“Slippin’ Into Myth” by Richard F. Yates

[I wrote this bit a few days ago at the print shop… —RFY]

As this dreadful year nears its close, I sit on a metal folding chair and try to catch my breath (and decompress my back). After doing battle with a pressure washer and a dozen (maybe not that many, but they were BIG) aluminum devils, I need to breathe. I, of course, used chemical warfare during the battle to try to wrangle the fiends into submission—and there were severe casualties taken by both sides in the struggle. (I may never be able to look at the color, lemon-yellow, the same way ever again.) The war continues…

—Richard F. Yates
(Primitive Thoughtician and Grand Hoohaa of The P.E.W.)


About richardfyates

Compulsive creator of the bizarre and absurd. (Artist, writer, poet, provocateur...)
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