Do you ever introduce yourself as: a poet, a novelist, a writer, a scribe, a journalist, an essayist, an ink man, a doodler, a sailor, a puppet, a cheerleader, a spy. ANd what do you do for a living? I torment people. I type. I scratch. I hope. I’m a screenwriter; would you like to touch my Oscar? Yes, it’s heavier than you think. Yes, I could kill you by bashing it into your stupid skull. From this you make a living? WHat do you think he makes? After taxes and commissions? How much of your home office do you write off? Do you get your agent a Christmas present? I write press releases and THEY ARE GREAT. I write grant proposals and would rather hang myself in a half-filled yard. I write jingles. Text books. Holiday cards. Recipes. I’ve written over four hundred love letters to a man who doesn’t love me. I text. I twat. I instagram. I tumblr. I love. I eat. I snow. I can’t stop crying and I don’t really want to. I am an artist. A prophet. A season in hell. I myself am hell. I am an agent.
How do you describe what you do?
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