I have so much poetry to wade through. This second book is coming out way later than I originally anticipated. I thought freedom of speech meant you could write anything you want and self-publish. The metaphysical space of things that are acceptable is smaller than the space of things that are unacceptable. I’ve thought it through. Meaning: I need to edit my work or else Amazon won’t accept it. Also I will get a bad reputation as an author. Also my family will make my life a living nightmare. Also I will have paranoia about the government police state secret service on my ass. The usual. Oh just the usual, y’know. :)
Also I have a hunch my best friend won’t want to be speaking to me ever again for the whole rest of his life. Like I lost him finito period that’s it and he’s just cleaning up out of obligation but if so only police state legal.
So I guess I should just think this way and leave him be. Stop treating him like a friend. Because he knows and I know he knows that I fucking threatened him on his life when I was out of my mind and again on the internet anonymously and that our relationship is just too chaotic and unsafe to even be legitimately extant anymore. It doesn’t make sense. It’s over.
Also I’m going to write in complete sentences on my blog from now on, not in poetic stanzas. Cool, huh? Hard habit to break out of, though…
Paragraphs still exist, though.
I need to regain some good writing habits. I’ve gotten soooooooooooooo lazy. Wowza.