I was asked today by someone who I only barely know, "Why do you even bother?"

She was asking this in reference to my writing.

I had to ask her for clarification, since I didn't quite know if she meant "Why do you even bother [writing, since your writing sucks]" or "Why do you even bother [writing, because no one cares anyway]?" or maybe even a possible third meaning.

It turns out she meant, "Why do you even bother writing, because you aren't making any money at it."

This turned into a gigantic discussion about the reasons people undertake certain tasks in life. I tried to explain to her that I write mainly because I genuinely enjoy hearing / watching people's reactions to what I have written. I like to see the thoughts of the day, the concerns about what to do later that evening or what bill is overdue or how on earth am I going to afford the such-and-such just drift out of their head and have those thoughts replaced by something entertaining, even if only mildly so.

She didn't get it. "If you can't make a living at it, why even bother? That doesn't make sense."

I then told her that SHE didn't make sense and that she was wasting vast amounts of valuable oxygen by existing, and if she would, could she please cease doing so immediately. She huffed and told the friend of mine she was with that I am extremely rude.

The truth is, that above reason is only half true. I mean, the entirety of the statement is 100% true, but it isn't 100% of the reason I write. The truth is, a majority of the reason why I write is because if I did not - If i didn't find some way to make some of this insanity in my life turn into a positve thing, a funny thing... Well, I might just spontaneously combust. Now, my mother raised me to have respect for people, especially the ones I do not know. And I know that there are custodial staffs in service at most public and some private venues who wouldn't very much appreciate having to clean bloody chunks of Joe off of the chandiler and draperies. I really, really don't want to do that to them.

So, I write out of respect for janitors everywhere. No one else, really. Just janitors.

Oh, and to see people laugh a little. That's part of it, too.


I have this new gig I'm doing for a friend of mine's new project.

He's a photographer and takes pictures of models, and is launching a new monthly e-zine or what have you, featuring a new girl every month. My job there is to interveiw the model for her feature in the e-zine.

I did my first such interview this past Saturday.

It was, indeed, an experience. I can't really go into too much detail, because I don't want to spoil the interview for you. Suffice to say, I don't think I'm really the type of guy that should be interviewing models. Which is what makes it so darned special.


Well, if this isn't annoying...

My only concern is that people will look at my stupid journal site (all 4 of them) and think "Man, Joe copied that Kurt Cobain book." It's not a concern because there's another design like mine out there, it's a concern that people would think I would actually want to copy Kurt Cobain.

Dammit. The fucker's been dead for 8 years, and STILL, he annoys me.


My mom joined Mentally Incontinent. She's read a few of the stories before, but now she's an official member, and has dug through all the archives.

She was none too pleased with the Alison story. Same with the Katie story. And that's understandable. I'm sure it's difficult to read about your son's previous sexual exploits, regardless of how clumbsy and humorous. However, I tried to warn her long beforehand that she'd disapprove of some of the material on the site, and I instructed her to completely dismiss any desire she may have to give me crap about any of the stuff she didn't know about.

She didn't listen very well.

So now, on top of all the dirt she already has on me, there's a whole new layer of topsoil to start planting little seeds of guilt.

Anyway, her username is 'mom'. If you see her online, say hi :)


Putting together this Mentally Incontinent Monthly thing has been a blast. Even if I manage to sell zero copies, the experience of doing the cover alone was worth it. Of course, my hope is that this thing will be a massive hit; the allure of being able to read a Joe The Peacock story from the comfort of one's toilet being far too great to deny. I'd love nothing more than to call Kenney (my printer) and say "Dude - print up 22,000 copies."

Really, the experience alone has been worth every ounce of effort - it's a blast. And the stories - 2 of the finest stories I think I've ever written (one as a present for a friend - which they said is quite good, the other inspired by my recent visit to New Orleans and probably my favorite story of mine), along with "Talk about blowing an opportunity" and a guest story by none other than the writing powerhouse that is Sharky, and man - you have one heck of a cool item.

Well, except for the stories I wrote. Those are crap.