So here we are. 2015. And here I am. Typing shit on a computer like it is some sort of therapist. Like it will ease and appease me. I don't know what I am doing or why I am doing it. Maybe somebody will read my shit, maybe they won't. Maybe I will continue to type to a similar crowd as a Gary Glitter comeback gig.
Who cares? The writer writes for himself and not for you.
Who cares? The writer writes for himself and not for you.