Ellipses

What if the ancients were wrong? What if the delicate, graceful, vestal Muses were nothing more than dirty, divine whores looking to score some creativity from us mortals? What if they wobbled from Mozart to Proust to Da Vinci to Canaan, with their togas lopsided, eyes bloodshot, rubbing themselves against genius like cheap harlots?

So lube up, dear reader, because this is the story that happens when the Muse starts talking dirty to you. This is a ten minute fellatio for your mind – sloppy and in your face. This is…