Six years later, thicker beard, looser composure

It’s been nearly six whole goddamn years since my last post, so I don’t know what the exact circumstances, causes, or logistics of my “blogging” sabbatical were. I think it may have had something to do with belligerence on my part, maybe I was an asshole or something, or called too many women cunts. So I’ll just… keep this post simple and seam-burstingly full of life updates.

Since 2013, I’ve gained a lot of weight. Not Thor: Endgame weight. And not necessarily emotional weight. But enough to make the scale tip closer to 190 pounds than it ever has during my tenure as a person. I’m healthy, according to my employer-supplied medical/bio screening thing, lots of good cholesterols and very little bad ones. In the last six years I’ve held the same job for almost five of them (a personal record), been engaged twice to the same woman (still currently), and I live with my fiance in a lesser-loved part of town with our tuxedo cat Hank. I’ve just published my 18th book, and I am currently staying up nights and days working on a 19th, 20th, and 21st (two of them sequels, and one of them another collection of poetry, all due sometime in 2020) all at the same time because clearly I’m a fucking idiot. Another neat little factoid about my current life, is that I’ve cut back severely on drinking (to some of you that may come as a shock), not that I think I ever will cut it out completely, but I think my liver’s perpetual frown has begun to unscrew itself into a semi-sideways smile, but that could be complete and utter balderdash.

So, that’s just kind of the tip of the great white penis, there’s obviously more but I only have two hands and one alone is enough. This blogging thing hasn’t been a thing for me in quite some time so, this may just be a middle-of-the-night accident that never happens again, or at least not for another six years at the end of which I’ll probably be announcing having been diagnosed with liver cancer, gonorrhea, and of course, my divorce. Or maybe rays of sunshine will poop out of the clouds and blind me with blessings, the world is a toss up these days, like a good, sweet little girl’s ankles high in the sky, or restrained with respect because the neighbor is psychosomatic and strange, bombastic noises upset them.

Love,
Dave Matthes

ps… buy my newest novel “No Old Souls at Fury Tavern”, it has very little to do with much of anything good, like heading out into the night in search of some strange sexual experience… which actually is good. So go out there, strut your bare calves, get fucked, and then for the come-down… take a gaze through my pages. Or tear them out and use them for the cleanup.

About Dave Matthes

Writer and author of poetry and prose. Self-published author of eighteen books, with poetry published by Paper and Ink Zine, Analog Submission Press, and Hickathrift Press.
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