Sometimes, the best I can do is to just not talk. To bite my tongue and hold my breath and walk away. Preferably outside, where there’s something I can kick.
I don’t follow Twitter links very often. But when I do, it’s because the article title is compelling.
I drove to the nearest library branch tonight to drop off my kids’ books. I hate to admit it, but I swore like a sailor as I drove away from the night drop box. Why? Because I realized after the fact that I had opened the metal door with my exposed hand.
The last time I wrote an article for OneRealMan.com, it was four years ago. I told you that artists can only dig so deep until their wells run dry. We are finite beings, after all.