Ghee mother of Mary I am going through so much change at the moment, I can hardly contain myself. Contain myself from what would be the valid question to ask. I will let you guys know when I see it. I edited the first draft of my Novel, some scary shize in there. I freak myself out, when I get to the gory bits I actually stop and say did I write that... awesome stuff... Then decided to digest my poetry and my short stories, will putt the edited versions on my blog so that I can get some feedback. I sure do need it. Enough talk about being a writer, the day is now. Then some random thing that has bothered me for ages now. The road that leads me to hell... some of us call it work... is a shelter that a street guy made for himself.
He even made wind chimes from cardboard that he has erected between two trees. His own outside mansion, now what tickles me pink is that every single morning I pass him and he sits writing something in a book. I have contemplated stopping and asking him for a peek. My fear that he might be insane and hack me to death, is the typical stereotype behaviour one shall expect from a office suite that keeps me away. Yes boohooo cry me a river, that's what I have become. Bow head in shame! So who think they know what he is writing? I am working on the boring suite stereotype pain in the lower butt area I have become. I got another tattoo! Yay!
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