Tuesday, October 16, 2012
I was thinking about my New Zealand friend. For those of you who don’t remember, I met him for the first time in a library in Paris and he annoyed the hell out of me.
I reconnected briefly when he was in New Zealand- a newspaper gave him an RV with the instructions to pick up hitchhikers on their way to see the All Blacks play and write about. Since rugby isn’t a real sport and New Zealand isn’t a real country I only half listened to him. Last I heard he had crashed the RV and a string of hitchhikers had gone missing.
Turns out he’s living in London. I sent him an email trying to convince him to write a post for my blog.
Misplaced: How’s it going? I was thinking about how tough it is in the world today- financial hardship, wars, famine- actually we may have licked the famine issue but still, times are tough all around. I was trying to find something positive to write about and all I could come up with was, “Christ, can you imagine having all of those dark forces in the world and being from New Zealand?” This got me thinking about you, the wrecked RV and all those poor hitchhikers that just wanted to see a rugby match. I thought you might want to write a couple of paragraphs about what it’s like to be an unemployed writer from New Zealand for my blog. I think it would really make my many readers (5) appreciate their own lives.
New Zealand: You need a ghostwritten blog?? What the fuck are you doing with yo’self.
Misplaced: A lot of people have asked about you. (this, of course, isn't true but we need to throw a kiwi a bone every once in awhile)
New Zealand: How much? How many people said no before me? Goodnight
Misplaced: I’ll buy you a coffee next time I see you. I asked a retarded kid down the street and he is considering it. At least I think he is, I laughed so hard when he spoke I might have misunderstood.
New Zealand: Write your own blog you shaggy American fuck. P.S. How retarded?
Misplaced: I’ve been blogging for a week and I’m out of ideas other than posting my grocery list and a detailed list about how the 82 year-old Hungarian neighbor has done me wrong. Maybe I’ll just post these emails so people can see how selfish New Zealanders are.
New Zealand: no response
No response means- you have my permission to post my private emails.