Some days are harder than others.
Some days are made for terrible metaphors about pain and suffering and their relationship to the tragedy of life as we know it.
Some days are made for the kind of poetry that we write and Never Show Anyone Else. Ever.
Some days inspire novels and films and abstract art where everyone dies in vaguely cubic shapes.
Some days are days that we carry inside ourselves for years, burrowing in directions we never anticipated.
Some days are what we use in Very Important Interviews when we talk about Suffering for Our Art.
Some days we learn to take ourselves a little bit less seriously (maybe after seeing those Very Important Interviews).
Some days are just good days.
Some days we live and are happy.
I like those days.
This week is Fuzzfest! Pull up a chair and a warm blanket and bask in my version of light cheer!
For days that are more good than otherwise, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here.