“Don’t loaf and invite inspiration.  Light out after it with a club.” ~ Jack London

I’m coming to you today, dear reader, from, if I may be so bold, the coolest writer’s shed, certainly in California, but perhaps anywhere.  Better than Roald Dahl’s or Dylan Thomas’.  Certainly better than Thoreau’s or Kaczynski’s.  Allowing for time and adjusting for technological advancement, I’d say it could give both Shaw’s and Twain’s sheds a run for their money.  I have a shed.  It is badass.  Within this shed, I shall build my church.

I ran out of whiskey shortly after noon today, which was not an auspicious start.  But then I realized I was out of whiskey in the coolest writer’s shed in the world and I felt mildly better.  But then I thought, “Well, now, wait a minute.  If there is no whiskey, then this can’t be the coolest writer’s shed in the world.  It’s not even as cool as the next nearest one if that one has whiskey in it.

N.P.: “Low Fuel Drug Run” – 7Horse