Tiny Bits of Rotting Meat
I’m attempting to post at least twice a month. Two times every 30 – 31 days. Seems feasible when I don’t consider that all the tiny bits of rotting meat that compose my brain are acting out, attempting to derail–not my work, that isn’t quite right. But something, me possibly.
Yeah, so. The manuscript I put together for the art auction actually sold for $17. I hope whoever got it enjoys it, and I’m glad to have been able to contribute to the cause. Don’t know what cause I mean? Check out the previous post whydontcha.
One of the tiny bits just told me to type out many profanities, but I held my own. Proud? Sure you are.
I have a new story coming out this weekend in a small publication called Scalped. I’ll post a link to the distorted tale once it’s officially up.
The story was, once upon a time, called “State of the Union,” after which I renamed it “Manhattan” to adhere to an anthology’s guidelines. Then, when it was not accepted for the anthology, and to strip of it any lingering political themes, I renamed it once again “Smiles Beneath.” That is the name it will be published under.
Now the rotting meat is telling me to stop typing, quick, before something horrible happens. I’m inclined to listen this time.