Another day ending in ‘y‘ reminds me how fucking boring sobriety is.
Ten weeks and two days before the deadline. Shit.
Writing is like a fucking apocryphal decease: nobody really gives a shit about it anymore, yet popular culture still for some ungodly reason idealizes it.
Most writers were usually assholes – almost exclusively even more so than I; the degree relative to the talent they possessed. Yet the women still giggled and blushed and fell into their beds, only to inevitably leave both parties lonely later on.
So do anything else with your lives, if you can, kids! I hear that nursing programs are a hot ticket nowadays.