What I did was I checked my email and my old friend who is an old kind of hippie artist and a guy who introduced me to an actual beat poet one time when I was in the D, well this friend said that I was, “BEING OLD MAN RIVER WITH A STICK UP HIS ASS.”
…and so just as he said, I’m going to try to…
“CHEER UP DON’T BE SUCH A LOATHING WRITER MAN.”
And he’s right. People are always right and I’m always wrong, and I’m being dumb and sad for no reason, because I can write where I’m going, and I can write where they’re going, and all I have to do is well… I just have to regain my focus my words my tongue my ghosts and everything that’s buried somewhere inside of my vocabulary that can slow down and get me in the doors like a reporter at a low down and dark get down kinda scene that he kinda just kinda hopes will go bad go sour go south and get kinda bloody just for some spark.
The crazy pal said,
Adventures In American Writing 