I Had Been Eagerly Waiting Just Such

When I'm Drafting, I Suppose It's An Intuitive Process - Figuring Out When Something Just Has A Surreal Glaze On It And When It Grapples With Something That Could Threaten A Character's Day-to-day Reality.

A Single Note, Held In An Amber Suspension Of Time, Like A Charcoal Drawing Of Icarus Falling. It Was Sad And Fierce All At Once, Alive With A Lonely Purity. It Went On And On, Until My Own Lungs Were Burning. “what Bird Are You Calling?” I Asked Finally, When I Couldn’t Stand It Any Longer. The Bird Man Stopped Whistling. He Grinned, So That I Could See All His Pebbly Teeth. “you.

I Hope That In My Thirties I Grow As A Writer, Push Into New Territory.

Somehow I Wasn't Adding Up Right Anymore. My Parts Weren't Summing Into Myself.

I Often Felt Myself To Be An Outsider, Which Is Great Training For All Writers.