A Long Weekend In Bed - Little Blue Pill

I've been in bed all weekend. Hot to the point of feverish and most definitely steamy.


Sometimes being sick is some sort of catalyst for mad poetic skills to be unleashed from my fingertips straight into your eyes, and hearts, and minds... More than a few times, the words I've strung together while ill have yielded a tonne of work. I mean tonne as a figure of speech not an actual tonne. Although, if it'd all been printed out, on 8.5x11", 20lb, recycled paper, it might actually weigh a tonne. Single-sided, naturally. Those are standard submission guidelines.

I'll come back to that after I expound on my theory about illness influencing inspired ink. They're all kind of linked in together anyway, you know that's how I roll. 

I figure on the fact that better first drafts require fewer edits, fewer edits means less energy spent awake and more for sleeping away the cooties. Simple math. So, those times when I so righteously rocked out with the writing stick, while wishing for swift death as relief from whichever malady was ailing me so, was a simple matter of energy conservation. 

I don't think it's any excuse to write tired. Don't take that shit out of context to excuse sloppiness. But in all honestly, I'm so delirious with health recovery efforts I genuinely can't tell if any of this is making any sense at all. Oh, it might be coming together here in a second... or not.

Y'see, I might talk a lot of shit here. A lot. A lot of shit and a lot of talking. And by "might", I do mean "definitely". Not the point, Bitch. It's all proper. Even when I'm fuckin' wit' it all and makin' up words to suit my fancy, it's legitimately composed. That's the trick to getting work as a writer, proving that you can. That, and getting it out there. Check out the social media marketing platform I'm hustlin' for more on that end of things.

My point here is that you can't make up your own rules and expect those fuckers with printing presses to take you seriously. Save the creativity for the word stringing because if you employ the language laws ineffectively, it doesn't exhibit your creativity, it simply shows you don't know what you're doing. That is exactly the wrong impression to make.

I suppose the printing press reference is a little dated. It also infers the old school mentality that suggests the maturity to accept that some shit is worth abiding, like them old fan-dangled ideas about using language law when you go at the written compositions. Otherwise known as "doin' it right the first time!" But ya, I agree that there are far more venues online these days than there used to be. Consequently, there are now far more hacks online willing to accept hackery. Blogger itself makes it so that any fucker with a computer and an Internet connection can be a published writer. Giddy up, but edit that shit if you want people to read it. Fuck! Did you forget to remember "Brians tattoos"? Don't be that guy, using words.

Yes, Fucker! Of course you can play on words and stretch those rules, it's pretty much all I do do all day, every day. But "i dont fuk wit shit in fkn txt spk" unless it's a quote from a text. So, it's in quotations, and therefore fuckin' proper. Does anyone have any intel on how one presents a text conversation as part of a composition? I have a few ideas but I need to work out that detail before I hit the publish button on those ones...

Lazy Fucker is the label you get when you can't follow simple rules. So... you'll probably be seen as a high risk driver to insure on the company vehicle, "too much work" from a publisher's position, a problematic employee generally, and entirely deficient in self awareness, which is a turn off for most partners who aren't also complete dumbasses. I have this penchant for unwieldy sentences that go on forever. I make commas my sluts. It's not right to abuse them like I do. There's a twelve step program I am looking into. On the Internet.

With no segue www.whatsoever.com: What you need to understand is that Viagra/Cialis/boner medication isn't ecstasy. It won't make you horny or inspire arousal in any way. It will help you keep an erection for an inordinately long time. You'd know that if you read the printout that came with prescription but that would require not having purchased it on the black market. Oooh, sounds so seedy when I tell it like it is. 

But there's always Google. Is the fan club doing a running tally of the number of times I refer y'all to our lord and saviour, Google? You should, just sayin'.

They didn't have Google back in the day when I was trying to learn about sex and drugs so I could do both of them a lot, without dying. I went to actual libraries and book stores. That was part of the adventure. 

You've got it incredibly easy these days. You can, quite readily, access a lot of information about pharmaceuticals acquired through shady endeavours. There's really no excuse for you wasting a perfectly good boner bill and expecting to trip balls like you're on sexy street drugs. 

Fuck, most of the time, anything beyond a serving size of "just enough"  chemical street drugs impair your boner functions anyway. You know, the dreaded Whiskey Dick. Does it have a different name when it's induced by chemicals?

If you're going to "do" drugs, you might save yourself some grief by reading up on whatever the fuck you're getting into. 

p.s. I agree that the sexy fantasy version of the long weekend in bed and little blue pills was probably a better choice for today's story but you'll just have to use your imagination, mine is drunk. It wants me to tell you it loves you...