Tuesday, March 8, 2011

9 and a touch of yellow

I'll be honest with you.  I don't know what's going on.  I shouldn't pretend that I do, or say things that make it seem like I might know but am unwilling to share.  I can't make heads or tails, can't do the math, can't see the forest for the trees.  But that's about something else, not this:  #9 received today.  The point of sending my story to 17 places was to increase my chances.  Now it's become a exercise in masochism.  I understand why a lot of the great writers drank.

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