I’ve missed a week – oh shxx, more – of blogging, and if I’m now a self-described blogger (as a bio I’ve just sent out says), I’d better be doing this every freaking day. So that’s been the the life-long challenge. I stare at Hemingway’s “Write drunk; edit sober.” poster every fxxking day and respond by blah-blah quoting it and turning the freaking brilliant guidance into inspirational bullshit. I write stone-cold sober every day, because as someone recently noted about himself, “I’ve been under-drinking for years.”
I usually sit here like earnest Marian the librarian (most of you millenials don’t know who the fxxk she is), trying to turn out a fully-thought-out thought, processed, edited, and laid out on a freaking platter for you to admire. Go to www.valjoy.com. It’s so fxxking joyous and inspirational, it can’t be all that is me. So fxxk that.
It’s time to let the dogs out or the cat out of the bag…whatever. Cliches and cuss words (how quaint that I call them that). That’s all you’re fxxking getting today. If I persist in the not-writing-drunk bollocks (my new favorite word), I have no fxxking thing to edit, sober or not. Then I feel like shxx. At least if I drank, I might get drunk enough to fxxking write a damn post every day.
So this is me writing drunk. A great big Piss Off is stuck in my fxxking liver meridian (where we store anger by the way), and I’m running with it. Forget about trying to find the right fxxking words from all that I know or don’t. Never mind if there’s a fxxking point here. Use fxxking and freaking as many times in this post as I fxxking feel like, and hit the fxxking Publish button whether this is ready for prime time or not.
Fighting for Happiness 