I have a lot of stuff that I have written. That's more of a warning than a brag, to be honest. I got shite written on napkins and sticky notes, in notebooks, in OneDrive, journals, margins of books. It's everywhere. I am being eaten alive by the sense of it hanging over my head like a problem I can never get on top of.

So, I was think that I would find somewhere to put it all. I mean, for me. To get it off my desk. Maybe to infect your mind, who knows? That sounds like a perc more than anything. That I, me, ME, would have an idea that is so good [or bad] that you just can't get away from it? That you like get a tattoo of it? That, my friend, sounds fine. But the real reason is that there are too many versions of things that I want to finish before I die, and, things being what they are, that needs to happen like by summer, because I am certain now that I am failing.