Ever find yourself facing a situation raging out of control, almost certain a disaster lurks around the corner, all the while completely powerless to look away? It’s bad; you know it, and you can’t stop staring.

I refer to Poppy Z. Brite.

Ms. Brite has so much talent–she’s written some great short stories and novels–and so few coping skills. To read her journal, I might think she was a colossal whiner. In fact, she’s probably quite charming and funny on her good days, just a bit lost at the moment.

Hopefully Poppy raises herself out of this funk soon, heals those wounds, and carries on with what matters. As an author, there’s some narrative bouncing around those dark chasms she keeps locked tight, still clawing for the surface.