Howdy. Hello. Heya. What’s up? What’s happening. It’s a new day. The sun shines, birds sing, flowers bloom. The pandemic is gone. Hold up. Wait a second. That can’t be right. *checks calendar. checks new calendar* Shit. Fuck. Shitfuck. Fuckshit.…
Howdy. Hello. Heya. What’s up? What’s happening. It’s a new day. The sun shines, birds sing, flowers bloom. The pandemic is gone. Hold up. Wait a second. That can’t be right. *checks calendar. checks new calendar* Shit. Fuck. Shitfuck. Fuckshit.…
It’s cliché as hell to say the lonely writer. Ehhh, it’s expected, even. The words go together like fried and chicken. Peanut and butter. Happy and new year. Yet, it’s sticks better than super glue to flesh. And it’s true.…
I could just leave it at that. One singular sentence to sum up writing. Fits perfectly. Very apropos. But, no. There’s more. Lots more. It’s hard like getting out of bondage. Or a straight jacket. Or an insane asylum. For…
I was recently told to go write. This is only weird because the words came from a friend. It’s not like I tell people what to do. Well, *laughs* I do if ‘go fuck off’ or ‘go fuck yourself’ counts,…
[contact-form][contact-field label=’Name’ type=’name’ required=’1’/][contact-field label=’Email’ type=’email’ required=’1’/][contact-field label=’Website’ type=’url’/][contact-field label=’Comment’ type=’textarea’ required=’1’/][/contact-form] As writers, we hole-up, dig in, hide; become introverted for our existence in order to pen creatively. We cut ourselves off from society just so we can hone…
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