egg-on-my-face-itis

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I’m in the habit of saying and writing things I don’t even mean.

Or, I find, immediately upon saying or writing it—whatever it was—it isn’t nearly as true as I initially believed. I mean, I’ll be firmly convinced in my head. Totally. Completely. Utterly. But then, seeing it on the page—especially seeing it on the page—I’ll change my mind. Swear to God, nearly every third sentence scribbled down or keyboarded in, I’ll say, out loud, “You’re so full of shit.”

Though, I’ll leave it be if the potential is there to dramatically affect.

And, either that dramatic affecting is indeed occurring, or, as you’ve read everything below, you’ve spat right back at the monitor, “You’re so full of shit.”

And calling me out is, perhaps, indeed, all the joy there is in the reading of The FireVaney.

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