THE SECOND DRINK IS ALWAYS BETTER (# 74,996)
it relaxes the control gland. It stops the cognitive gate yelling “hang on buster, where’s your ID.” It just lets the raw untreated matter finds its way. As each cell up top submits, the soul exerts its force upon all that lurks within. And boy does it belch. And dribble. And spewm. Harold Pinter died yesterday and to him I raise the second dark and stormy short.
December 26, 2008
Filed Under Writing on writing
Filed Under Writing on writing
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Write and write more. Write against those who ask why. Write while life allows you to. Write to express the endless nonsense and brilliance of man. Write to acknowledge moments that are otherwise lost. In your words, write thisness with isness.