I sure as fuck am! So what better to counter the sour taste in your readerly mouth than to pick up the latest issue of The Missouri Review and read the first thing in it–a luminous, brilliant, and heartbreaking essay about a sister, her brother, and his sad addiction. It’s called “Imagination and Grace” and it’s written by Wendy Wacker and it will turn you inside out:

I look into my brother’s eyes–the sheer delight I want to last–and truly see him with his torn clothing, visible track marks, closely shorn salt-and-pepper hair, burn scars on his fingers, dancing around to what we now call “the fuck song.” Laughing his ass off. We are laughing our asses off. And I know we’ve got it–complete abandon. Like little kids with the world at our feet.

(There’s also an interview with A.M. Homes, which I’m going to skip ahead to and read next).