I'm trying to participate in NaNoWriMo this year. Unsuccessfully, I might add. I've written all of 350 words since Sunday when I finally signed up. My problem? My mom won't leave me the hell alone. Every couple of minutes she has to ask a question. Or know what I'm doing. Or something. Then there's the fighting. Always with the fighting
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I really think I'm going to write an autobiography one day. I have some good stories that happened in my life. Seriously...HEROIN addict. How many people can say that and still have some brain about them. Ginsberg aside, of course.
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