I think part of my problem the past few days is that I’m in a perfectly autumnal mood, and the weather’s not cooperating. But I think it’s telling that I just spent an hour looking for–and at–what I can only describe as pomegranate porn. I recognize this feeling–restless, soul-itchy, bittersweet, pensive, easily distracted, wanting to read Rumi poems and stay drunk. This mood led to the Whole Sordid Affair last year around this time. Does it give away my addiction to drama to say I wouldn’t mind another one of those?