It's been nearly two years? And for all of you who could give a fuck-less:
Yes! I'm still alive. Now continue not giving a shit.
To all of you who might actually care, after a period in 2010 I call my "little vacation" to a certain floor in a certain hospital, I was faced with chronic writer's block, to the point that I thought I might not ever imagine again. Anyone who knows me knows my imagination is my greatest (and only true possession). I had no moment to mourn my loss. I was in a completely different head space. I had had the bandages unfurled from around my broken skull, a mirror handed to me, and to my horror the woman staring back at me had by all accounts and despite her best efforts been...
DOMESTICATED.
I was a poet no more.
But I would do my former self a great disservice if I didn't share with her audience her last thoughts.
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