For at least a year after I’d stopped reviewing movies for a living, I’d sit in the cinema and mentally craft a review for whatever film I was watching at the time.

I tell you this to illustrate what my problem is: my brain doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up. That’s why something like this blog runs the risk of becoming just another place where I’m writing because I’m a writer. And that’s why it’s mostly been me posting art—because words light up my brain and all I want is a bit of darkness and quiet.

(I realise the irony of writing all this out, but I’m not writing this as a writer. I’m writing this as someone who needs to just get this out there, so I can give my problem form and take away its power.)


Rob Sheridan / How to Destroy Angels