last night i came home and delved into boxes yet unseen.
journals have always been a big fat reminder of what I don’t do. Regularly. or well.
So….the keeping of the girl who begat the girl who begat the woman who begat the woman who begat the woman who begat moi……lost in space, frankly.
not really though.
Long before I blogged, I wrote. I wrote papers upon papers upon journals upon books upon plays upon monologues. Long before anyone laid claim to said genres…I wrote.
and the point to the title of this post is I DID!! I wrote a song. and I can remember singing it on my balcony with Dion…and did he–perhaps–help with the words or just work out the tune? I don’t recall. But hey…quite frankly–thhe song is sappy but doesn’t quite suck 12 inch dicks in the Batcave.
I just didn’t tell or show. mostly because I think I sound like a whiney psychotic crazy fathead who needs a sandwich (clearly not the case) and a valium.
my point, and I do have one, is this:
I went through some boxes last night. Found some writings. Monologues used for work,for auditions. One act plays. words formed onto a piece of paper.
all of which could be conducive to the thing I feel I’m on the precipice with….the thing, or act, or movement, or piece or WHAT THE FUCK EVER that I am supposed to birth….
I feel the connection.
I think I need of find the person to help me connect it. . . talked that point out a bit today at purple pool. I think maybe I am supposed to find someone to confide all the crazy talk into…and that may be the person to help me write and birth this whatever….????
or maybe I should have just come home from purple pool about two hours earlier?????
awwwwwwwwwwwww. that’s just stoo-pid.