AuthorPhoto_TomSpanbauerSo Tom, you have the EOB blues once again, yah? 

Some people call it a nervous breakdown. I call it EOB, End of Book. What else can you feel really, when you’ve created an entire world, created characters you loved, went to places you didn’t know existed, languished in these places. The fictional world is always more important, more dramatic, more real than ordinary life, your ordinary life.

Cover_ILovedYouMoreThe Maroni

What I’d like to do now is take the opportunity. To say what I couldn’t even think that Wednesday evening in Jeske’s class, 1985. The scariest thing about myself. If I were to have spoken it out loud.

I was impotent.

By that time of my life, my thirty-seventh year – heterosexual, bisexual, homosexual, top or bottom, threesomes, orgies with men and women, with a whip in my hand or chained to the radiator, whatever way two or more people can get together sexually. Drunk or stoned or otherwise fucked up. Hell, even when it was just me alone stone cold sober.

I couldn’t get it up.