good news... and no, I'm not really a writer

The good news is that, today I find myself just one *poem* away (*poem*--from the Greek word meaning 'thing that is made') from finishing my first *book* (*book*--from the German word pertaining to 'beech', the tree whose bark was used for writing 'things' on).

To be honest, I don't consider myself much of a writer, because a writer is somebody with something to say (like a speaker has something to say, but a writer relies more on symbolic ink patterns or cathode-ray squiggles, instead of pharyngeal air vibrations). I much prefer *listening* and, after that, *editing*, as opposed to this presumptuous, confrontational act of writing. I don't write because I like writing, really, that's not the reason; I'm more of an editor of the things I catch myself listening to (and listen to me now: it's perfectly ok to end a sentence with a preposition). Generally, the writing part is accidental--in the most disastrous sense of the word--and I'm as surprised at the disturbing results of these creative accidents and impromptu emissions as anybody else.

So when I do force myself to write something (often against my will, when I'm exhausted or depressed; often when I'm in a fantastic mood, and should be outside kissing some pretty girl instead of sitting at this laptop and shrivelling into a raisin), then to get some satisfaction, to make it worth the cost, the sacrifice, the inevitable carpal tunnel syndrome, then I have to guarantee myself that the ultimate product of that writing session has to in some way, somehow, blow my mind. And doing that--ie melting my own face, with words--often requires a lot of *editing*, which on the other hand I am more than happy to do, because editing is fun, and so that's when this blog becomes fun, for me. So I confess--I have only a vague idea whether or to what degree the stuff I'm serving up here is blowing any other minds out there, but rest assured, if it's on this blog, it's because I've just managed to utterly, absolutely blow my own mind, and felt compelled to share it with the universe (who needs to smoke cigarettes, drink liquor, or tip cows to have a good time when I've got blogspot?) . That said, I am glad a few of you (among the 20-35-odd people a day who check this site) have reacted favourably to the things I've written/edited; it gives me another reason--in the long run, quite a significant reason--to keep on doing it.

So thanks to all those who have left the kind words, and please, forgive me today's puzzling hypocrisy, ie doing all this *legitimate writing* (since today I actually have something to say, which in itself is a fine thing, but is strange when I just said that usually I don't--have anything to say that is) when in actual fact I'm not a writer. I hope you can let it slide. Fortunately for me, there is not always so much writing to be done, but there is more than enough editing to go around. I tell you, *everything* out there is just waiting, asking, begging to be edited--which is probably why I've been so busy the past two-and-half months. :-)

Anyway, regarding my *book* and its one missing *poem*: it has a title, ie this poem does, but it itself is not yet written. This is where YOU come in, hopefully, since I don't know if I have the energy to complete it myself. This final, keystone poem (I wish there was a better word than *poem*, one not so completely raped and bankrupt), is titled "99 rejected subtitles." The "subtitles" referred to in this unwritten poem's title (please try to follow this) themselves refer to, ie are subordinate to, the title of the book itself, which also happens to be the title of this blog, that is, "Freedom is a Cupcake," which, you may not know, is the title of a *poem* that I wrote/edited several months ago (I think it was in December) and which so utterly blew my mind at the time of its making, that I made it the title of this web site in addition to the title of my (never-to-be-published) book, which, as a chonological sidebar, I started compiling/editing even before I knew what a *blog* was (book beats out blog by 'bout three months).

So, here's this much-too-much-ballyhooed *poem* so far:

99 rejected subtitles

[empty space]

What fills this appalling void will be a list of precisely that, 99 lines or phrases or entities of an interesting and poignant subtitular quality. And each phrase will begin with the number 99, a la

(think first, for inspiration, of the title of the book, 'Freedom is a cupcake')

(now here's the title of the poem:)

99 rejected subtitles

(and the guts of the poem:)

1.99 things to do when you're unemployed
2.99 reasons to call a psychiatrist
3.99 ideas you're going to enjoy meeting
(man this thing is writing/editing itself!)
4.99 *poems* by 99 *poets*
5.99 excuses for my misbehaviour
6.99 smiles and frowns
7.99 deliciously liberating tidbits
8. .....
9. ....
(and so on and so on and so on, up to 99 different rejected subtitles)
99. 99 ways to start writing a book

Anyways thanks for making it this far down in this utterly, mind-numbingly ruinous post; I hope you can help me write this *poem*, (and will perhaps want to read my book, if it ever gets published) because Lord knows I can't stand doing it myself.

Oh, just so you know, this book will end up including 100 *poems*. This one, about "99", will be the 100th.

That's all for now. Cheers, Pat

ps next up, it's blown minds, I promise

pps I was in such a rush to write this that I didn't have time to edit it very much. man, I hate that.

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