Twisted Treatises

Despite the title I assure you; we're here for very serious business. I've been in a bit of a literary struggle lately. Not for fiction, that's moving at the pace it usually does...I got to get away from the addict writing for a bit. But there's so much to tell its like I can't.  So much in my memory banks is taken up by the addict life. I think let's do a literary exercise on trees and how they make you feel or even try to paint the imagoes you have of other's lives into new life on paper, or think back to a time before the drugs (not that there is much). Write about family. Write a fucking dinner conversation containing mild catharsis-- I've seen those in print. I've tried...but unless someone is getting fucked or punched or high (preferably all three), that's goddamn boring shit. It's boring to write, it's boring to read, it's boring to edit. I'm sure that's how many editors feel about addict writing, verse and converse are...

I haven't done written a treatise in some time. A little over a month, to be exact. Funny, I thought it was longer ago than that. Why did I stop? I felt like I was putting too much energy into toxic shit on behalf of interesting writing... which is kind of what you're supposed to do if you're writing pulp, bizarro, horror, etc., but I (at least) needed a break. Politics currently makes me want to puke and I felt like I was going to lose good friends over my writings on the subject. That's not worth a fuck to me. And before you hit me with that business about what real friends do and don't do please understand that folks kill each other over politics--I don't see that I,  as a true friemd, should blame them if they told me to fuck off on that account. If that seems weird to you, well, I'm a weird guy... what can I say? You don't have to adapt it.  Since I don't want to write about the shitty shit, I thought I'd talk a bit about friggin' leg da...