That Was What Gospel Was Meant To

... Survival Is The Least Of My Desires.

Hunger Makes You Restless. You Dream About Food - Not Just Any Food, But Perfect Food, The Best Food, Magical Meals, Famous And Awe-inspiring, The One Piece Of Meat, The Exact Taste Of Buttery Corn, Tomatoes So Ripe They Split And Sweeten The Air, Beans So Crisp They Snap Between The Teeth, Gravy Like Mother's Milk Singing To Your Bloodstream.

I'm Still Very Blunt: If You Want To Be A Writer, Get A Day Job. The Fact That I Have Actually Been Able To Make A Living At It Is Astonishing.

I Need You To Do More Than Survive. As Writers, As Revolutionaries, Tell The Truth, Your Truth In Your Own Way. Do Not Buy Into Their System Of Censorship, Imagining That If You Drop This Character Or Hide That Emotion, You Can Slide Through Their Blockades. Do Not Eat Your Heart Out In The Hope Of Pleasing Them.

Delia Picked At The Raw Sores Of Her Conscience...drunk Or Sober, Delia Lived In The Small Town In Her Heart, Ignoring The World In Which All Her Love Had Turned To Grief.