Confession Time


This has nothing to do with anything. I just like to mess with paint. And politicians. And laser eyes.

So, I should probably come out of the closet about something. Guys, I totally write poetry. Not very often, and not very well- but it’s there. If you’re ever bored and you need something to mock, you can check out my account at Hello Poetry.

I’m sure you’re not surprised. I bet most of you writer-type people do it. Poetry is the pot of the fiction world- it’s fun, a little bit embarrassing once you reach a certain age, and if you do enough of it society assumes you live in your parent’s basement and can’t hold a job for your life.

(I live upstairs, thank-you-very-much. My basement is scary. Seriously.You know my first book? That spooky horror novel where a basement tries to eat a teenager? Yeah. That’s pretty much how I see it.)

On an unrelated note, I finished Tom Robbins‘ Villa Incognito this morning. It was very good! Stubblefield (a fat MIA drug smuggler who waxes poetic and has a tiger tattooed on his chest) was my favorite character. I liked his pretentious, bitingly-wise lectures. Here’s a quote:

Dern: “Jeez! I wonder which god it is that’s the God of Bullshit?”

Stubblefield: “All of them, Goldwire. All of them. No particular god gets to preside over bullshit, or else they’d fight among themselves for the privilege. The gods tolerate the human race for no other reason than our talent for bullshit. It’s the only thing about us that doesn’t bore them to tears.”

Annnnnnd gonna get back to writing, now. Then work. Then – Space.



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