Post

I came within a few hours of dying last Thanksgiving. It’s taken these last eleven months to get back to writing. The previous project, the Neon Church, was both 1) undiscoverable and 2) a reminder of what was different before the blood clot almost killed me.

2) I am almost entirely the same. The clot was in my abdomen, not my skull or nearby. But whether stress, or whatever, there have been impacts. Not only physical, which is the most obvious. Writing’s harder.

Sometimes words aren’t there.

I reach for them. But it doesn’t matter. You can reach into an empty closet all day. You’ll never lay your hand on what you’re looking for.