How Do Thoughts Ripen?

Are they like tomatoes, slowly turning red and juicy? Like peaches, suddenly letting go of the branch and tumbling down? Mine are not. My raw thoughts are horrible spiders with sharp jaws and hairy toes, crawling around in my stomach. They will NOT come up to write until they are good and ready, and here I sit, all nauseous.

So I can't write about David Neiwert's misogyny-and-fascism post because my bloody spiders are busy having snacks and arguing each other. I HATE them.

After you read David, go read flea and Amanda, too.