Choke on this, thanks

 

 

I’m supposed to stop killing people and well this

makes me sad but teachers can be incomprehensible at times, I know he means well and I am listening but as usual won’t give no instructions so had to figure it all out solo.

 

Ok I need to turn into a real writer so I can roll

a bunch of individuals into one big upsetter, fictionalize, stop naming names, so to speak,

it’s no good to rattle you individuals with your own  unique and horrific reflection, so I need to compile, composite, whatever, this is what mature, adult writers do, writers, especially women writers have an extra consciousness that you ass-holes better approach with caution, if I’m gonna take

on the burden of respecting  the damage I can inflict.

Happy days, huh. I was developing just fine I thought, bad, like Jesse James, now I’m supposed

to be bad like the Fonz.

 

So if I become a serious writer like so many of my decent, hard-working self-publishing friends who write stories I never ever see myself in (ha ha) everything good and true and nice in the world will continue movin forward before I hit town. Then when you read about thieving wreckers you may see yourself in him/her but it’s all so hazy, vague and  oh, hi mom, is that dad you’re channeling?

We can all cringe at these unbelievably ludicrous characters, their inability to bust out of their sociopathology and learn a single pre-school lesson, I wouldn’t want my daughter marrying one, then we can be John Cheever and swim to Czechoslovakia, again, and everything is groovy and spiritual and nice, life is short and basically perfect, everyone lives and no one ever dies but they do get to call me a hack, very threatening huh rock critics?

 

 

Love on ya,

Trouble

 

 

 

 

 

 

Home.

 

 

 

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