A Writer’s Constipation

Gemma waits patiently for Michael to return with an early dinner. Little does she know that none of it’s for her.
Well I’m here and there are no words to describe how beautiful it is. I am dog fucking tired from the move, but it’s hard to complain with views like this.
Earlier this month, I sort of went off on a tangent about the desert. I don’t think I meant to go on so long about it, but if there’s one thing I can do it’s beat around the bush.
Anyone who knows me knows I have a strange love for the high desert. I say strange only because many people may not see why something so hot and “barren” can be so beloved. To them I say they either haven’t spent the right kind of time there, or they’re probably already at peace with themselves.