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I am having the wackiest, transcendental writing experience right now, so I just had to take a breather or get bursted into flames or my fingers might break off or something. I swear to God writing can be such the sweet, sweet crack sometimes, so good I'd rather do it than do my boyfriend (sick, I know. sick.)
And then sometimes it can suck ass like a Hoover mega ultra-vac. One of those big, green ones with the spinning hurricane in the middle so you can see the suckage in action.
But, right now? The crack pipe. Why did I get this? Four years ago I had no idea I could even do this—what was I smoking then?
How come I was thirty-six fucking years old before I figured out I can do this THING, this amazingly big THING that changes everything in the world of my head?
And the most beautiful part? Even when it sucks, it's good. And unless I am horribly mutilated in a freak bowling accident, no one can ever take this away from me. Well, the muse can go away, it's true. The desire to write can just phwooot! like the wind. But it has always come back so far, and I'm starting to trust it always will.
Anyway, all of the above is by way of apology that I haven't had a chance to respond to all the lovely comments I got on Oblivious (you people are just so goddamned generous I wanta bust into tears or something) and I am truly sorry and will do so tomorrow, but right now I'm wacky on the pipe.
~peacelove~
And then sometimes it can suck ass like a Hoover mega ultra-vac. One of those big, green ones with the spinning hurricane in the middle so you can see the suckage in action.
But, right now? The crack pipe. Why did I get this? Four years ago I had no idea I could even do this—what was I smoking then?
How come I was thirty-six fucking years old before I figured out I can do this THING, this amazingly big THING that changes everything in the world of my head?
And the most beautiful part? Even when it sucks, it's good. And unless I am horribly mutilated in a freak bowling accident, no one can ever take this away from me. Well, the muse can go away, it's true. The desire to write can just phwooot! like the wind. But it has always come back so far, and I'm starting to trust it always will.
Anyway, all of the above is by way of apology that I haven't had a chance to respond to all the lovely comments I got on Oblivious (you people are just so goddamned generous I wanta bust into tears or something) and I am truly sorry and will do so tomorrow, but right now I'm wacky on the pipe.
~peacelove~
