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There is No Flame, There is nobody to Admire,

There is no reason to Sweat, Fuck it all, I will not perspire,

Given no Good Reason, I feel this Focal Season, And Sense a Global Treason,

Two, And two, And three, Again,

If you see it at all, Tell your fucking friends. Death be done, And death be did, And death happened to all them kids,

You, And You, And You, Alone, Are responsible, For what is,

You and you and you Alone, Are Responsible For The Kids

Down and Deep Dig Again Shovel And Trowel Till The END

There is No Flame, There is nobody to Admire, There is no reason to Sweat, Fuck it all, I will not perspire, Given no Good Reason, I feel this Focal Season, And Sense a Global Treason, Two, And two, And three, Again, If you see it at all, Tell your fucking friends. Death be done, And death be did, And death happened to all them kids, You, And You, And You, Alone, Are responsible, For what is, You and you and you Alone, Are Responsible For The Kids Down and Deep Dig Again Shovel And Trowel Till The END

(post is archived)

[–] 0 pt

Are you talking about the Occupant?

I lost my current version of that manuscript by losing the computer I had it written on in a bar slightly before lockdown.

Maybe I should just try to rewrite it.

[–] 1 pt

Are you talking about the Occupant?

That might have been it. Knowing me I probably saved it somewhere as a screenshot because the history of what we read and write is the history of our thoughts.

Fucking pity that you lost it though. If I ever clean up all my data I'll keep an eye out for the first copy.

Rewrites usually turn out better in hindsight. Though I've lost a few good ones to interruptions or random people who tried to talk to me after the first time I told them to shut the fuck up I'm trying not to lose the thread of a thought. Then they do that thing where they're like "wait what?" like they just have to ask you to explain. And in the process of deciding whether to explain it, or tell them to shut the fuck up again, the thread is lost.

Lost many more to moments where it came to me as I was falling asleep, and I chased the thread right into sweet oblivion or said "uh fuck it."

Lot of people I talked to lost em to storage (my mothers entire set of short stories and poems she wrote, save for one), my sisters first book she wrote too. Never had the stamina for prose, I admire anyone who does.

Some shit-eater who divorced and let us keep anything left in his garage, had junked his wifes entire collection of original poems and writing. Charity and pettiness all in a single act. Digitized most of those. They're pretty good technically, if a bit dry.