Sorry for the silence, friends. I haven’t been in the proper state of mind lately to post something worth reading up here. After this kind of dry spell lasts for more than two weeks, I start to get nervous. I feel like a desperate rent-a-clown at a children’s party scrambling to put on a show for an entire afternoon with only twenty minutes’ worth of material. Maybe I’ll just squeak this red rubber nose another dozen times and see how that goes.

Anyhow, in an effort to keep my blog alive and interesting for anybody inclined to visit this sleepy patch of gray on the internet, I started digging back into my old writing journals for some previously forgotten gem. I didn’t come up with much this time around, but I did walk away from this exercise with a renewed sense of humility in the face of my undeniable lameness. I mean, goddamn, I actually used to write like that? I actually thought that sanctimonious load of crap I was working on was good when I wrote it ten years ago? I look back at my feeble attempts at poetry and prose from the past, and I just want to approach me in an alternate dimension and punch myself in the face.

I hope I encounter myself as a five-year-old in this alternate dimension so that I can throw a punch without having to worry about any meaningful retaliation. That will teach me for wasting my own time with that unpublishable crap.