Hey, look. I’m doing it again. I’m slogging through the idiocy of each individual sentence, refusing to go backwards and erase the start of a sentence I fell out of love with ten words ago. Each paragraph is like a single day: there’s only so much you can get done, only so much you can expect from it. The good ones are unforeseen and you just have to keep going through them until you get to the good one. You have to keep plowing along to hit that vein of gold. Nothing good just falls into your lap, you have to trudge on and on and really get that thing together. It’s the long work, the hard work struggling through the boredom and feeling that this is never going to work out. That is what keeps you alive and running. That is what’s going to convince the deus ex machina to come out of the tangled fabric of causality and bump you up to the next level. I guess that is what they call faith.