Every year on the anniversary of 9/11 I sit in front of my computer trying to capture my reflection of that day and its aftermath. Every year I end up staring at a blank screen.
We all have stories of survival, be it cancer, car accidents, wars, difficult births, or a host of other things that…
I’m one of those people who lives in constant fear of being found out as not any good. Whenever I’m writing anything I’m just thinking “This is fucking shit,” any minute now someone’s gonna come and slap this computer out of my hands. And every week without fail, if I write a column, every week without fail I finish it and I go and I’ll turn around to my wife and she’ll go “How was that?” and I go “Just fucking shit, I’ve just written the worst piece of fucking shit anyone’s ever written, I’m such a cunt.” And then it’ll come out and people seem to think it’s okay, and so then I just think people are fucking idiots.
C215, Vitry. Courtesy of Streetsy.