RuKsaK

The author was born in Boredom, England in 1947. He lived there until 1967 when a punch too hard sent him to London. There he joined the unemployed and began half-filling easy crosswords. In the next ten years he amassed over 600 rejection letters for his mediocre, clichéd fiction and managed to become a borderline alcoholic. This enabled him to wangle various disability benefits illegally. He remained deluded and opinionated about his life experiences until his tragic death in 1978.

Right at the end, no different from usual, sitting on three shoe boxes stuffed with the rejection letters, he pressed the gun firm under his chin, thinking of the parallels with Hemingway. With his finger a meagre millimetre from being fully pressed down on the trigger a single thought came to his head:
‘Get your fucking hands off me!’

It was the swiftest, most lucid thing to ever pass through his brain.
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Okay, okay – the piece of rubbish above is just something to post. I hope to have something substantial for you by the weekend – sorry for this crap.

Anyway, indulge my ego and help me – one thing I can’t write (as I’m often required by various inane sources) is to describe RuKsaK succinctly. Basically, I haven’t a fucking clue and can never get it right, or even good. So, here’s RuKsaK’s one-off challenge – write a blurb which describes this place for me and I’ll use the best one I get.

Also, as I’m an eternal whore – click on that brown and yellow ‘vote top blog’ thing in the sidebar too please. Unless you think I’m a piece of dog shit (which you may well after this post)

Cheers.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

About the author