I hereby declare that if the "world" should actually "end," as
all those amusing morons think it will, I shall stop writing.*
Meanwhile...
Yesterday, I wrote 2,507 words on Black Helicopters. I'm relieved to be writing solid, substantial, dense text again. Joyously, unashamedly tough text. Prose that makes both me and the reader work.
Blood
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Comments 16
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Hear, hear.
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That said, you sound good. I am glad.
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When things start to go well, I comfort myself by having no expectations.
Yes!
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