It's none of their business that you have to learn how to write. Let them think you were born that way.
Ernest Hemingway
Alternating between keyboard and keyboard, because I'm trapped up to my eyeballs again by the muck that lies in wait in the oft-traveled wasteland of periodic blank, staring again at the formless mystery that is the 'wall'. I should, I would think, by now be quite familiar with the territory, which must be a rather large, albeit unmapped area, because so many of the routes I travel lead right to this place. But on the other hand, many a journey has taken me far away from here. That happens just often enough to dull my memory of the dank putridity of this godless place, where the mind is severed from all its connective tissue. Where DELETE reigns supreme, lording its will as it destroys the possibility of congruence. Where sentences trail off into the distances...
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