THE BEAUTIFUL VIEW FROM NEAR THAT ONE PLACE, REMEMBER?
I smell breakthrough.

STEP 1: PEEL RIBS OPEN
It's difficult to post in an election year when the Future of Civilization is at stake. I mean, I could post about politics, but so many other people, do it so much better.

It's the busy season. It's been the busy season for a good two months now. And there's no end in sight. Does that mean I haven't had time to write? No. But it does mean that I have had plenty of opportunity to make excuses not to write. And I love excuses. They are much better than results. Despair.

I am not trying very hard. In winter, I imagined summer: sitting in the shade filling the pages of my Moleskine. Then summer came and I imagined winter: sitting on a stool in a coffee shop window filling the pages of my Moleskine. I obsess about this caricature of The Writer—how can I become him? I am better at imagining myself in positions than at positioning myself. I do not own a Moleskine. Or a Vespa. Or an old leather satchel. Vintage shoes look silly on me. I am boring and nondescript. And self-effacing. I can dissolve into ether. I'm barely there as it is.

I'm also a bluffer. A snake in the grass. A liar and a coward. A person who makes things up. I imagine others wondering what I'm thinking. It makes me feel better about myself and my thoughts. It makes me feel better about not releasing those thoughts. I never have to face the possibility that they are trite. They can be whatever you think they might be were I to release them.

It might sound like I am in some sort of mood. But I'm not. I'm in no mood whatsoever.

HEY
Read Olbermann.