Dead Horse = Dead Phucking Horse!

Driven by my desire to write, I write. No focus. No one really behind the wheel. I write. Generally most writer's put out their finest material whilst engulfed by turmoil. I am the exception. I feel my best werk is done while I am happy, laughing, and smiling at the short-comings of others. I am for fuck sakes the original Angry Step Kid. I know turmoil. I have my Anger badge. (#666 if you're curious.) I've been a life time member.

I currently have been involved in the same stoopid conversation for the last 2 months. It never changes. The results are ALWAYS the same and it is literally about beating a phucking dead horse. It's phucking dead! DEAD! There's not anything that you say or do that is going to change the phucking outcome! IT'S. NOT. GONNA. CHANGE! Leave the phucking horse alone. There are flies around his head and maggots are nesting in his earlobes! The saddlebags have been looted. The stench of 2 month old death has almost been lost in the breeze. Leave the once noble steed to it's fate! It's a phucking dead issue!

It's possible that I am a bullheaded basterd summa-mo-phuckface. It's possible. The fact that I have explained myself the exact same way when asked about it only strengthens my resolve and adds to the complexity of why I am pissed. I'd like to dismiss this as retarded and moot, but it won't go away! I have tried everything except one unreasonable act to cure this terrible affliction. I am at wits end and maybe that's the answer. Put a metaphorical shotgun in my mouth and pull the trigger. Not only will the horse be dead but so will the issue! I guarantee I'll be a lot more pissed off and it'll be pent up rage when unleashed.

I exist in a shaky fucking environment where my werds, even when used in poor comic relief, I am held accountable for. Bitching aside, this is the gift and curse of all scribes. Once in a while writing gibberish and ranting to your hearts content unleashes and frees inner demons that needed to come out and play. Once in a phucking while. Not recently though. Most times it's just so that you can gather your emotions and so that you can continue on without the care of others feelings.

Quit giving a phuck about my werds? They say actions speak louder than werds. They say. I say whoever the phuck said that never had to write. Never had a reader. Never had someone asking them what "that meant". As if everything that I scribble has a profound or deeper meaning. Some words are meant to create emotion. We all know this. Some werds are meant to make people laugh, smile, cry, feel pity, shock, apathy, even hatred. Control of these werds are what makes them fun to write. Werd. If you've never been in the position to make others scream at you for what you have written, I suggest you try it. It's very liberating. The alternative, go find a phucking dead horse and descibe as many times as you'd like how, why, who, and what the phuck a dead horse is. Insanity is described as doing the same shit headed thing over and over and expecting different results. I must be insane. Must. Be. Insane.

I will have to consult CROM about my sanity and get back to you. In the meantime, bounce around in the ignorance is bliss state of mind and await the new wine or new whine whichever floats your phucking boat. Out.