It's one of these posts, man. Or one of those posts. I can't decide. I guess it doesn't matter. Who cares?! Ha, ha, ha!
I don't care.
Anyway ... I got nothing to say. Maybe I should do a PR email. I don't feel like it though.
There's an endless stream of PR emails. WHY?!
Oh, oh. I'm not with the Owlman yet. I don't know why. I don't know what's happening. But I'm not in paradise.
I live my life in the city ...
Obviously, it's my dream and my nightmare to only do PR emails, to stop these sort of posts, but I don't know ... you know?
When will I stop??? I've got no control.
My fingers on the laptop, they do what they want ... where is my brain???
Listen. I've still only got nine poems, son. Daughter. I'm not too bothered about it, but I really need thirty by next March. What are the chances? The good news is, I have five or six important poems. The others that I write could be trash ... but they won't be. I've got to keep high standards ... for all kinds of reasons.
I will!
Anyway ... forget about fresh starts. I'm not going to forget, but you forget. You, you. Forget I ever mentioned them, but I will remember because they still make sense if you can do them.
I can't do them, but ...
However, however, the chaos of life ... is a big problem, you dig? What can be done about the chaos of life? The kook with the best answer will get a Jammie Dodger in their dreams, personally delivered by me in my astral form.
'Nice one!'
Sometimes I don't want to write. But words won't stop.
And I know why. It feels like a curse. But it's a blessing.
Listen to me. The cosmos is very clever. My circumstances over the years, man. The cosmos knew I wouldn't write much ... of my own free will, like. So it forced me to put millions of words into this blog, over four million with the repetition obviously. Oh, the cosmos knew just like Mr Miyagi that I would need all that word experience by the time the ghost of Yeats would make his appearance. Now, when my astrologer did that healing ceremony for me in his home temple, I'm just guessing now ... he had a word with the cosmos, something like: "The fool wants to do music, but by 54 ... he must be ready for the ghost! Do something!" And so I was forced to write this blog, forced!!! And that's why on a day like today when I really really don't want to write hence the roughness with hardly any editing you and I we you and I the writer and the reader get this, yes, this is what we get.
We get this!!!
When all I want is ... peace and quiet.
Silence!
ENDS
ENDS
ENDS
ENDS
ENDS
ENDS
ENDS
ENDS
ENDS
