White Dade makes a good point:
As soon as a good, Angry Young Man blogger finds himself a girl, that nasty edge he had goes down the drain faster than a used condom on a Sunday Night. I guess it reasons, though. All the great writers are either depressed or suicidal when they do their best work, so when something comes along that brightens your outlook on life, your work suffers. How fucking selfish.
My potent, productive rage comes from not having what I want. The day I get into a happy committed relationship is the day my writing looks like Chaco’s (an awesome friend and writer!). 
