First as a mention, I must skip the entry one three due to superstition, like a building of importunacy.
Second, a matter of utmost disenfranchised meant.
Since my stint as United States Poet Laureate I find my thoughts, patterns, and worldly verbosity becoming increasingly unintelligibly defined. I was divested of words which now spin about my crainial cavity in patterns so unforseeable as to be rendered capricious. In summation, I am prone to the cavernous form of gibberish I now complete. Where is the structure my life once bore strongly upon the camel's back? Am I even in a legible range?
Recently, I was requested upon the whisk of my sister, Genevieve, who makes altered prints of natural dilemmas, to attend a session of therapeautic discussion. In the beginning I was unfortunately uninterested but I have found the silver light at the cloud's end.
It is in many recompenses that a fine discovery of psychiatry may suffer in severe cognitive problems. As you can see, these therapists do find. In discussing with a speaker I may discover new and cranial realms. I am up for a Nobel Prize in this respect (not yet LOL) and wish to discover more.
Cheers and wish me luck in this new and cost-expensive endeavour!
Jonas R. Dickinson
P.S. No response as of yet from my managers and producers at Carnegie Hall. Sadly, I am on tenterhooks. Perhaps Monday shall make my day!
Must be Wainwright week
1 week ago