Since the divorce and up until twenty minutes ago, I wrote nothing but fiction. Some of it will come out later this year.
The hours at work grow longer. I feel beat, like Tina Turner. I will be in Indianapolis for three weeks starting August 16 on business, not getting bizay. This is a good time for hotel living.
Safety Third Enterprises is gearing up for the launch of The Serial Rapist Sitting Behind You Is A Robot. PANK, being the rolldogs they are, shouted it out here.
Next week is the National Poetry Slam in St. Paul. I will only miss it a little. It will not miss me at all.
My love life: none. Writing is my new wife and she still doesn’t do the dishes, me.
