Gospel 103 ~Grief Tastes Like The Ocean~

I’ve been trying to drink two bottles of water a day, which still ain’t much but it beats turning all Kel Mitchell with orange soda. I actually like root beer and root beer floats, yum. “Grief Tastes Like The Ocean,” but I’m not sad, yet…

Monday, October 12, 2020

Gospel 103 ~Grief Tastes Like The Ocean~

Hundred And Fifty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so how can I be sad? Um, I’m also a black man living in the USA. It’s not like I blame mom’s cooking or anything. Yep, she was the first one to tell me not to use so much salt. Was I the only one dipping his digits in the seasoning hm? To tell you the truth Madam Justice, I’m not sad today but angry. Yet again, I wasted the day away, when we could have already had this talk. You know why I’m always so exhausted? It’s so I have the chance to cry when I yawn. Barring blood, other secretions.

Blood is salty, but I’m in no rush to spill it. I’m a writer, not a vampire, but either way, I’m a monster. Not to mock such greatness as Johnston Green… Come on, man! He was the mayor of Jericho. How about The Instructor in The Animatrix? The Operative? Entertainment, my dear Madam Justice? Again we have Jericho, a nod to The Second Renaissance and Serenity (2005). Here is my reasoning, they all spilled blood and showed remorse in having to do so. There was no time for tears but the taste of blood, always.

Interestingly enough, that’s how I see myself as an author. Haven’t I been complaining that I have no time? Come November, and with that NaNoWriMo, all my time will be spent on words. In those, I will grieve Madam Justice.

Why do you think all of my stories end up on a “specific” subject? You know what else take like salt… sweat. Of course, you know the word I want to say, but I’m “trying” to be good. Hell, how do you think I got out of bed, only I haven’t broken, thank goodness. Anyway, I don’t even like killing characters in my books. Take “The Eve of a Cherry” as an example. The first book was to know what he was losing, the second “For A Fine Cherry Spread” was acknowledgment. The third will be acceptance of the loss.

I cry for characters in books, and yes, there’s also anger. Before my inopportune nap, I read Eric Vall, and that was… something. As the song goes, “Tell me something good.” Because if I started crying about my real life, I might never ever stop. The taste is too much!!!

Grief Tastes Like The Ocean.

I Will Have No Fear

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