Muse

What Motherfucker Hell Is This?!

I’ve found inspiration. A lot of it. Too much of it? The crazy bits of it. Tiny little fire in the pit of my rock full of guts or something cynical that I wrote … Ideas. So many fucking ideas. I have so many ideas floating around. They aren’t really anything tangible yet. I mean I have project after project. But soon, there will be a new project. A bigger project. One that will probably rip the remaining assumption of sanity from my eyes like a toddler through a smash cake. But worth it.

First: Still, thank you Chris. And a new shout out to Adrian “Lobo” Figueroa . You two, Seriously… Thank you.

Second: Shout out to my Baby Sis and Heathenous Beaverhousen … You two, you know what that’s for.

Third: HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS BATMAN! This is ridiculous! But Exciting? I’ll say one thing, and not many people will know what this means… But! Quinn.

Give me two months for the final draft of Death of a Creative Soul to be finished and in print. And then I’ll jump up on the internet, like a fleshling at a brothel, and show you some of the goods. Just enough. And then hold out my grubby little hand for some of your hard earned cash and judgement.

A Thank You To A Muse

I was trying to figure out where to go with a story I was writing. You know how things go: Life changes. Stories need to shift gear. Alliances fade away ( or violently explode in an eruption of miscommunication and buried hatred). So you’re left with some aftermath and some writing that needs a little kick in the ass. Enter Chris, the Muse.

Thanks to Senior Muse, I can channel all of the lovely rage, self-deprecation and irritation behind this oddly, destructive body into something angry, devoted, irritated and ¬†punishable by self-loathing and relief. If you think I’m playing the pity card here, you’re a fucking idiot. I like having some weird, explosivitiy in my life. Anger is good for you sometimes.

(I don’t own this – Starz owns this. Neil Gaiman owns this. American Gods just resonates)

Just like having 3 different voices in your head, one of which is batshit crazy and likes to pick fights with everything that moves. She may also be missing an eye, but I haven’t had the opportunity to look at her face long enough before taking a baseball bat to mine.

Anyway! Thanks Chris! I know where to take this story, and it’s been surprisingly therapeutic. I mean I’m only like… 2 pages in, but it’s kinda nice to have those two pages and know where the story’s going. So I owe you, sir. I owe you quite a bit. As do some of the characters who would have otherwise been sent to the land of hellacious, story-time, purgatory for the rest of their underdeveloped lives.

They thank you too, as well, Chris (<– Bad grammar is just hilarious)

(I don’t own this either – Volbeat does. This is not mine. This is theirs.)

 

P.S: Still working on editing the original babies. Don’t worry. They aren’t going to collect dust. I know a Lil Sis, Big Bro, Mumsy and fellow Heathen that would kick my ass if I let that happen. Plus the Doc, Randall and the Creeper in the trees. It’s coming. Hopefully by Summer 2018. Shhhh.