BLOG Don't Bother Reading This - Shakespeare's Monkeys

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Don't Bother Reading This

My nonexistance gets turned into a cereal. It's called Crispy Cinder Blocks...

I don't know if I'm on chapter 6 or 7 of my memoir, "Fleadick", but, for some completely bizarre reason, as if I weren't already writing enough, I said to myself, wow, a blog! I've never had one, so naturally I want what I've never had. Anyways, my book really is called, "Fleadick" because that's what my favourite grandfather, Popo, called me. He also called "Skeeterpecker." .....This fixation with the male genitalia of predatory insects, well, I can't explain it. It didn't even occur to me until I was grown up and thought, "Fleadick"? That is really odd. There were a great many odd things and, unfortunately quite a number of tragic things, and so I'm writing a book about it with what I hope is a distinctive voice . Though there are some very dark moments in the book, there is a tremendous amount of humour, much of it dark, but that just cannot be helped.Complicating things is that I had another idea for a completely different novel, and I started it, despite being heavily involved with, "Fleadick", it's kind of a nice break, in a way. It's complete fiction, the title, "Shank Estates". It's an experiment the government's running. They were able to get their hands on a significant spread of land out in Utah when they shut down a known polygamist- 45 wives, 202 children. So, claiming all as Federal property, they build a middle class neighborhood of 4 bedroom, 2 and 1/2 bathrooms and move in all these witness protection families. Every family thinks it's the only one. A plant, Sam Blackman, he's black, of course( and will eventually stick out like a sore thumb(, and his white and blonde wife, Suzy, are in the neighborhood to do surveillance, even though everything is wired already. Anyways, the polygamist comes back for revenge, the undercover families all come out to protect each other and save Blackman from getting killed by the bloodthirsty polygamist or some such ending. In the meantime, there's all sorts of silliness. I want to sell it as a comedy, a movie, too. But who knows

And while I've got this flaming burst of creative fire under me buns, I just have to run with it. So, I'm a writing machine right now. It'll slow down soon. It always does. I cycle out. Anyways, was this a suckass boring blob? Uh, Blog? Or was this ok? I never wrote one before so let me know. Love,C