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grass_typewriter

So. I promised words, didn’t I? Something sweet and sulty, something slung way low and sung way high. Well, I’m working on it. I swear it.

Fuck, it feels good to come back to writing. I’ve been away far too long. New places and new views bring a whole world to the forefront. Things I want to capture and write about. I’m tired, to be honest. A little overwhelmed. My brain is still whirling a hundred miles an hour from packing and leaving, from driving and driving, from the view outside the window and behind my eyelids. I’m working on stories about weddings and fish men. About dark vampires and sweet kisses. About groping each other behind the wall of a Mormon church. About licking the lips of a boy who tastes sweet and spicy as cotton candy and cayenne peppers.

May the words flow as the miles mount.

Kiss kiss bang bang, s.

“It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop.” ~Vita Sackville-West

PS – Fantastic grass typewriter image by supertim.

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