all i’d set out to do this time was to read it, my reorientation back into my origin story, having an idea where i’m going with this whereas before this was all just a grand experiment.

i felt it in the core of my belly and wrestled with it, back and forth in an inner dialogue… it’s time to move on, for f*ck’s sake…

but i couldn’t. and didn’t. i veered and i stumbled and pushed back date after date after date, chalking it up to indie, outlaw path i’m travelling right now. and, of course, having to bear the weight as a worker in late capitalism america or whatever. things added, expanded on, it’s a reflection of my growth as a writer these past two years.

“art is never finished, only abandoned.”

— leonardo da vinci

and so i continue my story.

in the meantime, i give you the second edition of “a f*cked-up fairytale: raves and rolling – my journey down the rabbit hole.”