the rest I leave to the poor...

Rabelais said in his will "I have nothing. I owe much. The rest I leave to the poor."

While I respect the profundity of that statement, I am too attentive to my legacy to do such a thing. So, I am re-crafting my last will and testament.

Why? Because if I were to die in this moment, the disposition of all my creative works would undoubtably become a carrion feast for various creditors, most notably my first ex-wife, and I know she would sooner burn my writings than let anyone else be lauded for their inspiration. My second ex wouldn't know what to do with them, not out of malignity, but just because it never held her interest (quick, Ann, name the titles of three of my eight books, without peeking.) Nancy I would trust, but there is no guarantee she would take to the task. Brigit has her own baggage. Alisha? I thought of it, but she hasn't exactly touched base with me in this millenium. Karla? No. The Panther? Are you out of your mind? My sons are too young at this time, my daughter too apathetic towards me on even her best days. I find myself in a Picasso pose, virtually Henry Plantagenet without the armies or the mistress.

So, to safeguard my writings, aside from my abuse of the internet is such a way that guarantees the at least minimal survival of my works, I have begun laying new rails in the mass driver of thought and inheritance. This is to ensure their proper survival and that my true heirs get their deserved slice of the cake I needed. Who are my true heirs? (insane cackle)

I've taken out a life insurance policy, large enough to pay most or all of my debts if I pass before the next high tide. Unlikely, but that's the purpose of life insurance.

I've negotiated (sometimes with earnest, honest purpose, other times with guile) with those who held some aspect of control over my works so that I am, again, the full admiral of the fleet of works. I have begun a master cataloging of my works, to dwarf the two previous efforts. We have a general sense, but for various reasons, it would be good to have a master file.

And what becomes of my rights when I am gone? The vast majority of people will not know until the reading of the will.

Wait and see. But, don't hold your breath, there may not be enough time for all the roses, but I have a few good laps of the pool left in me, more if I take care of myself and find someone sane to share my life with (eccentric: good. insane: bad)

EJ is chomping at the bit to spill the beans about the next book. Let him bleed at the gums, if he so much as squeaks in morse code the title I will lash him to a turnip truck and send him off the bridge into the mighty Monongahela.

I have finally decided on what I will do on August 17th at the Arts Festival. (truly insane cackle...wheezing...)

I wonder who will be the last woman I kiss before I die? My, won't she have a place in the universe of my readers?