Hello, Failure

Of all the enemies of literature, success is the most insidious

Thursday, March 13, 2003

Failure of the Day: Rain

Ah, Irony. Only after I move away from Seattle do I have my run-in with idiopathic precipitation. I finished work early and decided to take my daily walkabout in the Haight. I took the 38 Geary to Masonic and was waiting for the 43 when BOOM! Thunder, lightning, wind, rain, the whole show. I had to turn around and come home. Now I'm stuck at home watching middle-aged, rich, white, male celebrities debate the war while a middle-aged, rich, white, male anchor feigns objectivity. And it's doubly gross because the guy arguing my side is Bill Maher, who has NO credibility as far as I'm concerned, ever since he sold it to the loathesome PETA (which will certainly taste my wrath in a future blog entry).

I can only hope I will spend at least some of this afternoon writing. The mantra: "Writers are not people who think about writing. Writers are people who write." makes me physically grimace.


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