As of this moment no one has read this blog. No one. Not even me, my wife or my mother. Admittedly the competition is massive and unknown. There exists around six million blogs ranging from how to find a perfect cookie recipe to why George Bush is a fag, or Obama is a fag, or Jesus is a fag, or Jihadist are all fags. Maybe, in the blogosphere, everyone’s a fag. Be they cigarette or offended homosexual. Hard to tell. But we can agree there are millions of these little pages with millions of little people typing with their million to the tenth power fingers. A universal blah, blah, blah.

So, I’m doing a change-up. I’m not going to worry if no one notices or if no one cares. I’m just going to write. Fiction. Fiction is the liar’s way of making an honest living. You can quote me on that when I”m famous, or dead, or both. I will post fiction, write about the writing process, link (maybe?) to pages about writing and attempt in my sad, histrionic ramblings to inspire myself. Not you. Get your own damn muse, find your own guru…mine are busy. Sorry. No glot, c’lom Friday.

If you write because you can’t avoid it. If writing or reading or creating anything is the bane of your normal existence. If every time some well-intentioned but unsuspecting person asks, “What do you really want to DOOOOOOOOOO with your LIFE?” And nearly every honest, real answer involves being alone, creating something others may never like or ‘get’, and allowing yourself to gravitate towards it like a junky eye-fucking a needle…well…you and I might just get along fine.

As always,

John.

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