I'm so uptight, I can't even write literary pornography for personal use. Not for publication. Not in any kind of digitally word-processed version-longhand, fer Christ's sakes! Zero chance anyone would ever see it or even be able to read my spidery handwriting if they did. I'm just too self-conscious. I'm an atheist, so it's not like I'm afraid of divine punishment. Even if God did exist-so what? Go ahead. Do your worst. The All Mighty zaps another bug. Whooptee-shit. What a hero. What a guy . . . you know what it is? What gets me so uptight? I know that whatever I would write would be embarrassingly trashy and contrived, so why waste the time and energy? Best to focus on productive endeavors. Ain't that a curse? No God, and yet the Protestant Work Ethic still kicks my ass . . . sighs elaborately . . .
