No, no, it’s just me a regular ol’ pancake.
Oh. How…how did you knock on my door?
What do you mean?
You don’t have hands.
Right. I sorta bumped my plate into the door.
Ah. Gotcha. Well, you wanna come in?
You know you won’t be leaving though, right?
Oh, why’s that?
Well, probably gonna eat you for breakfast.
“I met him six months ago at work. I’m the manager of a store. He was a delivery man. He was playful and fun. He’d bring me coffee and buns in the morning. He started driving me home at night. We began dating and recently moved in together. But a few weeks ago I called his cell phone and a woman picked up. She started asking who I was, and said she wanted to know why I was calling ‘her man.’ Afterwards he told me it was a big misunderstanding. He said it was his ex-girlfriend, and he’d been with her for nine years, so he still feels a responsibility to provide for her. He swears it’s just a material relationship. But she calls him all the time now. He’s not my property, and I don’t want to lose him, but I just want him to make her go away. But he acts like it’s my problem. When I tell him it bothers me, he just says: ‘I’ll ask her not to call at night.’”
George Orwell wrote that "Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting, struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness" (in 'Why I Write), do you agree?
Yes, I agree, that’s a George Orwell quote all right.*
“All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.”