No, not you. Or you over there. No, no. The person who drives me crazy is...
...this guy. Who is not so much on the next street as right across the *$#&ing street. Who I wrote about 1 year and 2 months ago. Who is STILL out there with is g-damn, m%&$*f@(#*ing chainsaw almost every single weekend. Every weekend, for 14+ months. At this point, I think he's just chopping up twigs with the damn thing. There can't be anything else left to cut.
Seriously. Thank God for headphones and internet radio, because otherwise I would've lost my mind at this point. They say good fences make good neighbors, but in this day and age, I think good headphones come in much, much handier. They might not make good neighbors, but they make less psychotic ones.
*Wanders away, muttering incomprehensibly*.
If you don't feel that you are possibly on the edge of humiliating yourself, of losing control of the whole thing, then possibly what you are doing isn't very vital. If you don't feel like you are writing somewhat over your head, why do it? If you don't have some doubt of your authority to tell this story, then you are not trying to tell enough. --John Irving