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Over a month since the last post.  What can I say?  Work just exploded out of control (had to drop one of my classes) and there’s been a non-stop suck storm going on for the last six weeks or so.  Seems like, anyway.

However, just because I haven’t posted doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping busy writing.  I’ve got a fairly large story that’s one or two revisions away from being posted here, and a couple smaller drafts of the usual (me bitching and moaning) that just need a quick grammar and spelling edit.  Yes, it’s a blog, but I still try to not look like an amateur when I put something up for public consumption.

I spent $1700 today, and I’d just like to say, “Fuck Verizon and fuck Capital One.”  Miserable fucking cockholes.

I got a great email from John Fuckin’ Harrelson today.  In it was a fantastic mini-essay that contained the following line (I’m paraphrasing, I don’t have the actual email in front of me at the moment):

“‘We’ have a television show to find people like Kelly Clarkson, who wouldn’t know a good song if John Lennon gave it to her.”

John rocks, in every sense of the word.  You can find him here and here.

More to come in the next day or so.

About

Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.

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