Considering Quitting

I woke up today and seriously considered quitting writing for a while. What has it ever gotten be but heartache?

It's either the creative heartache or monetary and to be honest I'm much better at flaying and filleting myself creatively.

I have too much of my self-esteem tied up with the words I produce and it seems I've chosen a life both destined and doomed to be obscure. I've been saying that to be a writer one has to be persistent and consistent.

Right now, all I am is tired.

Wondering what the hell I'm doing

I'm sitting here feeling lower than a snakes navel. I have people telling me they like what I'm doing but I cannot convince everyone to throw me so much as a dollar on paypal. One fan in Denmark did, a while ago.

Now I'm wondering if it's right to ask at all for monetary support.

I cannot keep doing this. 300 dollars since March does not a living make.

I'm going to have to stop it seems, or slow down and this is the thing I really want to do.

One of my doofus dogs

This is Hoover. He just turned three and is a total klutz about stepping on people's feet. He's still enough of a pup that he doesn't know where his own feet are.

Of course Rio still doesn't and he's nine.

I'll profile the sons of bitches here and the bitch herself.

Then I'll show you the cat I work for and eventually the new kitten.

I have too many animals but if I didn't I'd probably just aquire more. I acrue animals and we like each other. I feel incomplete without a dog or a cat. I've had birds and fish... oh... the fish... yeah I have to show you them too.

I will be getting chickens. I'd like peacocks too. See? I'm nuts this way. Sigh. You'll eventually see all of them.

When I was the freaky kid the dog was my best buddy. He was my job, my playmate. He climbed trees with me and went on every piece of the playground equipment. He spent summer afternoons in a tree, on my lap, while I read. Poor dog, he bore the brunt of my need to control something in my life and forgave me for it all.

Animals never used me, not like people. Animals had no agenda and they valued me and loved me both.

No longer driving a Molotov Cocktail

The gas leak in my car has been fixed. I still have the exhaust to fix but at least noise isn't quite so dangerous.

Have a look at the red-neck hoist...

Random Poetry

A Modern Fate

Damn,
says Clotho.
Another run in my nylons!
Antropos, lend me
your scissors.

The Freakin' Dog Made it HOME!!!

On Tuesday, Rio and Hoover got out of my car when I gave a friend in need a ride into town to get groceries and back to the hunt camp where they were staying. They disappeared.

Hoover made it back to my house, thirty klicks away, that night. Rio wasn't with him.

I was just about to write him off when who should come home?

Rio. Gods if only dogs could talk. His tag is missing. He's soaking wet and he vacuumed up a bowl of dog food in nothing flat!

Jeez I was already starting to mourn him because it was so out of character for him.

My dogs are all fixed so who knows what happened? Maybe someone took him in... just let him out and he took off on them?

I'll never know.

But as little as I need three big dogs, my family is complete again and my boys will be happy.

A good homecoming and a small incredible journey!