Hunger

I Don’t Want to Talk About It

It has surely been longer than a couple of months, no?  I have gotten into the practice of privacy with my writing and have thus left the public/published sphere.  I have learnt much about myself and others during this “gathering period,” as a friend once put it.  I will not make a list.  Lists are never complete and the perverse perfectionist in me would rather do nothing than do a half-assed job.  A few of the things I’ve done have not been good.  Others have been clearly beneficial.  I quit smoking and I am still unsure into which category this should fall.  I have written a whole lot and I will be drawing from these journal entries and attempted poems.

The picture up top there is of me.  I’m a bicycle mechanic.  It’s really really fun and the only way I can afford to get new bikes and parts and keep up with the massive amount of product and technology information that exists out there but I keep thinking that I should move to New York, farm at a co-op for housing and write for VICE or ADBUSTERS or another magazine that trademarks their name in all caps (as though their work wouldn’t stand on its own anyway) as a full-time job.  Or maybe I could teach English or Writing.  I don’t know.  I’d like to try something out on my own.  I don’t have too much to lose.  I’d rather sell it than lose it but I’m not picky.  Easy come, easy go as they say.  The other idea I had was to get a bike and just start to ride south until the land ran out.  Northeast or South or goddammit anywhere but here.  We shall see.  Until then, enjoy or endure the next few weeks of linguistic cannon fodder.

Thanks for reading!

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This entry was published on July 27, 2012 at 21:19 and is filed under Prose. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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