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Some people will tell you that you should write for yourself and not worry about what anyone else thinks. What I'd like to know is who these mutants are and how they are able to assume human form. I write for myself every day in my journal. In it I name names and I'd actually prefer that people don't read it until after I'm in the ground. But the writing I go out of my way to make public is stuff I want people to read and like. I'm not necessarily seeking affluence—I don't need a Hummer or Kohler water fixtures—but the ego, ladies and gentlemen, is a hungry bitch and must be fed.
As for my feelings about the central issue that Conversely addresses, let me just say this about relationships: I've broken my left foot a couple of times, I was kicked out of graduate school, I once was hit in the face with a softball so hard that I couldn't remember my parent's phone number, I've had four wisdom teeth pulled, I’ve eaten bad yogurt (did anyone know this was even possible?), and I'm a San Francisco Giants fan. So let's just say that I have a passing familiarity with suffering. But none of those things compare to the pain, misery and frustration of trying to make a relationship work. If you still feel the urge to learn more about me—first seek counseling and then visit my website or e-mail me at gcozine@yahoo.com. My work has also appeared in Elysian Fields Quarterly and Absinthe Literary Review. One of my poems will appear in Issue #12 of bottle rockets to be published in early 2005. "I Am a Ball Bearing" was my first paid published piece. But enough about me—let's talk about you. That's a nice shirt. Silk?
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lthough most everything you could ever want to know about me—and substantially more than I ever intended to reveal—is contained in my two essays, apparently that isn't going to dissuade me from saying a few more words about myself.
Of course I often have a Groucho Marx-type reaction to my writing successes. Whenever it appears as if an editor might accept a piece of my writing I start to wonder, "What the hell is wrong with you?" This is also very similar to my internal monologue when women agree to go out with me.
