Skyper Active.

If you had pulled up beside me at a stop light last Thursday at approximately 8:40am PST, you would have assumed one of the following:

I was having a seizure. I was head-banging to some serious devil worshipping metal. The seat of my Volvo doubled as an electric chair and I was being executed.

The truth is I had just returned home from book tour and was having a complete breakdown. Primal sobs, soaked face, snot bubbles, and a tortured soliloquy about burn out. At one point I remember yelli...