Goldfish

Goldfish Is A Hard Novella To Sum Up. Following My Failure To Complete 50k In One November In 2011, I Succeeded By Allowing Myself To Write Ad Hoc, Create A Collage, And Wax Poetical Across Every Page. Though You Will Find Merely A Sober, Chain Smoking Mind In A World Where Nobody Has A Name, But Me, J.r.; As I Wrote In Starbucks In Wellington Circle The Details Of A Book That Is About The Train Ride To The Wellington Circle Starbucks And The Ensuing Work Night, To Write The Book Itself: Sketched On The Train Ride Home, A Shit Show, You Know; To Try To Ennoble Such A Life, To And Fro, Back And Forth, Nothing But Dreams And Coffee And Dream Smoke Trailing As I Drifted Wraithlike Up The Stairs Realizing Of Course As Told By A Somnambulist Who Visits Me Purple Lidded Once More A Goldfish Flying Solo Peering Through The Funhouse Gass At The World Outside Develops A Soul Of Ice Snot To Be Glared At By Normal People With Bugged Out Eyes.