Saturday, February 22, 2014


         I  feel as if I'm hungover, but that can't be possible,
can it?
         I used to have just about every bad habit you can name,
but now I'm older and wiser. OR wiser because I'm older.
But his doesn't prevent me from behaving repeatedly
like a crazed slathering fool , sniffing after the remains
of the cake at  a toxic birthday party.
         I've gotten out of the habit of writing each morning.
This is strange because writing is an activity I really
enjoy.  Editing...not so much. So...not so much editing.
Editor 666 has made it down from the Arctic,
and I've given him a room... we'll see if this works out.
He's not the type of guy who understands the word,
'compromise'. Reasonable discussion, he cannot engage.
          And his table manners are atrocious. 

          But I SUSPECT need an editor... so I have been told.

I believe in living in the now. And that's when I want him
to leave.... Now!       
         Here goes:
         I thank God that the Christmas season is over.
I tend to go into a real nosedive with the weight of the solstice approaching. A Bob Dylan line comes to mind: "a trainload of fools bogged down in a magnetic field."  Those pre-
 solstice days make me feel that way - bogged down... in a magnetic field...
Editor 666:  "LIGHTEN UP! You son-of-a-bitch!  I'm not reading you so I can been dragged down into a sub-oceanic trough of morbidity and terminal  mind-warping depression!
I'm already depressed out of all remedy, after my
five month stay with the Mad Poet of Rat River!
 Writer:       I don't remember drinking last night, but I slept
on stage behind my amplifiers, and that's not usually
a good sign.
         I seem to remember someone handing me a pewter
stein of hog-wrestling-strength moonshine. I knew what it was
because I could see the little wavy lines above the surface
of the drink, even in the lights above the stage. That usually means it's really evil shit - just
what I like...a drink so strong it'll curl your hair, or your
toes, or both at the same time! A drink that'll hit you
hard front-on, straight-up, then circle around and bite you
in the ass! 

Ed.666: "You're really pushing it...And you're boring me!"

         O.K. This is going to get ugly. For one thing, an editor is supposed to edit, not insert his opinion into the text
every 200 words! 
                     The problem is, the prick is one of the best
editors alive today. I just have to find a comfortable
place for him (comfortable for me)  like a heavy cement-
walled basement with a vault door, locked from the

                    Now, I know the Mad Poet of Rat River, and
I'm aware of the utter disaster his cabin was in.
I know he couldn't find most of his own writings...
and he wrote all the time... so you figure it out.
Ratty has some kind of complex... I do not even
want to speculate about it.
         So we called Editor 666.

         Editor 666 was caught in some 
scandal in New York City, some company
involved with the New York Times -
he was caught in an embarrassing situation
with a director's wife. In fact he drove
her car into the hotel pool at midnight.
       So he wasn't going to
be a manager any more...!
          I hear he was caught in some pink Tutu...

Editor666: "That simply is not true."
Writer:            "Not true, eh?  What was that pink
thing wrapped three times around your neck?

Ed666: "I think it's called a feather boa."
 Writer:            "You think? You know what it was!
You haven't had a moment of uncertainty
in print in the last ten years!"

Ed666: "There are many, many things... that never should
             have appeared in print! About half your writings
              ought to have been excised."

Writer: "You forget... when you get mouthy the way
             you are right now... You forget the hammer
             I keep right here beside the keyboard...
             I use the hammer for rodents of all variety -
             including editors."

Ed666:   "..."

Writer:  " I thought that might quiet you down a bit...
             When was the last time you took a bath?"

Ed666:   "...."

Writer: "When is th last time you slept?"

Ed666:  "..."

Writer: "My God, he's asleep now! He's staring out
                      the window with his eyes open...How does he
             do that? Must be a trick he learned in New

              The writer is now waving a hand in front
of the editor's face. Not a peep emerges from the
              And his pupils are not contracting or dilating...
Is he dead? No... I can feel his breath on my
             He's sitting up straight in a straight back
chair... He looks like he's thinking, staring at the wall...
I've always suspected he's got some kind of bloodless,
lizard DNA in his veins.
             Maybe he's hibernating.

             Boy, if he were awake, he'd be editing this! I'm
sure he doesn't want this new bit of information
to get out! He's in some weird form of
'stasis'. He looks like he's thinking, staring at the
            I bet they paid him when he sat like this!
He probably had them all fooled. He's in some
kind of suspended animation.

Editor 666: "..."

Writer: "He probably's got himself trained... in some
            deep and twisted way... Likely his eyes
            pop open in some weird semblance of
            consciousness, every time I write 1000

Editor 666: "..."

Writer:   "He's not dead and he's not awake...
             He has just the slightest hint of a pulse.
 Editor666:   "....    ...."
Writer:         "..."             

Editor666:      "..."

Writer:            "Maybe he's shedding his skin."

Editor666:    "..."

Writer:          "..."
Ed:                    "..."

Wr:               "..."

Ed:                     "..."      "..."

Editor 666:      (whispers... talking to us, not to the writer)
Says:        "See how dull it is when I don't step in?"

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