what a strange life indeed. a film noir journey through the twisted labyrinths of man's heart. outside the jackyls hackle to the rising moon and some familiar feeling is pushing up inside me, like a wearwolf nature. i roam, i die to live on flesh and scent and taste with such sensual delight, i might just never come back.
but then i hear a little cough, my little ones sleeping through the night, strong bodies fighting colds. they sleep facing each other on our huge bed, and tonight they are my companions and i will never be happier than this.
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Hi,
ReplyDeleteI left a comment on your blog last April, and although you have not posted many times since then, I am still as impressed with your writing as I was then. I realize that your "about me" profile blurb isn't meant to be deep , but I can't help but suspect that your line about enjoying the essay writing more than the program had more than a bit of truth to it.
Have you considered writing fiction, and if not, is there any way you could be persuaded to do so? I write a blog about accessing creativity - if you're interested, stop by, and if you feel my ideas have anything to say to you, drop me a line and maybe we can discuss some strategies.
Good luck, Bob
artquest1.blogspot.com