the writing jones is there, still unfulfilled for now
It had been about a week since he’d managed to shed the habit, and he was starting to think he might be clear of it, might be done.
But the insistent call of the nonsense sang at him. There were discordant voices everywhere he turned; most of them insisted that he speak for them; indeed so many of them would insist that he speak for them that he could never full grasp what it was that they wanted him to speak about for them. It was tragic, annoying, occasionally inspiring.
- finite
This is like a week plus with no new stuff, and I know so many of you have been clamoring for the next adventure.
I have this to say, sit tight kids, and keep checking back, or get on the feeds, because we’ve got something ridiculous up our sleeves.
Well, theoretically at least. I mean, there is always the possibility right?
HaHa . . .
imma blame the writing hiatus on the fact whut that i’m raising kittens