Music always does it. This time it’s “Lou Weed” by the Dandy Warhols. Not sure why, but their songs lift me, and the words start flowing. I sing along and my fingers fly. Maybe I should play music more often. The world needs more music; and gardening; and flowers; and cute dogs, and butchered semicolons.

Tomorrow I start. Had the idea for ages and put it off so long. It’s about time I got back to work. Enough of this slovenly waste of my life on the Internet. Let’s see, how many unfinished drafts of novels do I have? At least three that should have been finished long ago. My strategy will be this: I will start a totally new draft of another novel (that has been stewing for quite some time), and if that succeeds, I can go back and finish the other three. The only concern I have is that I do not want the text infected with AI in any shape or form. I do type online in Google docs so I want to make sure that no machine entities make any changes in my text. I want my writing to be the total product of my flawed mind and nothing else. That is my promise to you, no AI bullshit in my writing, you will get only the best gonzo garbage from me.