When things are good the work doesn’t come as fast because I don’t need the therapy of pulling soul out and then moving the pieces around to form words and poems and prose. This goodness is dangerous because when my soul is intact I can look at it as one whole object and who wants to be confronted with all of that at once?


White wine and songs by Wavves. When I don’t know what to write I look around and steal from the world around. That’s not a terrible idea, but when all that you come up with sounds like a recipe and the Facebook statuses of a teenager, then you know that you aren’t creating works of art that are at all worthwhile.


We are on better terms. We ate nachos and drank beer today and it was just like old times. Old times that make you think in sepia tone and swell up with warm, fuzzy feelings. Yes, it was exactly like that. Only there were all these feelings below the surface that neither of us could bring voice to. So I had another beer.


This is cheaper than therapy. I need to go back to therapy. This has been an easy update of my life, and has made me feel all the better, but it’s time to get back to work.

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