Friggin' Leg Day




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 day. I'm trying to put everything I can do now into one hardcore leg day that I'll do 3x a week--considering I can ride the 12 miles I need to get to town and back now but am not worth a fuck for the day--and a bit of the following day--if I combine everything i should be deliciously fucked. Like triathlete fucked. Which is what I want. My life takes a great deal of physical strength to endure. It always has. I keep it light--jobs I can get required you to FUCKING WORK, we're talking restaurants and factories here. That's 12-16 hr days maybe 7 days a week--there's content creation--if I want to make, say, music videos I'll have to get to places... and the desert is absolutely not a bad place to get good content if you can get it to speak to you.

Some ass don't know me gonna be like why you so weak Rob like why you can't bike--OK it's because I had surgery. 

*experimental sentence* 




And the titanium implant that is now my hip,and the spike in my femur, that and the titanium wrap around my femur demand that I both hydrate and stretch and don't gain extra weight whether I like it the-fuck or not-- it's half and half, there are days for both--if I don't do so this shit my feet try to make fists and I have to hold my toes ripped apart for like 20 minutes to get it to stop... this is not me bragging. Bragging presupposes that I don't really have to do this, that it's just for superfluous gain of some sort, but I do. 

I'm also exercising the writing legs. In this month I've been gone I have--

Gotten a much wanted acceptance letter, waiting on the contract which should come tomorrow-- I'll mention it on my page after I get it. It's for an addict awareness anthology-- I'm down to be in as many of those as I can get in. 

Almost finished the first draft of the novel query-- this involves a lot more than I thought it did, much more than any book on querying will *usually* tell you.

Finished and sent a poetry packet to Black Coffee Review. It'd be nice to get in that magazine.

Finished and sent flash to a few places. I haven't really tried messing with flash. I'm going to begin doing that and see how I do. 

Finished a ballsy literary street story about a thing that happened which... it's kind of harsh so it may take doing to find out a home...I can hope. 

Was published on the Don Kingfisher Campbell poetry forum, which was pretty cool.

Got published by The Perch which rocks. Another addict awareness anthology, pretty happy about that. 

And I've had some... honestly, kind of petty, stupid asf shit happen to me but I'm too good to expand on that. I will say if there's a sudden smear on me I'm going to know exactly where it came from and me being me... let's just say I know how to cover my ass too, buddy.

And I guess that's it. The whole thing's kind of thing leg workout, isn't it? Mental legs, emotional legs, the legs attached to feet, thoughts that walk around...weird shit. Told you. I'm a weird guy.

Oh.

There's something I'd also really like to rewrite. It isn't called PARLarity but close, and when the person I want to read that reads it he might take a second and look through his email

...but if he doesn't, I won't be mad. Poor bastard is going through 17 hells.

I just wanted to call you Parl in front of everyone. 

I barely talked about my legs at all. Oh well. I had a leg day today and I'm tired as hell. So happy friggin' leg day to me.








Air humps and talking to Crys. That sounds really bad but it isn't, and I promise she knew what I was doing. 

That sounds eerie, and it's supposed to. 

Thanks for reading, guys.
I'll try to keep up with these again. 

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