Dude, I've been here working on a new post this entire time! Day after day, toiling away over a pit of red-hot words, picking them out to use in sculpting this literary masterpiece. Clutching these searing letter jumbles with nary a bit cloth between them and my palm, listening them sizzle as I hurriedly place them down upon the page. And how I would love to just let them go. To let these fresh words fall down and hit the floor and start a fire.
But I don't. And I continue on with my post-craft, aching and weary but never ceasing!
Okay, maybe I ceased a few times for a soda break. And then a sandwich break. Not to mention the dance breaks.
Alright, so I'm just working on it off and on between bouts of slothfulness and playing Persona. It's not my fault, The Answer is real stinking hard.
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Some quote:
Quote:
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"Yes, okay. Fine. I like her. I like her quite a bit actually. She’s… everything I’m not. She’s brave, she’s moral, she’s good with a gun… she’s got regenerative abilities. What’s not to like?".
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