I promised myself and a few friends who were kind enough to listen–and kinder still to pretend to care–that I would write, that I would, as I said it, “spew crap,” if necessary to keep the words flowing.

Um, yeah, there’s another promise I’ve broken. But here I am, attempting to unbreak it.

You might rightly ask, “why?” Well, you might not ask, but every time I start something like this, I do. And that’s another story. But, well, let’s just say “one might ask” and pretend that that “one” isn’t me.

One answer is that it’s cheap therapy, and, indeed, it’s easier–no matter how difficult I might make it–logistically than finding and committing to a therapist.

So here we are “healing” or at least being sick more expressively and maybe more creatively–certainly more verbosely.

And I promise, a lot of this will be crap. So far, so good, right?