I write books.
Yes, I'm a failure.
How about you?

What, on a stairway, or a funicular, would be even better than Love in an Elevator?

⤵️

Good afternoon from my back 40.

What happens first?
You give up on love, or you give up on yourself?

Yes, a mission to Mars would be cool, but how about something TRULY EXTRAORDINARY! Let's scrap the Martian musings and spend the equivalent time/money/energy on saving the biosphere and making life better for all lifeforms that occasion this miraculous jewel of a planet?

Get stranded on Mars and survive because you engineer a way to grow potatoes from your own poop.
Pfft...
Try successfully marketing an Indie book.

It's the Ides of March, and in memory of Caesar, exercise your inner desire for something that stabs to the heart and cuts to the bone.

Salmon sunset. Have a good evening.

I sell almost no books.
Seldom get a review.
Do I suck that bad?

"Discharge petition" sounds dark and debauched and then I discovered it has to do with Congress, so, turns out, my instincts were spot on.

Last night, I had a recurring dream of noodles and sauce. I used to dream of flying, or of love, or lust. I must be nearing the end. Should I dream of bologna or vegemite, I'm a goner.

The way things are going, Heaven is going to ask for a pin code and two-factor authentication.

God - or The Universe or The Giant Twinkling Ooze, or whatever thou callest thyself - can you help me help more people AND Mother Nature?
I promise, I will be good. You don't even have to admit me into heaven or give me the key to the next realm of existence. Thanks in advance.

In Home Depot and the renovation expert told me exactly what to do with my kitchen remodel.
I said, "Wow, you must be counterintuitive!"
She frowned slightly before smiling and recommending I see her colleague in lighting for some brighter bulbs.

First, I fixed a vintage chariot, then I had to pull two very large people up a hill to a deli in New Delhi. THEN I ended my day by dragging a wagon so heaped up with turnips that I was sure that in the two-mile journey, the axle would buckle. I tell, you, cartography sucks man.

Men were standing side-by-side, each with a bemused look on their face. Mostly they looked down, but some looked up, while others glanced suspiciously to the side. Water trickled. It was awful! It was then I realized that didn't have a ticket to The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

Good evening, Coso.
I hope you're having a good day.