So, because of recent financial snags and my serious desire to be able to fucking shop when I feel like it. Back to the hustle.
Including selling of shit that I don't wear and/or doesn't fit.
Also a highlight in my opinion selling books to Powells for trade. Keep me in books.
And I'm still plugging away on my fucking poetry book. I fucked the formatting for about 12 pages so I'm laboriously fixing it now. And considering sticking a few short short bits of prose in there as well.
Yeah this whole self publishing the poetry is driving me more batty than I already am.
I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about it but yeah. I promised myself as a wee youngster I'd do it so I'm doing it.
Low mean curl of a silver tongue.
Taking in the Realm Of What.
Giving away the fury.
Yes, infect them as ye see fit.
Rages of Passion flaring like shooting stars at velvet midnight.
Be their Prometheus.
Die as their Icarus.
Rejoice in fate and Love of them.
And you will be their ~All.
Most of them are untitled bits of brain vomit.
Some of this is nice to read since I wrote some it probably ten years ago.
Working working working.
I've still not been submitting fiction around lately because I've been working on this fucking poetry. Annoying.
Also not done anymore Associated Content articles.
Non fiction doesn't move me generally.
Oh mah GAWD I just fucked up my formatting even more.
I hate it.
Okay I'm done with that for the day before I start hollering.
Now I'm sad and I'm going to go drink cocoa.