In grade 10, I had a old crotchety English Teacher. A real old school battleaxe. She had a legendary reputation for being an intolerable disciplinarian. Angry, weathered with age, simmering with intenity. Think a female Gene Hackman. Not him playing Royal Tenenbaum, more from one of his Westerns, or that tense Will Smith movie. Charismatic, uncompromising, and ready to explode at the slightest hint of incompetence, idiocy or ignorance.

Anyway, she had a hard rule about writing papers for her class. All writing absolutely had to be done on paper. No word processor computer bullshit. Lined paper. Write that shit out. You better think beforehand what you want to say, because you aren’t fixing it in post. Pen on lined paper. Delete and backspace don’t exist in my world. Don’t like it? Tough shit. We do it my way.

I think this came to mind because I am in bed and am restless. 2am. I’m in a pitch dark room, laying awake next to my peacefully sleeping wife and I have insomnia. I grew tired of scrolling social media in that endless open ended stream of shitty dopamine micro doses. So I opened this blog. Typing on this hateful little on-screen keyboard. Stream of consciousness, no plan, editing on the fly. The antithesis of everything Mrs. Black taught us. RIP to a real one. I think Im tired enough now. Goodnight.