I realize none of you give a rat's ass, but I am spending my day locked behind my desk, scribbling out plot points concerning my next book. It will tell the story of William Burroughs’s time in Mexico City in 1953 and deal with the 'accidental' shooting of his wife, Joan Volmer Burroughs. I am penning it, using factual documents, as a "fucked-up love story". Depression? Drugs? Alcoholism? Homosexual tendencies? Schizophrenic nightmares? All wrapped in the self-loathing romance of two Americans living in the slums of Mexico? I am extremely passionate about writing this!