February 04, 2011
I wished, once, for a time machine. I was instead gifted with the present. . .and no return receipt.
Like a lot of writers – hell, like a lot of people – I spend a good amount of time in my head, wading through thoughts and worries and ideas and concerns. I imagine a smaller, miniature, version of me in fishing waders with a fly rod trying to catch hold of the things slipping by.