a very old post, perhaps a year ago, keeping you the reader entertained. Morsels man, morsels.

I never set out to be like this. I feel sometimes like I’m holding a secret meeting, here in my basement, but I’m the only one who shows up, so instead of carrying on with the secret meeting, I just listen to good tunes, or type on this same old computer and revel in the glory days, that never really were glory days.
I’m exasperated at the notion I give myself of having to go through all the scraps of paper I’ve hewed away in folder’s, stashed away in notebooks, and filed on floppy discs in several different boxes. Organizing is not my strong point, I need a teammate to write something with all the trimmings. But I don’t want to have a co-author, one of those names that you’ve never heard of, but know really did most of the writing when someone’s story has gained enough national interest to make good dough on, regardless if they actually had any writing skill to begin with. I do freely except help though. I’m stubborn, but not that stubborn.