currently writing black comedy-fiction-nonfiction

I know this is a bit, “late to the party,” but I went back to work this week. Not just the 9-5 but putting in time on another short horror story. However, since January the 6th was yesterday, I was hoping someone could splice video of last year’s failed coup and footage from a Murder Junkies’ show.

If anyone has the time.

It’s a tough call but idk if I’d stick around after GG dropped trou.

But. I might be willing to take my chances with Mr. Allin versus the so called patriots. If only because the music would be better. Hands down.

And, I can see the parallels between the two. A bunch of dudes with facial hair throwing hands while they smear caca everywhere.

Except that at the insurrection there was probably alot of Kenny Chesney, pledge allegiance to the flag, Jesus Christ and bald eagle horse shit country music being played. Remember when country music was good? When it was about getting drunk , shooting cocaine and waking up in jail kinda music?

I’m 95% sure that’s a ghost. Some kind of fire enamored entity. Something.

Yet, truthfully, I’m not positive that I’ve seen a ghost or been part of any kind of supernatural memory loop. But, like Mulder said, “I believe.”

Sorry for dropping my drama bomb 😝

I’d like to believe there are other worldly things out there. When I was a kid my aunt took me to some railroad tracks in San Antonio, that supposedly, if you put powder on the bumper of your car and turned the engine off, the kids who died in a horrible bus/train accident would push your car off the tracks. We did. And I swear I felt the car get pushed and after I swear I saw handprints.

Whatever.

So Halloween came and went and I still lack publication and payment for my words. And I’m tired like Rimbaud ditching poetry by the age of 19. Except I’m old. I’m guessing he felt that way too.

Recently, I needed some perspective on what I needed to change in order to get better. Trick question tho. I have an irredeemable depression. Jokes on me. Guess it’s better held up with me than spread around, infesting others.

And if you’re that poltergeist that thinks they can retrap me with nostalgia? Give me a call. I’m sure this time we’ll move forward with openness, understanding, and a well balanced, interpersonal relationship.

Guess we all have ghosts? Mine just prefer emails over a child’s ouija