Monthly Archives: March 2006

Why We DO What We Do

Here’s why we do what we do. When you come on and you’ve got a band or a book or I don’t know–a fucking short film or whatever that you’re trying to promote, you really feel like you have something that people will dig, like you have something worthwhile that will possibly be life-altering in somebody’s life in some minute way, if peeps will just give it a second of their time, just realize that it isn’t all half-baked nonsense. All of us think this or we wouldn’t be wasting our time–let alone yours–with the often thankless (though thankfully sometimes very rewarding) task of getting people who have never heard of you to give your creative endeavors a shot. All of us self-promoters are in this boat. And percentages tell us that if there’s a hundred people on your friends list who are pushing one thing or another, at the very least a good 50% have to be pushing something that is still far FAR from being ready for public consumption. Then of the remaining 50% that might be worth half a fuck, half of that stuff is not to your specific tastes. So what’s that leave? Like 25%, ON THE HIGH END? 1 in 4? So one in four books or bands or poets or conceptual artists are possibly worth a deeper look.

“Well, Frank,” you say, “even though those might be halfway decent odds that I’m not completely wasting my time when I pause to check out some struggling artist’s shit, you’re not taking into account the fact that I already have a shit-pile of books piled in the corner and on the dining room table and on the back of the toilet that I’m trying to work through by authors that are already published. I have a ton of CDs I don’t even listen to anymore. I don’t think I’ve ever even been in the market for art. Posters are the new art, weren’t you ever in college?” That may be so, but I look at it like this–and pay close attention to this part, ’cause this is the part where the camera slowly, almost imperceptibly, zooms in on the face of the guy talking with cigarette smoke swirling around his head:

How did those books get published? How did those bands get record deals? How did Carmen Electra’s tits get big enough to warrant a whole fucking line of posters? Fact is, there’s very little real shit out there anymore. By the time most of the shit you buy gets to your brain it’s been compromised and reconstituted to the point that it isn’t IT any more. And any time you support one of us losers trying to break through, you make it a very real possibility that something genuine, something authentic is actually going to break through all the bullshit and make a fucking mark.

Over the next few months you are going to have the opportunity, should you decide to hang with me and get on board this thing, to talk to a bunch of writers and artists who are the real motherfucking deal. You are going to be able to take part in a real, true-life grassroots movement to make authors and other artists more in touch with readers and anyone else who appreciates the tenets of good art and authentic movements, to get good art in the hands of the very few of us left who still venerate the TRUE, the ruddy salt of the earth type stuff that too often gets watered down before it has a chance to truly make a mark. There are some very powerful and well-known authors and other artists who very much believe in this ideal, who want to kick against the pricks (no pun intended) and take us back a few years–decades–to where life imitated art and the shit that truly matters makes its way back into the bloodstream of art and life. Into the bloodstream of America. It has always started with people like us. That is what all this expression is about, anyway. Isn’t it? Because for me it isn’t just some fucking soundtrack to play while driving down the highway, a soundtrack that I turn off when I dutifully march to my 8X8 cubicle every morning. And it isn’t for you either. That’s why you started reading, started coming by here in the first place, ain’t it? Because somehow we see life in these same terms, more or less.

The time for complaint is over, the time for doing something about the social and spiritual atrophy is now. The time for action is upon us. I mean, for the love of Christ, it’s been 15 YEARS since there was anything even halfway resembling an artistic and/or social upheaval in this country.

I’ll be in my *new and improved* chatroom tonight from 9-11 EST should you decide you’d like to discuss shit like this some more.

Talk soon.


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Chat TONIGHT, Chat in 2 Weeks With Josh Kilmer-Purcell (I AM NOT MYSELF THESE DAYS)

Hello, everybody, my faithful readers. Tonight I will be in the chatroom at from 9-11 p.m. I’d love to chat with you guys again. But this is more than just a mere chat. No, like everything else surrounding futureproof, this will be the start of something far bigger than just chatting. For you see, on Tuesday, April 4th, Josh Kilmer-Purcell, NY TIMES bestselling author of the memoir I AM NOT MYSELF THESE DAYS, will be the first of a series of authors generously dedicating an hour or two of his time to come talk to us about his book, writing in general, and anything else you might want to ask him. The only catch is that, due to the incredibly large turn-out this is likely to bring about, we are going to have to limit who can actually participate in the chat to around 20 people. The 20 people who will be invited for the private chat with Josh will be chosen based on their level of interest, displayed as such by submitting questions to me beforehand. So if it sounds at all apealing to talk in real time with an incredibly gifted and gracious author, check out Josh’s book:

Give I AM NOT MYSELF THESE DAYS a read and then send me your questions for Josh. And for all those who don’t get to participate, I will be reposting the entire chat on my blog.

“…a delicate narrative that spares not an ounce of pain but never once aims for contrition. Effortlessly entertaining yet still heartfelt; the romance of life as an escape artist.”


“jaw-dropping….[Josh Kilmer-Purcell’s] trenchant memoir captures the madcap rush of the once-closeted arriviste’s first brush with city life, a fall from innocence that still haunts him. (Pasages recounting his idyllic boyhood are particularly wrenching.) Remarkably, he retells the saga of their doomed affair with levelheaded grace.”

Entertainment Weekly

“I AM NOT MYSELF THESE DAYS is a glittering, bittersweet vision of an outsider who turned himself into the life and soul of the party. Kilmer-Purcell’s cast is part freak-show, part soap-opera, but his prose is graced with such insight and wit that the laughter is revelatory, and the tears – and there are tears to be shed along this extraordinary journey – are shed for people in whom everybody will find something of themselves. In a word, wonderful.”

CLIVE BARKER, author, filmmaker, artist

“Sex, drugs, money, men dressed as women, women trying to care for them, real jobs and pretend jobs, make-up and glitter and highheels and fake tits and goldfish, true love, doomed love, crazy stupid destructive love, big expensive apartments, dirty trash strewn alleys, heartbreak and loneliness, disco balls and dance clubs, pain pain pain and beautiful New York City, I AM NOT MYSELF THESE DAYS is a wonderful book, a ridiculous book, a sad and beautiful book, a book I’ll read again, a book I highly recommend.”

JAMES FREY, author of “A Million Little Pieces”, “My Friend Leonard”

See you guys tonight. Now get reading.

Talk soon.


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