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And while I'm no Fyodor Dostoevsky or Jewel, I feel that I have written enough to earn a place at the table of important contemporary authors. Or at least enough to challenge Norman Mailer to a nude Jell-O-shot-drinking contest. Either way, there's no greater feeling than knowing you've reached someone with your manuscript. (My agen recently got word, in fact, that the Dewey Decimal System people were going to specifically reserve ".69" for my work.)
That's where SHAGADELICALLY SPEAKING comes in. If it's happened to me in my adventures, then it's in this book, luv. I've carefully categorized all my rites of passage and flights of fancy, in one comprehensive volume.
So fix yourself a martini, put Burt Bacharach album on the turntable - hey, make that CD player! - and give this book a look-see. It's all here, baby, and it's all about me, yeah!