what a fucked up week.
I've been alternately confused and tired and lonely and angry -- with brief jagged interludes of delight -- and I've thought a lot about that quotation from George Saunders at the top of my blog.
I feel like such a godforsaken outsider--and not the cool kind in skinny jeans and weird hair with ear plugs and face tattoos--but the one mumbling at the bus stop about the spider bite antidote that's turning their skin all splotchy (true story from today bee-tee-dubs), the one you don't make eye contact with or speak to, the one you thank the merciful heavens that you are not.
if confusion is a state of mind then call me Governor, because it's where I rule.
capitol hill doorway -- see more at Photobucket yo.
There's a shadow constantly hovering at my shoulder. For all my gallivanting into the social whirl, nevermind the positive social media...
Ever wondered what it takes to get a piece of fiction published? I'm not talking New Yorker type of prose. That's a rarefied world ...
Check out my new video, a brief reading from a story published this past spring in Opossum.
Welp, after a half-year experiment in social media, BSP has returned to its blogger roots. I hated Faceborkland, tbh. Sure, it was easier t...