So, I have written hundreds of blog posts now, on so many topics. I have covered personal things, and funny things, and political things—sometimes it’s been a little random, honestly.
But today, as I type this out, I am not sure what I want to talk about in this post. I’m sure I could write about a bunch of things. I’ve been rather busy; no shortage of updates regarding my life. Continue reading
Hey everyone, sorry about how the articles have been lately. I’ve been posting a lot of poems and not a lot of big stuff—and I feel bad about that.
But the reason is really cool, so bear with me as I make my excuses.
I’ve been busy doing my author stuff. I’ve been learning to advertise and market—and seeing some profit from it. Continue reading
Liked to eat sticks,
And then spit out the leaves.
He did this each day, Continue reading
This poem is bad,
And you should not read it,
This poem is bad,
And is not worth your time,
Oddly, now it did not seem,
Like I was waking from a dream,
I seemed to know upon open eye,
That I had slept multiple hours,
Had in his head a hole,
And his friends would play with his brain.
And yes, it could hurt when in his skull it did roll,
Noise level notwithstanding, I’ve learned to love the feel of a good mechanical keyboard. I was, until recently, one for laptops as my main way of writing—as my main way of working, actually. But a recent upgrade has made me see the appeal.
Despite being one for artistic expression,
I am fond of systems,
Especially ones I design.
I can spend hours looking over information,
A spice upon the table,
Sitting where it be,
A taste of it will show you,
Where you’re meant to flee,
I was a voracious reader growing up. I still am, but it has nothing on how fast I chewed through story after story when I was a kid. I would go to the library and easily fill a bag with twenty books, then finish three or four within a day or two.
And lately, I’ve reread some books from back then. The pulpy fun novels that got me into the stories I now write myself.
Avoid the sun if you can,
It will bake us all if it could,
It beams down from on-high,
And slicks the sweat across our skin.
It started with his hair,
To knives and edges,
To blades. Continue reading
Big things in space,
I don’t know why these things are interesting to me— Continue reading
For some reason,
I did not look to find,
We use the word count,
To define, Continue reading
Atop the cranium, it sits,
Thinking briskly of its life,
And what it might be there to do.
Surely, yes, some bald people are grateful, Continue reading