Last night, instead of going to the bar, I sat with a bottle of wine while attempting to put some words on the page. For a short time, they were coming out fine. Then, as with many stages in my life, I hit a brick wall. I was reflecting on my being accepted into design school and that story can’t be told without the mentioning of my second ex wife, Caroline, to whom I was married at that time. Many years have passed since our separation, the divorce. It’s been about four years now, I think. Yet when I attempt to write about anything involving the part of my past that includes her, I find myself stumbling like a drunk, out of a bar, into the street, and in front of a moving car. The car throwing me twenty yards and I lay there bleeding, gnashing my teeth at the…