What I've found helpful is getting up around two in the morning, making myself a large scotch on the rocks and listening to singers like Johnny Hartma..., (Bridges of Madison County Soundtrack) Sinatra, (The Capital Years) Peggy Lee, (anything) and maybe some K. D. Lang. All this serves to evoke a certain mood, and halfway through the second scotch I get kinda drowsy and slip into a state from which a line in a given song triggers a memory that I nurture along until I have the beginnings of a. It was obvious that those chest hits had done some serious damage because every breath was accompanied by sharp, stabbing pain. Without an easy route to my chest, I was positive she was trying for a crotch shot, but it was hard due to the fetal ball I rolled myself into as she re-aimed her kicks. Through the pain, haze of blood, and the screaming lunatic kicking me, I heard other voices but something was clearly wrong with my hearing, because they came to me from what sounded like very far. More

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