Buenos dias.
Good morning tweeter I twitted
As I finally admitted
I'm head over heels
In goodly like
With the fool's own thinking
Of my own Patreon
Even though the dawn
Of the Petrie Fish Age
Ain't all the rage
And still the people say
Fuckin' eh
We like his tweets
But even for a buck
We can't support the Chuck
Aye the name with which
I done but carried
Until the goodly age
Where some were long since married
And sadly divorced
As I was 35
When I said Charles was better
And not just as a writer
But as you can guess
If you have twice the wit as me
Since the wit of poetry
Least the one I practice
Is come by easily
Or is it not
I actually think
It takes a certain brightness
To rhyme half as good
As yours good truly
Not to sound like an ass
But rhyming good
Is understood
To be best but be
A natural talent
At least by those who have it yes
Which I confess
Is me myself and I
A modest guy
With reason yes indeed
Save for poetry and sex
And one of those is whisful thinking
Clearly not the verse
Lest your'e deaf
I say with a laugh
Because I feel like laughing
For I feel good
And ready for the day
That I'm a patreon man
Which begs the question
Who wants to be
The first good patron of the fish
Dang, now I have to go out and get a patreon because surely hundredsd of people will have bucks in hand to support my artistry, both written and drawn.
Could that be 800 people? That would be a decent month to live off of.
Also, what are they getting for a buck?
Just me.
For the amount of content they'll get in a month, that's a steal for them.
I post writing that I write, like durrh, daily, even if I have to catch up on the posting of said writing, that I write
Though it's freely available.
So what's the bonus to them.
They'll get a visual shoutout in a drawing.
Yes! That's it.
Will that be enough?
Wow, that's a lot for drawings in a month, even shared.
I'll have to off them the choice of being included in the Patron's Verse.
Will that be enough to intrigue people to share a happy buck with me?
Now obviously, I wouldn't get all that money, because Patreon has to support itself. But I'd get most of it.
Oh to dream.
Wow, I nearly forgot tom shout out the newest subscriber, who I didn't ask what she wasnted to be called in her shout out.
So I will call her the GMD, and fifth subscriber.
Thanks for subscribing drop by whenever you wish, I'll keep on keeping on.
And eventually that keeping on will be back to the storying harder than I am now which is totally easy since there's none of it at the is moment.
I travelled through time again and now it's near the end of the quarter and while I got off to a great good start, being thrust through the timestream stole my chance at having a better morning.
Sigh.
So instead of the glory that I found yesterday, I am sure to fall well short of it and another week gets off to a sad start.
Oh bother.
And the trend to failure continues eh?
It seems likely.
Of course, It doesn't mean that I will be deemed a failure by anyone because I failed to followup the millionization with a second one, that was short of the success in the hundreds of thousands.
Though I'll be shaking my head at myself because I writ hard for a goodly string of weeks.
And now it's a lesser string of them.
Also going back to back, that would have been sweet.
Kuuanonni.
This is not how I am going to bounce back and get back on track with the good weeks, passing on the 1st quarter, falling off in the 2nd quarter, relative to yesterday, getting a stupidly late start today and having no idea if I can make a goodly effort in the 4th and go back to back three fields' worth on the harvesting front.
Ugh.
And I am not amused by my wonky old desktop not liking my wanting to use one of the open windows to go somewhere online.
It wants me to reboot probably eh?
I don't want to reboot mwod. It takes so much longer than it once did and I'm already needing to strike from behind.
Oh bother.
Damn you MWOD.
Yeah, MWOD is in a mood and is not going to let me do anything with any of those windows.
You'll have to excuse me.
I could totally ignore this now and just write write and write some more but I don't think that's going to sit right with me.
Even though it's just the excuse I need to at least write until I've harvested half a field so that I bring the need down to another half field of harvesting before I leave for the Saturday trip to the grocery store for the buergering of another Saturday.
Sadly, it will almost certainly be veal because the price of beef is high there.
Veal isn't the same.
But it's still burgers and that is what I have had on more Saturdays than not and I like it this way because I like burgers.
So, do I do the right thing for the writing or do I continue to fight with MWOD?
Wow, he won't even let me go back and engage with the not responding which is also how I do the official count of words, though at least there's a rememdy here inside the doument maker itself.
Though I know that I am well short of 500 words and probably just have 240 banged out as I fumed about MWOD.
Well, I was more than a hundred off, just to the good.
