I was actually really set to record some music that I thought would be decent. But then I got muscle spasms/cramps in my arms because I am a girly man and will never be governer of California. So instead I did a shitty guitar jam with my crampy arms and then had a go at Jack Bickham’s 38 Common Fiction Writing Mistakes.
Interestingly enough as I was clicking around my tabs this article showed up:
I haven’t read it yet but I’m fairly certain from the volumes in my ex-girlfriends house that Walt Whitman is the cunt who wrote Blades of Grass and punched his editors. I was going to invoke him as the sort of person who wouldn’t give a damn about 38 most common anythings. But temper it by saying O come on, you can’t just shit out whatever you want…
And then I shat out whatever I wanted.
So hail Bacchus and Hail Whitman.
Cheers!
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