Today I was contemplating a few strategies, but not really getting anything done. Contemplating is just another word for procrastination, therefore an enemy to getting actual writing done. It’s a personal downfall, one of many.

There are many pieces I will put on Amazon as “Singles”, inexpensive short stories or short works just to get things moving and begin establishing a name again. My publishing credentials are long since expired, so it’s all back to the beginning for me. One of these pieces will require one of my Pen Names, since it’s pretty much niche, non-fiction material.

I decided to take a shower while finalizing the decision; I make a lot of decisions in the shower.

As usual I turned on the radio, since I don’t like silence.

The show in rotation featured an interview with an author. His speech was slow, careful…too damn thoughtful. He was slamming Singapore, comparing it to Disneyland. Since I’ve got a soft spot for Singapore, I began mocking him. My memory caught up too late failing to remind my mouth that the author I was cursing was William Gibson.

It’s not wrong to mock your idols. I have a bust of Buddha which I’ve afflicted with a gas mask and welding goggles. Sometimes I even force him to wear beanie. But William Gibson is one of the closest things to a god I’ve got.

Blasphemy then. I can live with that. The bastard was cutting down a bucket-list location after all.

While in the shower it occurred to me that “god” was on the radio for a reason. He was telling me to get off my ass and get to work.

That’s the problem with gods…they wait until you’re soaping your crotch before revealing themselves and their hidden message.

Fuckers.

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