Apparently, tonight was on.
He wondered if he felt lucky
I feel like there is another version of me somewhere out there living my life the way I should.
It was better than listening to the world surrounding him.
There was work to be done. There was a past to forget.
He’s not a bad guy, just made a shit-ton of bad decisions in his time.
There's a book here somewhere.
This world isn’t made for people who get behind.
Ever have one of those stretches where nothing coherent ever takes place? I'm in one of those now. And it's been a long one. I want to write, but nothing concrete is appearing in my mind. I've read my previous stuff, but nothing is sparking any ideas. I finished reading "Babel-17" by Samuel Delany. I …
“I left and didn’t look back.”