…as in, I’m still alive. And still recovering from the immuno-suppressant-induced coma from last year (!)… I didn’t feel so self conscious about my leg braces, until Cyanide and Happiness did a short where a beautiful woman revealed to have squeaky leg braces is the first in a series of “the saddest things the comic author could conceive of.”
So, in addition to dealing with disability, it’s the Christmas season and whatnot; I probably won’t have any new poems until the new year. I might go ahead and try to record some poems and put up the mp3s or Soundcloud them or something.
Also, I need to attend to my dropBrian Tumblr, which is growing weeds it’s so neglected. I actually am really happy with that Tumblr; while I don’t have many regular followers, I get lots of random people on Tumblr liking my poems, which is gratifying. Before, when I just published here, I’m pretty sure my only reader was this bitter old hater who is obsessed that I’m writing about her—I’m not.
Also, don’t ACTUAL victims of stalking and rape usually AVOID enthusiastically dating their stalker-rapist? But I forgot, her life is essentially a bad Friday night drama that’s burned through its premise…