..as a testament to my literary bachelorhood, this Christmas I received, a fart mug from my sister Bethany VonBehren O'Brien (which, ironically, sounds just like my inflated muffled editor in New York) a SMELL MY NUTS candle from my (innocuous) sis' Jenn Gordon and a (I have never heard of it before) Poo-pouri (a sort of hygienic tonic use to douse and quell the noxious anatomical odors of, well) from my blithe cousin Jayma Lynne which I randomly picked up in our annual Dirty Santa...I tell you, all I can say is, come here an pull my finger....(oh, and happy new year!!!)
Poets and writers drink more intensely. Smoke more intensely. Worship God more intensely. Poets and writers fuck more intensely. Poets and writers give more willingly-- spilling the alphabetical marrow of their souls out into the albino sonogram of hope that is the page, hoping some stranger whom he or she has never before met turns to his crafted syllables in time of dire need and somehow finds solace, finds laughter finds a friend.
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