Come what may

Sometimes, you can't write. Other times, you just can't read.

Usually it's best to accept this fact, put the books down, and go outside to stare at the trees, or turn the lights off and gaze vacantly at the moon.

The cycle adheres to a known trajectory, which usually ends in a long tail of disenchantment that takes some breaching.

Currently I'm trying to crack up that long tail with Monstress, which I bought at City Lights and which brought me to tears only last evening.

Give up, you say? Try something else? No, no. To abort is impossible. This is the only way. Come what may, we must press on.