Jeff Seymour - Author of Fantasy, Literary Fiction, & c.: Sick

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Friday, April 4, 2014


Red coat. Ring toss burble farwing on the young tines of worldly squiggles. Whereby Smedley's ghost under toss the seabirds scraps of tiny h-u-ll gobbles goblins thunder in the tiniest of manors. Outside chance of pockets of rain in under the choice tree, overbearing under bearing the ball bearings are the place to be.

I have a head cold. The preceding paragraph is a brief sample of what's happening inside my head right now unless I expend a great deal of energy to turn those ramblings into coherence. Chaos is running amok, and I can master it only by effort of will.

So I hope you'll understand why there's no blog post of substance today. I tried to write one, but it turned out terribly. You can reread the first paragraph of this one a few times and probably get more joy out of it.

I shall now close with an old picture of me, taken during college, that I feel is a proper illustration for the preceding work of artpoetry headcoldfiction, which is the name of the new literary magazine I'm going to launch just as soon as I'm feeling better. Good night.

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