Up to eleven

Nov 04, 04 | 1:26 am

I want to start writing again but I don't know how. I'm afraid to. Writing is an act of hope. And I am afraid to wish for too much.

Karen, remember when you said I fear success? That I think I will somehow drop dead if everything is suddenly going well? You were right. I ended up in the hospital on Halloween with a needle in my spine, proving your very point.

I thought about you, laying on the gurney. I thought about us being spies for the Mossad. In my defense, I was shot full of fentanyl at the time.