That no student attends. A little more awake, now. Was dying while the students were engaged in their exams. First thing when home, into the literary cellar. Enough of this procrastination. See what varietals, genre blends, craziness I bump into.
Writing a lot of poetry. A lot. Manuscript idea: ‘Poems, Entries, Responses’. Can’t afford to spend years on a novel and not do anything else, not now. Write and release, as the hardest working author in the world. I don’t want to be the richest, necessarily. Definitely don’t want to be the most “famous.” I simply want to be acknowledged and respected for my ethic.
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