Therefore, 400 words here I come.
Though expressing it as rows sounds less like me writing about writing which even knocked me back.
Besides, I can do better than that.
As you have seen if you've been around.
That's a wonderfully small number of people who have been around though.
Tick tick tick.
Yeah, that would work.
And the poet sat alone
Not upon a throne
Of well crafted wood
Covered in leather
But on a broken down chair
He'd love to share
With the removal men
Save for one darn thing
It was sadly so
His most comfortable one
So he wasn't done
And wouldn't be
Until a change in his fortunes
A change of course
Which wouldn't come but easily
Thus not from his poetry
Which for a second straigh day
Came about
In the third good quarter
Though it makes the most sense
As he is third of three
And least of five
If we're being frankk
And that's what poetry is
Just with a more pretty face
Or pretty words
That can strike like a hammer
And make people stammer
As they're taken away
On splendid journey
By the power of thought
Given wordly form
Not that it matters
To the making of money
Oh no honey
That's the least regarded art
And scarcely plays a part
In most poets lives
And your hero and mine
Is hardly the kind
Though exceptional he is
Like dare I say gifted
It hasn't yet lifted him
To any heights
Form which he'd be afraod
To look on down
So here we are
No poet star he
They laugh at poetry
Or say whatever
I guess its clever
But yawn ho hum
Where's the pew pew pew
The daring deeds
Or sex sex sex
The mystey and intrigue
The fantasy too
We can't forget that
Well the funny thing is
Poets can and do
That thing too
But what dear reader
Of any plural sense
is daring enough
To read such writing
When all they've likely seen
Is poetry as poetry
And not as tales but flowing like wa
Plus the leastr rearded art
That's a fact to me
They scoff at poetry
And not just mine
But all of it too
Which begs the question
Why even do
The poet's thing
If we can't even sing
On the money train
Silly stubborn artists
That's what we are
That's we are indeed
And we have a need
To weave with words
Heeding the flow
As we go
From beginning to end
That's the story my friend
In whatever plural sense
There is today
Well, I don't know about you, but I'm taking myself a bow.
This rocked.
But I would say that aince I write this piece and it will ber seen by...
Five subscribers at last count.
Hey, I know, I have to start somewhere. And five is better than four which is better than three and so on.
But does it have be so dang slow?
Wow, I'm harvesting hard now.
Thank you poetry.
I have to anyway, because it was poetry that first called to me way back when. And at the beginning poetry was far stronger a pull on me than the pull of the story.
Well, well, well.
Unless the count is terribly wrong, which it could be, wrong that is, not terribly though, I've harrvest almost a field and I still have an hour to play with before I must ready for the grocery store trek.
Dear subscribers and at five, you are dear indeed, like a precious thing that gives me the knowledge that I'm not shouting out into the void.
Oh yeah, what do you think of the poetry I poe the heck up, be it the tales of Byron Prestwick, both real and imagined, though I think yopu've just gotten the real and not as much of it as there is and the last couple of days that are far removed from his fantastic world which I am excited about.
I just need to return to it.
And then keep going back like daily.
But I'm not there yet.
So feedback would be very much appreciated.
If you'd be so kind.
Would you look at that, I've banged out more today to this point than I did yesterday.
Huzzah for me! And a good deal of it came on the backs of poetry.
Hopefully, that doesn't irk any of you.
Okay, here it is, the final push for the quarter, though on another day, I'd still have the better part of ninety minutes and would in fact write to the end of the quarter but Hamburger Saturday means groceries.
Besides, I will need to harvest less than a field in the 4th to make good on the three harvest day and that's a good thing.
I can't say that I'm back at full harvest power because this will only be the second straight day of three fields and I'm still well behind the harvest goals this month and won't catch up in the final ten days but if I can fall back into that good habit I can still chase down the millionth word before the end of the year.
Hopefully on the back of some story writing, like the story of Mortuvhen, which is not the best title. Luckily, that's only a working title and I will come by another better title.
Oh, I'm going to have to harvest more than a field tonight to make it a three fields' harvest.
I know, that's enough farm talk.
Kuuanonnii.
My eyes are feeling old.
Thankfully I have my cheat glasses if I should absolutely need them.
But so far, I haven't had to wear them with any regularlity for months.
Right now though. It feels like I should be wearing them a lot sooner than later.
Ugh.
I put the glasses on for my phone. But am I about to put them on for MWOD?
