It’s starting to get downright creepy around here! I called Lambchop last night, but it seems she is on vacation, so I had to speak with Wern-chop instead. Wern-chop isn’t the greatest listener, I’ll admit. S/he kept saying things like “I see planets that don’t exist and landscapes that have only been dreamed.” I asked her what she thought of these shoes I was thinking of buying, and she said “We are surrounded by worn-out images, and we deserve new ones.” Well, OK, then. So you think I look worn-out!
Then I found out that Wern-chop gets a 401(k). I don’t even have one of those. I decided that this settles it. I am launching my own ghostwriting and living services. I will be you in the ether of the internet. I will update your Facebook status, your Twitter, you Tumblr, and your Friendster, your LinkedIn, your Myspace. Your Plaxo, whatever that is.
See, I am already me in both real life and on the internet, so I have the necessary experience.
I will also answer your emails and formulate responses to the thorniest problems, both existential and otherwise. Perhaps you need a boost at work, or you need to fire a tiresome friend. I will do this and more. If anything backfires, then I will blame your ghostwriter.
Here is a sample faux life experience (this one is free!): you are on vacation. It is very exotic, and everyone is jealous at first. You have just conquered the Khyber Pass. Oh no, now there is a river! It is too deep to ford. One of your oxen has escaped and eaten a village child, and your mother has succumbed to cholera. You don’t have long yourself. I have selected the appropriate victim tribute photo for your Facebook page, and I have applied to have it memorialized.
I am so hired!
I am writing this, but someone else is thinking it for me. At last, at last. Outsourcing thought is amazing. All it took was getting stuck in a thunderstorm. Safest place is in the car, my ass. I should have worn my jacuzzi suit. Ghost thinker is writing down a memo. No, ghost thinker is making me use the voice memo feature on my phone. Thanks!
Earlier I was at the market, and there was a big pile of Harry Potter books on the floor. They were marked down to $10. How could I resist? I bet these are illegal Harry Potters, written in a sweatshop in China. The stitching will break down after one washing. So far, the plot isn’t what I expected. Harry Potter has returned to the king with the swords of several famous assassins, and he’s going on and on about he slew them. The king is skeptical. Jet Li is there.
Ever feel like you got off on the wrong train, stuff like, pill on the wrong planet?Â Maybe that is why I keep having to move around.Â You spend too much time in one place, and barnacles begin to colonize.Â That, and you find you have slept with everyone.Â I love this pretty little town, and quite a few of the people in it, but this Lambchop was destined for bigger things.Â Â So while Licketysplit is having her day ghostwrittenÂ (a concept yet more fresh and novel than my get rich quick idea of a service plan in which you pay someone toÂ communicate thoughtfully to others for you!), while sheÂ plots world domination fromÂ the kiddie pool*,Â I will be locked in my studio, not just making work but hatching schemes.Â Hopefully Five Years will see me having 5 ounces of salad opposite David Bowie.Â Â
I am going to go ice skating and think about it.Â
*I emailed her to ask if someone was ghost writing her replies to me.Â the answer came back “maybe!”Â Chilling!Â
By my estimate, I engage the services of a dentist, an orthodontist/cosmetic dentist, a doctor, a lady parts doctor, a hairstylist, a colorist, a lawyer, an accountant, a financial advisor, the occasional cleaning help, a tailor, a trainer, a mechanic, an insurance agent, and now a ghostwriter. How did this happen? I am an invalid, incapable of all but ordering plane tickets on line. And preparing recipes that do not require fine chopping.
The ghostwriter will be undertaking all of my personal correspondence, starting today. For a monthly retainer, she will be writing this journal, commenting on the journals of others, answering my emails, and generally insulating me from the public. I have ordered a rubber stamp of my signature. I feel like Kostabi!
If only I could have her go to the gym for me. And the bathroom. I’ll be in Phuket if anyone needs me.