Life Alert

I can't write shit any longer. It's not factually impossible I just mean I'm too tired and busy and anxious to sit and think and write shits even though I swear that's all I want to do.

I got a novel I'm working on and a book of poetry and a really important work of non fiction. The triumvirate. And maybe + a collection of all the good stories I've written brushed up and revised - then we have the holy quadruplet.

But of course I can't. Cos life. Cos life's a bee-itch and a young nigga's gotta hustle and shit.

So it goes.

I have a couple of external blogs and secret projects I'm working hard to bring to live and publish and seo optmize and rank and make a shitload of dough off of.

Then I'll write.

Plus I got a real life job too, of course.

And if past experience is anything to go by, these kinda plans barely work and I'll merely work and work and keep feeling like I'm getting closer and closer and then I'll die without having written nor completed nor published any thing. Ah. Ah.

So it goes.

I'll update this shit in 6 months and let you know how it goes.