"And I am a writer
writer of fiction
I am the heart that you call home
And I've written pages upon pages
Trying to rid you from my bones...
Let me go if you don't love me" ~The Decembrists "Engine Driver"
'Tis the season to shovel enormous amounts of watermelon into your mouth while hunched over the cutting board like a dehydrated vampire that hasn't fed on blood in four hundred years and the only viable substitute is this questionable Christmas-colored fruit. — Ari11