Raw Dogging My Pen (Which Sounds Exactly As Bad As It Should)

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 always par for the course. It becomes, eh, anti-climactic... it's about as anti-climactic as recidivism... but I digress. 

I need to blog more often. Mostly because you guys actually read these things--I don't want to let even a few readers down. That's kind of not the point. 

Let's switch gears for a minute. What sort of dumb shit is on the news? Trump's Final Dickwave (I hope), looks like. Either that or the blood is about to begin. I sure hope the people out there who want blood know what they're in for. I've had it and I still say I don't think any of you want it or know what you're asking for...but maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you fuckin' LOVE it. There's every chance you're going to get it at least vicariously. Unless the Accelerationists on both sides have their way. Then you'll get it for real. Take that with a heavy heart or a hard-on, any color you like. 

Rare photo of Donald J Trump discussing his penis

And William Shatner here on Columbo just heard his homeboy get shot over the phone. Even though he's dressed up like Timothy Hutton as Thad Beaumont in The Dark Half, he still sounds like he's going after the Klingons. It's what makes him great. It's his motif, or one of them. 

I had someone say I had motifs. I thought about that. Do i want those to happen purposefully too often aside from where setting is concerned? I'm going to write about the desert. After all, I've lived there. I'm going to write about the city for the same reason and that's just it--unless I'm writing pure fiction... 

Check that. 

Dogs got more toys than most kids ffs

Even when I'm writing fiction, I kind of have to have lived something of it. That doesn't mean that the protagonist is Rob, it means that false observations are to me exactly that--fucking phony-- and I can't do it. I can't. I guess that's why I'm locked in to writing addict shit. And this might be a handicap. We'll see. It's hard to say because nothing I've published puts me into a niche. I have a story about a demonic coworker, about a hobo-hunting reptile, getting over dope, about feeling like street royalty on account of your habit, and a story about a disgraced cop becone drug dealer who would be a PI instead and makes his move based (mostly) on that all published and floating in the world. Also a story about a crazy guy fucking a rat. See? There's no niche. Anyone who read my body of work (torso that it is) wouldn't know where to place me. I've been invited to bizarro and been published in one magazine of some erudtion, and also in jus' folks poetry blogs. There's no niche. The motifs are in all of them, though. We got dope, we got the trailer park, we got dealers, we got deserts, we got a bit of southern Gothic. And street urchins--I have no interest in writing about yuppie shit because I don't fucking know anything about being one of those. I never have. I used to run dope to them, that's about it. And it wasn't mine, eh? Here's your shit gimme the cash I ride away and pay the man on his behalf for a three point bag. Lots of yuppies buy...I know that. 

They are going to happen whether or not I want them to. It doesn't matter as much what I want when it comes to what I write. I want it to, but it never does. I sit down to write what I want to write and rarely get what I want. Indifference is a good key. It now occurrs to me I'll want to write about digging out pathologies as one moved through various social orders--or meets people if you don't want to be fancy about it. So that's one thing I can begin taking notes about if I'm going to take notes. You been here long enough. Take off. 

Thanks again for being here, friends.