I’m going through ink. The Cross is on its third cartridge. (I will admit, one I killed before actually starting, because the pen deserved to be making words and my hand deserved to be using the pen to do it.)<\/p>\n
Today’s is the shortest. It starts like this:<\/p>\n
Speed. Speed is important. If you can’t get there swiftly, you might as well not go.<\/p>\n
Which is, of course, borne from my recent interest in fast cars. I blame the UK’s Top Gear<\/em>. It’s entirely their fault. I now want a Morgan.<\/p>\n The story continues in an odd amalgamation of first and second person. I’m talking to you. You’re doing the driving. You’ve got a bluesy soundtrack. (I’m not specific, but I’m thinking probably ZZ Ward<\/a>.<\/p>\n When it ends, you’re still racing down the highway, perhaps into a sunset, though of course there’s a promise at the end that’s probably not what you would’ve expected from me. Yet inevitable.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"