Since it's been several imaginary YEARS when last I took 'pen to paper' I figured I'd rite about NOT being able to Write. It's qwrazee I know, to rite about NOT writing,, but here I am,,, defending a morbid sensibility that results in a "Stream of Consciousness" Overflow. Folks who Suffer through my Daily Column in Twitter Space KNOW that Current Events have rendered me agonizingly Indolent, meaning, I find it EZ-ER to Badmouth the Good than Excoriate the Bad and Denigrate the Ugly. It's all FEAR-based;; I'm old and I FEAR that the Death of Democracy will result in the Death of `ALL` Many ov us NEED in order to Make it to our Death Day in Some Form of RELATIVE Ease. NONE of us want to Die Destitute and UN-Holy. I want to Die with my "Boots ON" Sword in One hand Pen in the Other, or at least with Shovel in Hand and the Other on a Puller, cranking TONS of Merciless Wisdom into a Position of Noteworthy Observance. Technically it would be BEST if I INVITED Death to myy Seated Meditative Position where I would STEP into the Bardo with the abject ASSISTANCE of Death. THAT would be Perfect.
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