Home. Closing in on milestones. Submissions.

I'm home from Maryland. It took me three tries to type that previous sentence, I kept spelling Maryland wrong. The show was fantastic. Tons of cars equivalent to a mortgage. Others drove like mortgages: loud, fast, unassuming. Waves were tall from the wind coming from Florida. People parked their cars in the sand and let the sink low enough for the oil pans to rest on a layer of sea shells and sea grass. 

People were drunk. I was drunk. Jager, Blue Moon, Yuengling. Not Bud Light. Everyone had fun. I slept on a wicker couch without blankets. I bought shirts from vendors and talked with people through hand gestures and poorly emulated sounds of a VR6 engine. But that doesn't bother anyone, they understand the garble. 

I'm finalizing some poems and flash pieces to send out to publications. Cool, huh? You should be doing this too, it's very important. And hey, somebody might end up loving your writing. That'd really make your day.