I think I fried the circuit that does the whole “troubadour” biz for the time being. Stay tuned, as it will probably make a comeback at some point, knowing me. I always seem to find room for high fantasy in my noggin and my feet like to grow wings and leave the solid ground more often than they should. That, and I have this fixation on trying to capture basic horny predilections in flowery language that either doesn’t quite work, no one understands, or no one wants to understand.

I’m also considering narrowing my focus to just poetry for a while and leave off the commentary that echos around the largely empty cavity where most folks keep their brain. Maybe some flash- or micro-fiction. I’m feeling moody right about now, so I can’t say if that suits my inclinations or not. Autobiographic stuff, however, is sun-setting for the time being, until I decide if there is an audience enough to support it. It feels like a one-way exchange at the mo’ and, while I’m known for oversharing without much prompting, I don’t want to be the only one jumping off bridges.

You haven’t escaped the multiple posts, sorry. As I said yesterday in some of my final comments, I write to keep the blue meanies at bay. I guess I don’t necessarily have to share my writing, but I’m used to doing it this way now, and so it goes.

Happy holidays, however you celebrate them and whichever ones you celebrate. Too many to list here.

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