I try to write to fiction but it always ends up being everything I want to say or am too afraid to say or too afraid of people reading. And as I suck down another Champagne of Beer and worry my pipe and keep turning up the volume on Dylan my fingers falter, nails two weeks uncut I don't and can't type the way I normally do.
I'm worried that the fiction, the caricature, the lyrics of Mama, You Been on My Mind, the dregs of my last six beers, the failed flirtations with Millienials, and dredging monetary karmic debt...
And I'm amazed it's only 9PM CST.
My nails are too long and I need a haircut though I brushed my hair tonight and I had to smile at the way I looked. I'm not abhorrent to look at but I couldn't look myself in the eye.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Greatest Hits
-
Last night I cleaned out my misc quest queue except for a quest to fight a dragon in case someone comes over and wants to see me fight a dra...
-
You're probably wondering why I am doing a TV review post, or you might not be, *shrug*. As many of you regular readers may know (or RL...
-
One of our favorite scream queens here at HYR, Jamie Lee Curtis. Still one hell of a good looking woman, must be all that activia s... -
HYR poster TiNK asked me if I would help cook for her mother's birthday so I said, "Yeah, sure." I wanted to something reall...
No comments:
Post a Comment