I think a writer should publish his own book
and give it away. Sell it at book fairs, writers conferences,
poetry readings, book-release parties (I release you, Release 2),
street fairs like Oktoberfest, don't let them steal your awning,
the Arts and Crafts Festival in Fairhope, Alabama. Get it done
professionally, but do it yourself. Then you own it. You haven't
exchanged ownership for money. I may be a whore, I may have my price,
but I haven't reached it yet. I'm still holding out. Will I make it 40 years?
They like fresh meat. Youth, vigor. Juices. I'm dried up. I sag, I list,
my hair is white and my teeth have cavities. I look like a meth addict.
An old bitch, gone in the teeth. A botched civilization. The poster boy
for marketplace censorship. The Last Tasmanian. The Last Tasmanian
was stuffed, and put in the British Museum. POD is not DIY. You cede
too much. Anything you have to do, you have to go on and do yourself.
Keep it in the family. Stick with your friends.