I like to imagine that one day, this image will be reviled and revered as a silent moment where the brutal dictator that ordered mass executions was caught, unawares and all too human.
Holy Goddamn, my boy is six.
Still lets me put pitchers uh her on da internets.
It's a derpy derp world.
I've been a little vague on the personal front lately with all the goddamn comics (more of which are to come and to bore you with facebook linkage) but shit has been busy. Like a motherfucker. Did I tell all y'all that I got into the MFA for creative writing program and now I have to do things like think critically about literature and read things and write things that people will critique and that I'll cry about? Cause all that shit happened.
Insane. Writers. People who write down words, sentences, lies upon lies upon falsehoods that build up into novels and then we all buy it and hate it because it cuts too close to home. How do you know a book is good? No one has an answer to that, because none of them are. If people were a little more self aware and reflective upon their shitty condition, the world wouldn't see a need for novelists. If we could look shit in the face and tell it we love it because it is us, there'd be no space for 'em.
Lately I've taken to a more Southern bent to my speaking. Hell if I know about any a that mess.
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