I ate an apple today that was named after a typical American male forename: Joey, Dennis, Christopher. Something. In my hand it was bigger and more dense than I expected and I wanted to yell out “APPLE GRENADE” before biting into it, but I generally like staying employed. Now the fruitbomb has been turned into heat and waste just like everything else in the universe.
I have another book idea exploding in my ear like a superheated spore. It’s about a semi-dystopian academic/contractual society, firearms, God, the nature of adulthood, and time travel theory, but it’s not as ridiculous or fun as all of that sounds. But first I have to finish the third re-de-write-edit of the first thorn in my side book.
I’ve been reading a book of Poe’s short stories and all of the death inside of them is starting to make me sleepy. Maybe I will review it.
2 Comments
Spores for the brain are good. Good for you. Good for America.
I like to mix them with flaxseed and hum the Soviet national anthem. I really like that song.