[I don't even know what "heady" means. Seriously.]

Let's not get into specifics. Suffice it to say that--remember the short story I promised earlier?--the story is growing and growing. It's not ready for at least a week, and even then I would want to give it another week before editing (and, burdened as I am with an obsessive perfectionism, another week after that to edit my edits, etc.) Ah, the heady task of revision.

I'm working on something Melville-ian (no, not that.) Hence the floral prose. But enough of all this. I'm gonna pull something from the archives here shortly, so as not to disappoint (and so as to avoid being perceived as a poetry blog.) Stay tuned!

edit: I'm preparing something I cranked out last night. Another piece of "sad boy" fiction! I'm gonna have to work on breaking that trend. More fiction for you. More unforgiving introspection for me. Hell. You bastards.

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