1. Lamott shot an arrow straight through the meaty part of my heart with her opening train of thought that concerns the wallowing hopelessness that accompanies writers faced with the prospect of a blank page. I battle similar fiends whenever I start writing. My self doubt and self loathing usually take the form of a pair twitching, bulging arms that reach out of my monitor and proceed to throttle me. From a third person perspective, I'll imagine, almost wistfully, the greased up conglomeration of sinew and ownage doing horrible, unforgivable things to my person. When my form. . . . . ceases to move I guess would be the right term, (Poor metaphysical me is always back for another round the next time duty calls) the limbs flex provacatively at whatever lense I'm watching this sad, sorry substitute for therapy through and disappear back from wence they came. Most say I need help; I just respond that there's nothing wrong with a little tough love.
-Max
