A pox upon these these accursed new years, with their positively pristine possibilities, their perfectly positioned potentialities, their perennial promise of power and prestige! A large pox, too! A medium or small pox won't do in this case! For already has the chubby-cheeked 2009 cherub changed into a chuckling, cheerful Chucky chillingly chopping at my chances for change.

Um.

Say, would you please excuse that? I'm terribly sorry for it. I have no idea what that was. I'm having a perfectly fine year. In the past week I've written over 30,000 publishable words. That's 75% of an entire trade paperback book.

Oh, [unacceptably un-Christian word]. I knew this was going to happen.

I've broken my brain.

Bummer. Bad beginning. Boy, I better begin bouncing back before blindly and blithely becoming beyond the bounds best

Please help me.


Copiously cum-compassion comment, comrade.

Even though at this point it's probably useless, join my Facebook page.