What in hell?

Something that I gripe about a lot to myself, but not to anyone else, is that my best writing, by far, seems to take place only in my head. Often on the last leg of travel (like today), but not always, I'll process the events of the day into something really nice and insightful - a poem that doesn't get written for a few days, or an essay that never comes out right. Tonight, inspired by conversations with R & E, as well as the first few paragraphs of an interview in last month's Believer, I had a meaty outline for a very convincing essay on video games as an art form, but now that I'm home it's late and I'm tired, so there's nothing for it. If it sticks around, I might try and put it down sometime this week, but if not, there's this paragraph as a reminder that I once compared "Shadow of the Colossus" to Monet's "Water Lillies."

Current Location: Fort Victoria
Current Music: Neko Case - The Tigers Have Spoken