Foisting my story on the world – yet again

I have decided to give the reading [criticizing/hard-to-please] public one more finger by e-publishing the sequel to my semi-biography If I could only draw, and knew how to paint” that sells at for $1.99 [and thank you again, the four of you, for reading, finishing, and not asking for a refund].

“The Ethiopian”
picks up where the first story left off. It is a less edited, less semi-biographical, and more Ethiopian version of/than its predecessor. Those who do not mind the occassional grammatical error, and are willing to over-look the bizarre use of tenses, would find stuff to their liking. And, dare I say, a little of themselves – or what they left behind – in it.

For those of you who would want to know why I keep churning out ‘books’ nobody seems interested in reading, I do it because life is short [and can be made even shorter by all the psychopaths running around with guns in America]. And [because] I feel somebody has to say what I have to say even if the saying could use a bit of refinement.

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