I write this shitty little blog and the occasional short story while working on a screenplay (because I love being a cliche). I find a musician I love and listen to her so damn much even my dogs look at me like, her again? Somehow I did win big in the women department. Still not sure how the fuck I pulled that one off. I must have swag or some such shit.
If you keep using words like 'swag' you won't have me very much longer.
|Some of my favorite words in the world and a light dusting of sand.|
I went to his funeral to support my friend and was handed the above words. I've kept them close as I have moved from place to place, usually in a place I can see them; on a mantle, in my mancave, on a shelf in a library. I even took them with me to Bosnia where they were kept right alongside a picture of a shirtless Jennifer Aniston (which I also still have). I have a habit of taking them from time to time from whatever place I have put them and reading them. Slowly. Deliberately. I cannot tell you why these particular words in this particular order mean so much to me. I only know that they do.
Yesterday they were sharing a shelf with a signed David Thorne book. I decided to give them a permanent home last night. I had a space under the glass top of my desk just to the right of my keyboard that was calling for something cool. I think my desk is finally whole.