I can’t stop thinking about. For as agonizing as this attention to detail to my past life is, it makes me smile stupidly. I’m pissed, defeated, and unbridledly dancing alone. My horoscope suggests that I try not to draw a straight line from here to the future. I can’t account for two days ago, so why should I try to predict tomorrow. There is enough to worry about today. For once in my life, I am so happily passionate and driven. 9 out of every 10 hours I spend focused on my work as a dysfunctional artist. I don’t need to be judged for not meeting all the expectations of the world, worrying about why what I do is all wrong, because for once, I feel like what I’m doing is right. Still, I feel a lot lately. A muse. I hope nobody thinks that I intend to live the rest of my life under daddy’s roof. “Talk to me when that happens.” I am, if I’m being honest, in limbo, waiting in vain to hear about MFA programs for creative writing. Only one is in Chicago…and as of late, I have the idea that I want to live in Paris for a few years. Granted, Columbia is the only one I am confident I will be admitted to. Jeez, you should have seen the short story I wrote for my application. It is putrid. I sent everyone it because I thought I should showcase my versatility, and convey I could write more than just first person. MY FIRST third-person story was sent to EVERYONE. God, am I ashamed. It was about a man who was in love with a girl he meets in a reoccurring dream. Good concept, poorly written. I’ll post it if I feel up for it (I also revised Bae and rewrote Bae in Paris, and started working on Bae 3). All on my website Poetwithoutapen.com The reason I’m writing Bae 3 now is because I intend to have a collection of short stories published by year’s end, along with a book of poetry, a memoir, a children’s book, and a novella about my great-grandfather…SET YOUR EXPECTATIONS HIGH!!! I can only fail so much. Then I will begin writing the first book that will be published (or the third in the Jack Wright series where he goes to South America on a motorcycle). It is all practice. Maybe I sell myself short. I promise, once all that is done, if I’m alive, I’ll promise to call. That is the honest truth. I have unfinished business. I opened a can of worms that I intend to close. My second novel Carolina, Colorado, California will be published in April. I’m doing a second edition of Spoon in the Road because I’m also ashamed that I published that dog poop. The thing with that story is it reanimated a lot of dead feelings and brought them back to the surface. I don’t want to spoil, or change the ending, but in real life, I made a decision to be with someone…But by writing about all that jazz made me confuse myself with who I was writing about. A character. Archetypes. I thought I couldn’t escape it! Still, one of my greatest regrets was not living in that dirty city I walked to all because of a girl – my hometown sweetheart. Nothing has changed.