Mee Mee paddled around on Saturday, the water is very very cold, bluebird and well Flat
i like this chart ~ but i am not eating any of these fish, any time during the week, and certainly not more than once, yucky
this conifer make some huge cones, full of spiders
so this is my life,
and this is the problem~
this dilemma i've faced now for the passed three months is one of habitation, in my case my self imposed exile to an alien world, within my own thoughts, every morning i wake at four, and scheme, take notes, jot down scenes and random nonsense about this science fiction world i have been trying to build
because everyone knows that to write a real world novel, requires a man to build a real life tangible world on paper, but the rub, is that it must be complete and flawlessly self contained, in the case of s-f, the action and interactions have to span galaxies and myriad worlds and beings, unlike blase novel writing, where the world is already built, you can live in it, you can see it, you can use other peoples stories as your own, within the realm of space opera, and s-f you must be alien, off, distant,unknown and strange and yet, you must retain some human connection, be readable and try not to be dismissed instantly as a fucking hack~
regular people will not read this shit, regular people want to inhabit life~
this is the hardest thing i have ever done, because i have to live this silly haunted house blognov every second I'm alive, and to make it worse I'm trying to simplify it, down to the very bones of poetry~
to write this thing as a s-f poem, if it can be done,
i am only on chapter 7, have written eight and nine
now you know where i am, you don't have to care, i just want you to know
this distance is the distance of creation
and nobody has to give a shit and really I'm not asking~ i just deliver what i can, whatever this is
thnx
N~
and yes, turn your computer 90 degrees, kay ?
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