The Past Is A Cupboard

When I'm Writing, My Neural Pathways Get Blocked. I Can't Read. I Can Barely Hold A Conversation Without Forgetting Words And Names. I Wish I Could Wear The Same Clothes And Eat The Same Food Each Day.

If They Would All Sleep All The Time She Wouldn't Mind Being Their Mother.

Sometimes I Would Like To Cry. I Close My Eyes. Why Weren't We Designed So That We Can Close Our Ears As Well? (perhaps Because We Would Never Open Them.) Is There Some Way That I Could Accelerate My Evolution And Develop Earlids?

Sometimes It Was Harder To Change The Past Than It Was The Future.

Alternate History Fascinates Me, As It Fascinates All Novelists, Because 'what If?' Is The Big Thing.