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Does every writer have to deal with this shit? Or do I just live in an area with a high rate of crazy people who think novelists are all writing about them?

Does every writer have to deal with this shit? Or do I just live in an area with a high rate of crazy people who think novelists are all writing about them? I had a weird encounter today. A woman comes over to me and starts yelling at me saying:  "You gotta stop writing down everything I do! I don't need you chronicallizing my life! You gotta get over this obsession with taking notes of my entire life!"  Then continues on her way, leaving me to ask myself: What is she talking about? When have I ever written down anything she did? How am I chronicalizing her life? When have I taken notes on her life? I know her name but I know nothing about her or her life, so how am I obsessing with her? I am so confused. She's done this before. Same woman. Same accusation. Frequently. As in she yells these same accusations at me 3 or 4 times a year for well over a decade now. And every time she does it I am always left wondering the same questions. What is she talking about? Why does...
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Crazy Woman Just Attacked - No Clue Why or Who She is

Me and Ben just got attacked by a weird crazy woman on Railroad Ave. (The dirt road behind South Street that crosses Main St, Cutts St, and James St). It was around 10:30pm (so pitch black on a street that has no street lights)  and i was doing my nightly relearning to walk exercise which i do five times a day, which involves me standing behind my wheelchair and pushing it, to try to regain nerve and muscle function in my legs. so I walk extremely slow. The distance it takes most people to walk in ten minutes, takes me well over two hours to walk that same distance. Most people can walk down Railway Ave and back in under five minutes. It takes me forty five minutes to get to the end and back. We were at the corner of Main and Railroad Ave, where the tar ends and turns to dirt, and my wheelchair wheel was stuck in the big pot hole that is there and there are no street lights, plus I am legally blind (can only see eight inches, so I can not even see the ground or my feet). We are bot...

Head Cheese: A Story of Cauliflower, Cruelty, and Carnage

| Did you know Drabbles are no longer welcomed on Medium? My Daily Drabbles are now here on Blogger because Drabbles are no longer allowed on Medium - this link tells you what Medium changed and where you can go if you are a drabble writter looking for a platform that still allows Drabbles - there are not many - most platforms do NOT allow 100 word stories! Medium used to be the number one place for publishing drabbles and getting paid for tthem, but as of April 4, 2025 Medium has banned drabbles from distribution. Full details HERE |  Head Cheese: A Story of Cauliflower, Cruelty, and Carnage The snow fell in slow, sharp flakes. Shards of comet glass landed on the ground, falling from the sky, glittering against the violet glow of the Fractured Moon. Quaraun stood beneath the awning of the 1968 VW Bus, his foot long rabbitty ears twitching against the wind. His opulent pink silks shimmered beneath his feathered cloaks, chains of silver draping his shoulders, blood crusti...