And that’s what I am, a bloody working man, and I have to believe that I’m working for something, I mean, why else would I do it?
And usually I forget about my born-with intuition of surrendering to the times and the life of being a writer, but sometimes I have to shut down the tap…tap…tap.
But never do I. Hell no I don’t; I don’t forget for too damn long. I just get some eyes closed, the Z.Z.Z, and this is what I call getting some r and r and some rich and rare, some whiskey and then some sleep, some love, some sex, some hate, some drugs and the legal kind…WINK. Some booze, some fast food, some dreams and some short lived forms of death…ALRIGHT I’m AWAKE, and then I’m off, back out there, trying to find the story, trying to find the nasty and dirty, the times man, trying to find what’s going down, and come on you know what I’m throwing out there. I’m trying to find what exactly we’re about. You sure as hell can’t find it on television. That’s the shit.