If I Retain Any Freshness Of Approach,

Editing Is Just Ongoing. I Don't Count Drafts, Or Know What Would Fully Constitute A Draft. But I Try To Fix As I Go. And There's Always More To Fix.

Plots Are For Dead People.

[t]he Normal And The Everyday Are Often Amazingly Unstoppable, And What Is Unimaginable Is The Cessation Of Them. The World Is Resilient, And, No Matter What Interruptions Occur, People So Badly Want To Return To Their Lives And Get On With Them. A Veneer Of Civilization Descends Quickly, Like A Shining Rain. Dust Is Settled.

The Affectionate Farce I Make Of Him Ignores The Ways I Feel His Lack Of Love For Me. But We Are Managing.

Nothing's A Joke With Me. It Just All Comes Out Like One.