked up BUT I GET MY SHIT TOGETHER AND EVERYTHING IS AWESOME\
Which will probably be all meta because in the book I’ll write a book that will become famous and I won’t need to rent my guest room to strangers to make money because i’ll be a best selling author of a brutally honest but painfully brilliant memoir with accompanying blog and fan club.
Life = Art right?
Everything is going to be fine.