Never satisfied with what ideas come from my esoteric head, editors
and publishers can’t see beauty and snub creations enclosed when
I disclose how I create coarse words and phrases that to them is sedate.
I’ve had no guidance on which expressions are acceptable to educated
people like them who unexpectedly rejected not only me and my writing
friends, but Miller, Fitzgerald, and Atwood too, so I’m concerned for their
ability to recognize before I’m dead, changing language, conditions, and
situations where presentations of my words fit as neatly as their fingers
stuck in their tight asses before putting on their glasses.
They don’t believe and can’t conceive how my muse who helps me create
when I’m awake or deep in a dream. Hemingway and Nabokov were
overlooked and demeaned by those in charge and no one intervened.
Brave New World, and To Kill a Mocking Bird, were degraded by them too, but worst of all, On The Road was described as an affectionate lark and the bizarre and offbeat was put down as trash. I for one love the strange and unexplained.
Without that, what is original in our world? So even though, they’re never satisfied
with what comes from my head when awake or asleep, I’ll continue to believe every thought and idea my muse sends my way is absolutely true and choose what I’ll reveal
to make my readers feel words aren’t locked in steel and are free to be used in bizarre perceptions if a writer elects too. Technology permits anyone to publish without the approval of those who used to only consent to words that weren’t curses in the dictionary