What now? And this is what I said…
For some reason I Knew I was supposed to get out of the house today. I was looking for a nice old stove top coffee metal tin maker but didn’t find that. Words done and feeling tired. The snow coming down and something was calling my name, and after what happened to baby blue and the horrific patio incident, in where someone decided to give themselves a five finger thievery (alley people I bet still) I’ve been hunting on a bus boy salary. One thing I’ve learned is good things happen to writers when they’re not in the town on a lake, and I have a few workman-like heavy duty electronic typewriters, but it’s not the same. I’m more of a folk singer than a grunge rocker. I prefer the acoustics of the tap tap tap when not plugged in. This new Remington Quiet-Riter (works great too) I found it for fifteen dollars at the rehab thrift store. I was asked “what you going to do with that?” “Write a damn book lady.” Once again, All is good and that means something not so good is about to happen. Whatever. Bring it. Karma is a river that’s made out of ink. I already wrote the story. I just have to retrace my steps. (no. I have no clue what that means…lol.)
Adventures In American Writing 