Monday, May 22, 2017

Ain't it wonderful to be alive when the rock-n-roll plays

My face hurts and I cannot breathe. That's a byproduct of living in Florida with allergies.

Drugs, please kick in.

In the last couple days animals have dished out some sweet vengeance on humanoids. First was the elephant that crushed the dude that shot her. Well done, lady giant.

Then there was the seal that yanked the little girl into the water. He was lonely and wanted to play. Or he was hungry and reads my blog so he knows kids are tender at that age. Either way, the kid is fine and the seal is lonely/hungry. Poor seal.

I'm re-writing a screenplay I am sending to a couple of people to review. I read it last night and realized I have no fucking idea what I am doing.

I read a thing where David Bowie once said something like, I was driven to get through this life very quickly as if it was almost something to just get over with. That's how I've felt the vast majority of my life.

That feeling is broken up by rare moments of wanting to out run the ticking crocodile lest he catch me; moments when I can almost will time to stop so I can relish it just a little longer than time will allow.

Whenever I write a thing that is real and not just some word salad dribble I can't get it over with fast enough.

But then, sometimes, I will stumble across a thing I wrote and think, wow, I really wrote that? Hmmm, maybe it's not all rubbish.

My face still hurts, but I can breathe again.

Every one of us is riddled with doubt at some point. For some people it's chronic and debilitating. I was born with just enough I don't give a fuck-ness to soldier on through my moments of trepidation.

I don't have a point.

But I do have Billy Joel.

Titty sprinkles!

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