I'm famous. (In Starr-Iva, SC.)

Man, this whole blog thing is really taking off. The reason I know this is a guy at the Clemson University library--someone I have never met in my life--told me today, "I like your blog. Good job. It's sharp." Hearing this I promptly put on my giant rockstar sunglasses and curtly told him he must be either a)mistaken, b)a poor judge of literary talent, or c)both. But secretly I was both shocked and pleased. After asking him several questions--in a mean and antagonistic manner that would make a courtroom lawyer proud--I found out that he was only one degree away from someone I knew: Simon Grant, a writer/teacher/classmate/friend of mine. What a fucking disappointment. And here I was expecting him to have heard about me through The New Yorker's "Definitive Best Blogs Ever" or some other hoighty-toighty crap like that. But still this moment of recognition gives me hope that one day everybody in the world will be required to read my writings. That's right. Children ages 1-99, Seoul to South Africa to San Jose will be forced with pointy objects to read Yeh, James Yeh. Read or die motherfucker, indeed.

By the way, if you're reading this you might be interested in this newspaper: The Clemson Forum. It's Clemson's Progressive News and Opinion Source. I was a co-founder for this newspaper, and we will have an issue out in mid-September. Submissions are being accepted for it.

That's my plug.

Here's a picture of yours truly preparing to write my next blog. The guitar helps me think. I would like to say it helps me get lots of girls, but that would be a gross exaggeration. More like helps me get a lot of dudes who want to "get together and jam".

(And no, the word "jam" is not a euphemism for gay butt-sex. However if it was a euphemism for such things, I suppose one could then say that the pink shirt I'm wearing helps me get a lot of dudes who want to "get together and jam".)