Is it pretentious to start writing your autobiography before you've really done anything? Probably no more pretentious than writing a blog and expecting people to read it. Especially when it doesn't have structure, or regularity, or a theme. But the thing about a blog is you write it, you leave it out there, and sometimes people will stumble across it, sometimes they won't. Writing an autobiography implies that you'll shop it around and try to get it published, all in the hopes of one day walking into your local Barnes and Noble to be confronted by a glossily-covered hard-backed image of yourself. Always wanted to be a 'local author,' and so far I think I can claim that for four places, with every intention of adding to the list.

But the thing about writing an autobiography is how much of a twat should you make yourself? Everyone's got some sort of embarrassing anecdote they can tell about themselves, and some of us have a plethora of the buggers. I could probably fill a whole book on 'stupid shit Rich has done,' and have more left over for the sequel. It's not like I'm shy about admitting to the dumb stuff I can, have, and will do. If you've read more than just this entry you'll know that.

The one thing I will not admit to trying, or having any desire to trying, is choking myself while pulling one off. Not interested. Don't want to try it, never have, never will. The thing that worries me about my lack of interest in auto-erotic asphyxiation is that maybe it means I'm never going to get anywhere with my writing, never be a known, a local author. Because it seems to me that every few months you hear of another celebrity who has managed to choke not only the bishop, but themselves as well. Is is just a celebrity phenomenon? Or are there scores of people in every town, village, city, strangling themselves mid-masturbation right now?

Maybe that's the price of fame; you make a deal with the devil that you'll have fame and fortune, but be found dead in a pretty embarrassing way. Maybe that's how David Carradine secured his comeback. Too soon?

I don't think that's a deal I'm ready to make. Unless I can specify that I'll auto-erotically choke myself to death when I'm a hundred and four. Ugh.

Nope, when I'm writing my autobiography, there will be no section on that. Orgasms are great enough, I'm not greedy and have no interest in intensifying the experience if the possibility is getting found dead and naked.

Not really sure when I was going with the post, or where it came from, but it's helping take my mind off the car accident I had couple nights ago. The auto accident. See what I did there??