Poet By Rote
Well, now I am officially a published poet...in no less an august magazine than Modern Drunkard. I have joined ranks with Poe, Bukowski and Ferlinghetti...er, and maybe some other, rather more unsavory characters. I really fucking hope so. Hey, maybe I am a rather unsavory character, come to think of it. (Is there a yourrapsheet.com? internet entrepeneurs, awaken!)
Amyway. I can add "published poet" to my list of accomplishments; of course, there will be autographed copies to go around...I get a free t-shirt and one ish, and like $25 bucks, still though, it's so cool since my publisher is taking so long to come out with my first two books. Of course you will all get signed copies.
Amyway. I can add "published poet" to my list of accomplishments; of course, there will be autographed copies to go around...I get a free t-shirt and one ish, and like $25 bucks, still though, it's so cool since my publisher is taking so long to come out with my first two books. Of course you will all get signed copies.
God is Great.
Labels: Alabama, Dead Midgets, Fiction, Lake Tahoe
posted by RevDrDark at
1:11 AM
1 Comments:
Congrats! Any time you can get something published, it's a big deal. I felt great winning the Ghost Writers contest for the last two years (The Anniston Star). I bought crap with the money (the $25 gift card), but hey, I had a good time blowing the cash.
Let's see, the first year I bought a Ouija board, then chunked it when I converted to the Faith and abandoned the last remnants of neo-Paganism. This year, I bought two CD's (Rita Coolidge and Glen Campbell). Maybe it wasn't all crap.
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