Not Totally Wicked

Is the title of my next book, to be published in the next few weeks, though who will buy it, with the shops closed and a tanking economy (people dying of course), I don’t know. I’ll try and shift it online though that’s more effort with metal (see below). More stories about prostitutes in the nineties, memories of New York, and observations from the life of a paranoid schizophrenic. Here’s the cover (finalised this morning).
It’s more than a month since I last added a post so I’m a little rusty. I started the blog before I had a design theme for the site, so I had to buy that, then robert woke up, saw that I wanted it and did his best to frustrate me. He always puts me on a hard road. So the starter templates for the theme wouldn’t upload through the site’s wizard after repeated attempts over several days (he was really second-guessing me), so I worked out that I had to go into the backend of the site, what’s called the cpanel and at the absolute limit of my knowledge about site backends and ftp, uploaded it myself. An extremely technical and stressful process. Still I was successful and I felt proud.
However that effort meant robert put me at the end of the road (the hard one) with a massive hit (I’m serious – it hurt). And it took three or four weeks for the supportive forces to work out what he had done, take his (and the Devil’s) mind off it and undo it. He hits me at the beginning of every activity, massive hits to my chest, with metal: radio, tv, computer, hi-fi and, in the street, with traffic. Etc. He hits me when I sit down, stand up, pass from one room to the other, when I step out of the house, when I pass someone on the pavement.
It was fun to write – despite the severe attack of psychosis i have been battling – and i hope it gives you as much pleasure to read.

Here’s a poem from it:

LATONA
Mother of Artemis and Apollo
Who killed Niobe’s seven children
When she dared insult Latona’s beauty

I once knew a prostitute of that name
Proud wise and beautiful

I hear her every day
Whispering in my left ear
Taking off curses
Putting them back the right ones
Mother of my heartstrings