Friday, October 8, 2010


To write without having read any great literature, is pitiful.
To write without having lived a life full of varied experiences is worse than pitiful. Serious writers run the gamut from drunks, fairies, factory workers, old men, whores, old women, infinitum. I personally like writers who fought wars, spent time in jails or insane asylums, and worked lousy jobs in bars and factories. Never trust a writer who comes to a reading, or book signing, wearing a tweed blazer and bow tie. This type will be smoking a pipe, and probably will have funky suede patches on his elbows. Most probably this poser is an ivory- tower elitist, who has a wealthy daddy. Look at his hands. If they look soft, like a baby's behind, get up quickly and run from the room or auditorium. Good writing comes from life's pain, or joy. It is hard, and egotistical. It has to be delivered with surety and impact, just like a right cross to the jaw. Good writing is the stuff of life and dreams. Academics who write to impress or confuse their readers with unneccessary twaddle, are all too common. They should save it for the university community; the insulated tomb, where people with shallow lives choose to die. A good writer takes the reader to places with him, and creates unending moving pictures which delight a readers mind. The writer's words should evoke a rainbow of emotions, which leave the reader changed or moved in some way. Good art does the same thing. I write for myself. The act of writing is an aphrodisiac for my mind. I also read for the same intellectual orgasmic pleasures. Conversely, the act of writing can also be a spiritual experience. A true writer never writes for money, fame, or for mommy and daddy. I write because I want you to feel, what I think I know. I'm really not sure that I know anything, but I must put it all down on paper. That's enough for me. I hope it's enough for you.


    When the blue white speckled egg cracks open....stunning new colors appear!
    The new life has a loud voice that calls for help!
    When from out of nowhere...a vision swoops in from the agua sky!
    She is our mother
    She hears our cry
    She feeds us night crawler pudding pie...
    Our belly is warm and satisfied!