Quick Bio : [ blackpearl ]
Life Story:College student
I come from a dinky hick town so small you would not believe. I had a rather rotten childhood, nothing dramatically headline-making bad but a general stinkiness that lingers on me even now.
I fell in love with an older man at the age of twelve -- he was over half a century older than me. I would have run off to the Caribbean with him if he asked. He never asked. I'm still in love with him. He's dead. I've been going out with another older man -- though not as old as the first -- for four years now and am going to marry him.
I started college at fourteen, if you'll believe it, and I have more psychological problems than I know what to do with. I'm a history major, aspiring to be a social worker and an author who will find missing people.
Why I Write:
Be always a writer. Nothing else matters: that is the only question. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time weighing on your shoulders and crushing you to the earth, be a writer continually.
Write about what? About wine, or poetry, or virtue, as you will. But be a writer.
And if sometimes, on the stairs of a palace, or on the green side of a ditch, or in the dreary solitude of your own room, you should awaken and the muse be half or wholly slipped away from you, ask of the wind, or of the wave, or of the star, or of the bird, or of the clock, or whatever flies, or sighs, or rocks, or sings, or speaks, ask what hour it is; and the wind, wave, star, bird, clock, will answer you: 'It is the hour to write! Be a writer, if you would not be martyred slaves of Time; write continually! About wine, about poetry, or about virtue, as you will.