Cutting The Cord, a.k.a Why I Deactivated My Facebook Account

Part of writing these days, if you want to make any sort of career out of it, involves promotion. Self-promotion. The kind of promotion I hate. I’d rather tell you little stories here and there, drop a few witty lines from time to time, and then fade away into the background until the next brilliant story/thought/line occurs to me.

Unfortunately, that’s not the way things are done in today’s social media run world. If you’re a writer, you have to have an online presence. Twitter. Instagram, Facebook. That kind of crap.

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Tattoos And The People That Love Them (a.k.a. This has nothing to do with writing.)

I always liked tattoos.

My brother’s friend had two full sleeves, and a few on his chest and back. The running joke was, he couldn’t walk past a tattoo shop without stopping inside to get one.

An exaggeration, of course, but he did have a lot of tattoos. So many, they blended together on his arms into a swirl of Jackson Pollack-type images and colors.

I thought that was too many. I like tattoos where you can tell what the individual image is. It stands apart from the others, like a panel in a comic book. My brother’s friend had so many on his arms, they were a blur.

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