Sitting down to write this is the longest stretch I’ve managed in two days, and it’s because I’m on a deadline.
I steered clear of anything creative, preferring the safety of science over nuance. I lived my life with one finger on my own pulse.
Forget the muse. My attention thief looks like Harpo Marx. He’s the guy honking his horn or grabbing my leg, whether I’m sitting at the computer or under a tree.
Got my diagnosis. I’m a 'sucker for irrelevancy.'
Every time you move, you hear doors snapping shut in your brain.
