...so my parent's dog keeps telling me whenever I sit down and try and concentrate on writing. As a husky, he doesn't really bark. It's more like a howl or whine. He claws my elbows while I'm sitting here in my old room, opening the weathered laptop this wet Christmas evening.
It seems many writers tend to label themselves and misanthropes. Rebels who have a cause (which is to have you read them) but don't want to reveal their pathetic desperation. Perhaps I'll just put it out there: I do need to be around people; and, yes, I do need to have someone read this from time to time. It's not that I'm of the mob, carelessly pricking my finger into the pool of Minnesotan socialites. But I don't think I would be sane keeping to myself at all times, snubbing my nose to the dinkytowners, uptowns, downtowners, and the art district commoners…
The pooch is yelping again, I'll be back.
-JKG
