Last night at midnight I de-activated my Facebook account.
I had to. It was ruining my ability to write.
These first two sentences are a perfect example of what I mean. I have literally started writing in status updates.
Which is fine for Shecky Green, or anyone who's life's ambition is to deliver one-liners in the Catskills.
However, at the age of 42 I still dream of being a poet when I grow up.
Hopefully, as I ween myself from the habit of encapsulating of summing up an experience in 120 characters or less I'll regain the ability I once had to just keep writing until I felt what I wanted to say had been said.
Today I started working on a project of combining my poems with Jenny Mathew's Tiny Drawings. This is the first one I finished.
Why I De-Activated My Facebook Account and Covet a Freudian Couch
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