I was thinking how it's actually not a betrayal to anyone to be happy in the face of adversity. I had a lovely Irish lady tell me that she was pure well fine and was fine with not knowing what she was doing with her life and drinking and smoking and having $300 in her banquo's account.
I was well pleased. She's the curator for our gallery, and I was touched.
So, of course the addiction is still within me in a thousand fantastic threads.
I buy mystery books a lot and think about how shit my writing is and how bloody hard it is to care enough about something to expend effort gladly - an extension of yourself. Mostly, I think of the hours I have until I must go to bed and start it all.
It changes. Things happen as I don't predict.
This internet I type upon. I've been cajoling and fucking it for days - GIVE ME SOME CONNECTION I'M DYING ALONE AND UNLOVED - then just now, it sproonkled up into this. A miracle.
For what do I await?
Good cheer to you all. Today, I picture you in the stands.
Is there really a 'dynasty' show on tomorrow? I would love to see how they all fared. I would love to have a telly and a single joint and a mate and the ever ubiquitous chinese takeout and fiction novels under my belt and slender physique and knowledge that my path is good and fine and wonderous and