Sometimes you have to just go for it. I was getting so sick of my boss’ bullshit. He’s always putting unrealistic deadlines on me, making terrible changes to my articles, and assigning me asinine things like interviewing the one guy who still says radical. WHO CARES? Not me.
So I did it, I told the editor of Hard Style to go fuck himself. I went right up to him and said it, “Go fuck yourself, Ed. You fucking asshole!”
What a rush. Pure euphoria.
Suffice to say, this is the last article I’ll be writing for Hard Style before they inevitably cut off my WordPress access. I could really use some help getting new freelance writing gigs. Seriously, I now have almost unlimited time to write other articles like these. My contact info is at the bottom of this article, please hit me up. Making rent is gonna be tough this month.
But man, did it feel good to tell that jaded goof where to shove it.
A staff writing position somewhere would be ideal, or maybe I could get into editing? That’s always been my dream. I’m sure I could do a better jobs than the hacks running this publication. It was liberating, pure bliss to let that jackass know how I felt. But sitting here now in my apartment, the reality of my situation is definitely setting in. If there’s any other subculture lifestyle blogs or whatever looking for some help, please, please, let me know.
Fuck, this wasn’t a huge mistake was it?
I’ve never felt more alive, but I’ve also never felt more scared. I’ll take what I can get. Clickbait, fake news, whatever man, I’m just trying to eat over here.
The artist’s struggle is real. Especially when you quit your only paying gig in a fit of rage.
I hope it isn’t an issue that I probably won’t have any writing references. This was my only freelance job and I almost definitely burned that bridge with Ed. Ah, who am I kidding. Ed’s a nice guy, he’d probably still put in a good word.