I did, but I took them off.
But that time is surely coming as is the time that the Montreal Canadiens win another Cup.
Yeah haterz, the Habs will win another Stanley Cup or 7. 9 straight decades with a Cup was not an accident. And it wasn't because there were so few reams and any other blah blah reason the haterz love to bring up.
I wanted to have potato sliced up and baked for that quasi-fries taste but after two big ole pork burgers I'm beyond the need for those tasty fries like.
And I did those burgers without buns as I decided that I would go with rye bread.
It's not as good with bread. Buns are better! Especially if they're burger buns.
The Dallas Stars are ahead of the high flying Colorado Avalanche. Is this going to be a high scoring series?
Yes?
My eyes are feeling stronger.
But the idea of harvesting more than a field is not.
Time is ticking down but I am not writing hard. And hours into the 4th quarter, I am thinking that I won't be before the night is done.
Though at least I've finished eating and as long as I'm not thrown into the timestream or something else goes wrong, I should be able to get going and stand a chance at reaching my harvesting aims.
Of corse staying away from twitter would help too.
And having some poetry to write would help, even if poetry is the slowest form of writing that I do.
The Habs are done
But listen son
While they aren't
The Bleu Blanc Rouge of old
That had stories told
Of their epic greatness
And the winning of 24 in 78
Hope is on the rise
Yes hope is rightly on the rise indeed
So the nayasayers can shut up, they got their chance to whinge and cry and say stupid things like they could have drafted Alexis Lafreniere so we wish they'd lost to Pittsburgh.
You play to win.
They were't going to get him.
Period.
So be happy that they got an extra ten games that mattered in a season, that without COVID, they would have been watching from outside the playoffs.
Your total lack of Habsitivity peeves me greatly.
Go Habs Go!
And that's all I want to write about that for the rest of the night.
Shakes head at the naysayers. Whinging like there was no tomorrow. There is, maybe you just can't see it.
My last count was at 2424. It's just past the bopttom of the hour and a good day's harvest is within reach before the end of the night.
And the Dallas Stars just scored to take a 5-3 lead in the 3rd, just before the final ten minutes.
The Stars were supposed to have scoring troubles?
Tell that to the Flames in the last game and the Avs in this one.
There are fewer than 30 seconds left ion the game and the Stars are going to win Game 1.
Sorry, not sorry Avs.
Yeah, it's the Roy thing. Though Joe Sakic was cool for Canada.
But if not for Houle and Tremblay, Patrick Roy would have seen a different ending to his career with the Canadiens.
Oh bother.
Tick tick tick.
I'm closing in on the goal for the day, even though I'm not feeling at my best.
Can I feel my best that I can be soon?
Mind you, my complaining is quiet because it's Summer and I am not as good with the body since I started to age up.
Or since I hit my thirties certainly.
But I'm still doing better than a lot of people who have real problems and got dealt a bum hand. I got dealt a good hand and things have just come to the way that they are.
I can deal with this.
What I'm not sure if I can do is close the distance between where I am and where I want to be.
I'm close, but close only counts in horsehoes and hand grenades. And I have neither.
It feels like I should be going to bed early, though early in this case will be tomoorrow as I have hit the final minutes of the day and still need to harvest 3 rows.
But I will have just enough time to go back to back 3 fields' days.
And then, I'll probably go to sleep inside of an hour into the day.
Though it seems like I need the extra rest.
Tick tick tick.
I am tiured but there's a livestram by one james Raiz that I have caught towards the end and fingers crosssed, it will be over soon.
Until then, with 14 minutes left in the writing day, I'm going to push on and write until the end of the day.
And then as I said, with the way that I am feeling now, I'll be off to bed as soon as possible.
Wait, I am going to write just enough so that this day is the sencond of a back to back right?
I would feel bad if I came up short with less than 200 words keeping me from the harvesting of threre fields and I might have let too much time pass and that will in fact be my reality when it shouldn't have happened so reagrdless of whatever happens, even if it's a phone call from a goodful personm I will now charge hard until the end of the day and hope that I did in fact write the last 200 words, or more that I needed to write before the end of the day to make it to happy happy for the second day in row.
And that is important because it's difficult enough to do when I am hitting 3 fields day after day, week after week
Oh noes, it really does feel like I fell short of my aim and it shouldn't have happened.
Damn!
I only needed to write 1060 words in the 4th and I wrote how many? Not enough! Shakes my head.