Oh, I can't just write books, you say? I need to market myself, do I? Like I'm a hydrogenated snack unit, here to feedertain you? Well, fine, then, I'll quit throwing myself into traffic like a sensible person*, settle down, and waste good novel writing time TO DITHER ON A GODDAMN BLOG. *Ambiguity intentional
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
FEEL THAT?
Do ya FEEL it? I think, higher up, even they can hear it grind: it's the wheel of history, crushing the peasants again. You whined and whined when it crushed your dreams, but the fun's only beginning: wait till it crushes your bones! Ha ha! One likes to tell oneself that at least the wheel will feel sorry when it notices that now there are things it wants to get done, and there aren't any peasants to do it anymore, but SINCE YOU FUCKING MORONS KEEP POURING MORE BABIES INTO THE NIGHTMARE, it ain't ever going to learn its lesson. Not that, lacking a central nervous system, it could have done so anyway. HA HA HA HA HAH HAHAHAHHAHAAHH!
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I've been crushed by life (having been born and raised in Detroit) many times. Bones, dreams, everything. No big deal. We're cockroaches. You just keep surviving.
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