October 2nd, 2017 – 9:01pm PST:

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

Hemingway is a writer I’ve quoted here before. No matter my state of mind, I find solace in his words; those small nuggets of truth and practicality help define the borders of my own small universe. I see my place in it, and accept my small role in the great galactic ballroom floor we flutter across in darkness.

In the last few months I’ve been writing very little here. Certain events made me realize that it hasn’t been because I’ve simply been more busy or preoccupied, although it’s true that I have been. Ultimately I’d forgotten Hemingway’s greatest lesson, and shied away from writing anything personal or heartfelt. That was a mistake, and one I knew better than to make. It’s always better to vent steam in small increments than to let it build.

…I could make a fart joke right now, but that’s not really my thing.