I want to write a book one day.
Obviously, it's going to be in large part about wrestling. There's been a ton of wrestling books written in the past decade and a half. I've read some of them, and it's really interesting hearing about the trials and tribulations that people go through to get to where they are. I can relate to a large number of them.
A friend of mine called it "the curse of the cruiserweight." I thought that was a pretty appropriate term for the amount of legwork that smaller wrestlers like myself generally have to go through to achieve any measure of success. A lot of people who could be considered mutual friends find out I'm a wrestler before or after meeting me. Most of the time, there's a general reaction of, "Wow, I thought he'd be a lot bigger."
It doesn't bother me at all, mind you. I am what I am, I can't change my size. At least, not vertically. I could get fatter, I suppose. I always thought heavyweight wrestlers were pretty cool, especially when they did things unbecoming of their size. With the debut of Marshmallow Pebbles cereal, maybe I can make this a reality.
I digress. What I want to write my book about is not just wrestling, but growing up in Detroit, being interwined with music, art, and later, wrestling. All of these things bounce off of each other, as evidenced by the image MCMG project. Let's face it, we're heavily stylized. Last year, we performed on the roof of a Hard Rock Hotel at the San Diego Comic Con in front of a bunch of celebrities. Daughtry opened for US. Anyway, the review the next day described us as "two highfliers wearing Hot Topic pants." Is that right? Hot Topic pants?
In my mind, I used the newspaper as the wick for a Molotov cocktail to be thrown at whomever so carelessly reported such a thing. Honestly though, I found it kind of funny, and was very happy I didn't end up breaking the poor drunk girl's foot when I executed a diving knee off the apron onto Suicide/this poor hen's digits.
It was a great time!