The difference is...

I'm not fucking around anymore. If I spent a third as much time writing as I do thinking about writing I'd have completed a thousand manic volumes already. I'm not a kid anymore. And the useless feeling comes from within. The only way to change is through action. Version 2.0 promises absolutely nothing, but as the winter drags on I know something has got to give. Something new is being born. I'd love to have something better but i'll settle for something possible.