29 December 2018, 10:41 pm; now that I have that monkey off my back, I might be able to actually concentrate and write out my intentions for my paid patrons on patreon.
I plan on privatising most everything I have created and re-release them here on mmmother. So LOTS OF REGURGITATED REVERBERATIONS OF MY VERBALISATIONS. Basically because I’ve already written them, shared them, and there’s no point “hiding” my once public words. The point is that I want to share my knowledge, but I am sick to death of having my words either mocked, dismissed, stolen or misused.
I throw my hands up in the air and surrender. I was foolish to think that people would be honest enough to acknowledge the name of their muse, express gratitude for gifts freely given, or to admit to their mistakes. So many people are so foolhardy. I may be a fool, and I may be hard, but I am supple and bouncy like rubber. I am not bitter and fragile like a rock.
So… List making is something that totally helps me to get in the right mindset when I am to begin writing. This is because I do not write prose, I recount and recall events. My tales and mere recollections of my rotating tails, slowed down enough to extract memories and experiences that may be of assist to the story scribers.
I am comfortable to share my own fibres from the tapestry of life, but I am not so pigheaded enough to think that my story could take precedence over the stories and lives of other people. Regardless that I am the muse, the centre of the spiralling universe that spins all around us. My first love made those holes for me. The stars in the night sky are his reminders to me to not forget why I am here, and what is to become of me. I am fucking SQUEE-DIDDLY-EE-ING in excitement and delight that I get to go the fuck home and back into his arms soon.
Soon? Yes, soon. For when you are comparing against the timescale of all existence, days – months – years – millennia – it’s all such a blur. Time is meaningless and IDGAF.
I have recently discovered there are 3 prophets who write of me and my life, although they write of the different ages, the write of my past, present and my future legacy. I know that for I have read them, seen it, felt it. LOL. It’s really kind of cool. I mean, I fucking suck at telling my own story. I’ve been trying to do that since August and 150000 words later and I still have no idea I I’m any closer than when I started.
So without further adieu, let’s frame it! I mean.. list it!
- I don’t intend to abandon my wordpress blog or anything. NO WAY!
- I will be reblogging my own work. I will republish my blog entries daily, in chronological order. 1 recycled post per day, and I will SCHEDULE that shit for my sunrise.
- It is my intention to post 1 NEW thing on wordpress each day, too. But I will control myself and let it be LESS THAN 500 WORDS, or heck, it might just be some image, quote or clip I come across. Whatever tickles my fancy at that particular moment.
- This is because I intend to put the majority of my shit on patreon. Or as part of a newsletter. A broadcast or syndicate of some sort.
- I don’t think my words are particularly special or anything that they deserve to be hidden away, but rather it is to protect the sanctity of my message.
- legit, I plan on offering access to read my shit from as little as $1 per month. LOL. A buck. That’s the smallest amount.
- But because I am a gluttonous pig, I will offer tiers increasing at $5 increments, which will allow you access to .
30 December 2018, 12:24 am;