Whatever the hell she wanted to; what part about the name do you misinterpret?
Look, folks, here's a bit more Ol' Bird His-story. Because I'm writing, and I'm male.
I STARTED WRITING BECAUSE..
Let's see.. No; let's start at the beginnings.
Attempted a book when I was 16. Alas, I was 16... Attentive to whuh...
Some poetry. One published somewheres... Dark, but always hopeful.
Went to prison. Still full of hope, because SHE was standing by me. She Always Would.
She quit writing. From a 6x weekly rite of mail call to NADA. Sancho, he'd come a-callin'...
"TWO LONG YEARS OF TRYING INTO THE WIND THEY'RE BLOWN..."
So accustomed was I to this daily rite (write? right/ RIGHT! It's The End Of Th........) and yet not ready to deny reality and glom on to network programming, I opted to sit with pen and paper in hand, just as I had done damn near 730 days concurrent...
I began writing. Label it as you will:
JOURNALING ["um... Should I have a point here; because, y'know, really"...]
Sat with a pen in hand and a notepad in lap and continued to crank out two pages per day legal size, front and back.
It was my routine. It is what I did. Lest I spend all my time reading Ludlum and so vastly improving vocabulary that yon minions be said of "let them eat cake..."
So I wrote.
A lots of wordses.
And then years later, Uncle Skip introduced me to blogging. Where, as you can plainly see, I perigrinate much less piquantly... 'Cause a bein' shy, an' all...
So I still write. Sometimes poetry.
Sometimes pornoetry.. Y'know, fukken rimin stuff. Y'know...
But folks seriously, this old bird w/o a pen in hand... he'd be like two sitting in the proverbial pesticidal-treated bush: SICK.
Sure am glad at the very least this provides hours of self-entertainment (writing it, Nimrods! You think I'm so bold or egocentric as to read my own stuff! Humphh! Y'all the ones with nothing better to do. I'm busy @ your site, learnin' helpful stuff an' such...)
So see, even when (not IF, folks; WHEN) you proclaimed 'followers' stop proclaiming, I'll continue writing.
For two reasons.
Number One-- It is part of who I am
numero deux-- My Mommy Said.
( That Allie Thought That...)