When the words don’t flow, when the letters don’t dance, I have to turn to a stream and hope for the best. I know we’re short of time because you can click to work with bands in the past (I’m not listening to class, just seeing how they answer questions until I run out of words to type or the link in my bio is a stream of consciousness type of poem). I’d rather write a poem than anything else but I need to work up the courage to be a blog or a magazine or a post so I can eat better than pasta and pay my friend for a home. I’ve written poems this way and they’re very strange, no stranger than the words that flow from my mouth when I’m not really thinking about anything, just trying to release some tension from the writer’s block and the lack of sex. When was the last time I had sex? I don’t even want to say how many months, I can come to the next one at a live performance slacking it but what’s great about a live performance is that it hosts my thoughts and keeps my fingers moving so that maybe I’ll be able to write something of quality some tomorrow or today but I’m not going to try too hard to do what people like to read because I don’t like to hear their voices very often anyway. Just one. There’s one voice I like. Stop barking at people. Just let me type. One more word, one more phrase, one more interaction on a deeper level and I’ll have something to write about. This is a great prequel to a real experience of humanity. I’m trying to continue headlining and typing an act so someone thinks my writing is worth something, but this is just a future endeavor to keep me going while I wait to be able to make a living from a stroke.