“I've always considered writing the most hateful kind of work. I suspect it's a bit like fucking, which is only fun for amateurs.
Old whores don't do much giggling”.
The past week found me musing about muses, and inspiration and expiration.
These are some of those thoughts...
And if you could hear those dying exhaled thoughts, you’d realise that what they are actually saying is “Help! D-Man has killed me, and that plagiarising bastard is stealing my work!”.
But that’s life.
He who snoozes, loses muses.
