Log 296 ~Prose And Political Willies~

I should really consider making a pseudonym, I mean I’m not a rich white guy that can say STUPID things or a pretty woman that can say naughty ones. Yet here I am, worried about my “writing” and the fate of the country. “Prose And Political Willies.”

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

Log 296 ~Prose And Political Willies~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means this moment, I would be involved in both. With all the fears I hold upon this Earth, why go about making more, right? Well, of course, with finishing yet one more novel, I need something to worry about. Am I sick, is some girl mad at me, will I be able to sleep tonight? Yes, I still remember, I’m supposed to be worrying about My Dæmon. My words, though, are like my money; when I think I’m beginning to catch up… And It’s Gone.

Has there ever been a day in my life where there was nothing? It’s the very reason I stay in bed come “The Day.” It’s sort of a throwback to being safe and warm before I was introduced to the world. Don’t ask me how that popped up, I should be talking about my novel that no one will ever read. I’m worried that it will be one more story that dies like my Six Impossible Things list every week. I still have until the end of the month for editing, and then what? Will I go back to blaming my Day Job once again?

Hell will I even have a job; reminds me I need to watch the CEO’s message. I know I still owe you an explanation as to why I think this all happened, plague and everything. Last night while I was still basking in the glow of my finished work, I got mad. It was a bid to avoid this morning’s feelings. This country is a screwed up place. Where doctors who are trying to save lives have to now stand against those who couldn’t care less? Ask me why should I be concerned? Other than the stores being empty and the new rules, I was living inside anyway whenever I got the chance. If I was getting sick, why did I make it to the table today? Again it’s a sin to find one problem, project, or penis erecting babe to take my mind off of everything else. You won’t hold it against me to say “penis” after my “PORN.”

How dare I call it erotica? Still, I’m the bad guy while others doom the world. How to Stop Worrying and Start Living, I should start reading again, that helps?

For now, I’m sorry, Inspector Echo; Prose and Political Willies.

I Will Have No Fear

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