If there is one time in your life when you want to be a whore, it's when it comes to editing your written work. Sadly, I am not a whore. But I want to be an editing-whore, because then I won't have to login to Blogger and fix little mistakes like adding an a to dilating and fixing skipped pronouns and qualifiers.
No, people, what you are getting is raw writing.
To be cheesy about the whole matter: I am nothing but a vessel for the creative lifesource; for she drips her nectar of craft onto my fingetips, and I am nothing but a rudderless slave to her whimsicality, her mercurial wind. Her name is Muse.
And Muse often says, "Fuck editing. Write, my dear, write."
Of course, I have to clean up her mess.
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