Not That It Was Ever All That Funny

I have been attempting to write from my hammock everyday after work this week (because it gets dark so unnaturally late these days) but everything is either really dark or really dark plus really angry. Mostly due to my realization that there isn’t a single good to decent person in this entire world. (Where’s the humor in that?)

While almost everything I’ve ever written is about rape or unhappy childhoods or people being broken-hearted and lost it usually had a twinge of hope or humor (I hate that word) or light at the end of the tunnel bullshit. Not anymore. It’s just riddled with darkness. 

So this book project has been halted. Yet again.