Writing fucking sucks.
There’s just too much shit going on and I’ve never wanted to be a productive person. I like the idea of being lazy. But that, ironically, takes work. Between a family, starting a new career, having a book coming out, and managing my crippling gambling addiction, I’m just not feeling it anymore.
In times like these, I like to think back to the time when I was leaving a Halloween party somewhere in San Francisco…dressed as Captain Kirk…and a dude was tripping balls on a street corner. His arms were extended. “I just want to grow here, like a tree,” he proclaimed, “but they won’t let me.”
I wonder what that guy is up to these days.