20 min read
26 Aug

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.

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