This Can’t Really Be The Cure…
I mean, forcing some word-besotted clod to get up early every freaking Saturday morning or—worse yet—forcing some deluded wannabe literary giant to spend his/her entire week trying to come up with six perfect words to express where he/she is at, or where he/she’s been, or what he/she’s been up to, or hopes to be, or hopes to be up to…it can’t be the best way of curing whatever the hell it is that ails him/her, can it?
Still…I guess if one considers the alternative (all those clods and giant wannabes not having the six-word release valve) it’s probably a good thing.
It’s working for me, anyway.
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