I approached the new year with high hopes indeed.  I was already on the fast track to success with one of my self-improvement objectives, having smoked my last cigarette during the wee hours of December 20.

What remained on my resolution list was to write more, drink less, and lose enough weight so I don’t reel in horror everytime I catch my reflection in a full-length mirror.  All of these seemed easily within reach with my victory over nicotine a near certainty.

There is just one little problem.  Quitting smoking takes a lot out of a person.  For the past three weeks, I’ve been irritable, scatterbrained, and unable to write for shit.  I’ll get it sorted out eventually but through the month of January, I apologize in advance if my prose comes off as schizophrenic and retarded.

Thank you for your patience.