It don’t pay to be me but it sure costs a lot!!!!
. . . and I ain’t necessarily talkin bout $$$ either!!!
It is cold and windy outside and it feels good to be in bed
May as well write this down:
The other night I was walking down Telegraph Avenue in Oakland, California with a bottle of super crappy wine, and I was laughing like hell and running around and dodging traffic and whatnot. On my way back to my neighborhood I passed a guy dragging some trashcans out of a restaurant to a nearby dumpster. I said, “Hey man.”
The guy stopped, said, “What’s up?”
I said, “There will come a day when we never have to take out someone else’s trash again—and that day may very well be the day we die, but hey, that’s something.”
Dude said, “Right on, man”
I think this is the best way to describe the day I had:
In a TV series, there is at least one episode in a season that sticks out and feels weird and off—usually because it is written by someone other than the usual writer(s). Sometimes it is the best episode, but almost always it is the worst episode.
Well: Today I felt like my day was written by someone else. I felt weird in my own body! And every interaction I had was just slightly off. If it had been outlandishly bizarre and different that would have been one thing. No, it was so close to the real thing that even the most subtle differences made it unnerving.
Like I became unglued from the thing!
I am, I think, still unglued from the thing.
This happens sometimes, I guess. Maybe at a certain point you get old and you can never get back to the thing again. You are unglued forever.
It was not by making yourself heard but by staying sane that you carried on the human heritage.
Thanks Alayna ☆彡
This morning I woke up and made coffee and sat down in my pajamas and leather jacket and worked on a short story I’m writing about a seven-foot-tall super-solider who travels to Antarctica to rob a synthetic cocaine factory
So that’s what I’m doing with my life