Where you may start to psychically track...
You may be asking yourself, “Why am I reading this?” To which my reply would be, “Why am I writing this?” To be brutally honest, both of us should probably be doing something better with our time, but my motto is life is wasting time before you die. After getting a BFA in Theatre Performance, I thought why not get another senseless degree to top it off? If you are a classmate, you are possibly offended by this comment, but you are reading this out of obligation anyway, so fuck you. I’m laughing as I write that, but maybe you are not. After years of teaching in the inner-city, I think a fuck you a day keeps the doctor away. I was turning the corner tonight to have dinner at Govinda’s, the Hare Krishna temple—this woman puts out her hand as she is crossing in front of my car, halting me to stop. Now right there, it was the perfect fuck you moment. But I was going into the spiritual temple to eat my vegetarian food, so I abstained from the urge to use profanity. The irony? She was in line next to me at the dinner buffet!
If you are not a classmate, why are you reading this??? Perhaps your sexual partner is not available at the moment, or your latest idea to become a millionaire isn’t panning out as planned, allow me to take you into my world for a moment. My world. The ironic thing is, I’d like to escape my world. But heroin is expensive and the thought of injecting needles into my nervous system conjures up dirty needles between the webbing of toes. I already have a fungus in my toenail I’ve been trying to get rid of for years. I thought no one noticed until my students mentioned I had a crusty toe! So humiliating. But, when you are old anyway, you might as well just own it and have a crusty toe to go along with it. Did you see the man that has the HPV virus and it has grown all over his body like a tree?
So sometimes I just sit and write and get lost in the prison of my thoughts like a Poe short story, minus the impressive vocabulary. How did Poe learn his vocabulary, anyway? I bet he would have done well on the GRE. I wonder what it would be like to sit and have tea with Edgar--to really get the story about if he died in a ditch from drinking and how it all came about with marrying his niece…I’d be interested. The real reason I’m writing this blog is I can’t find a decent therapist. A boy once said, "therapist is The Rapist." Once I found out that legally, if the therapist thinks you are suicidal, they can commit you, I seriously reconsidered the honesty of therapy. I mean, I’ve written plays laced with dark humor and death—those get in the wrong hands and are misinterpreted, I am the star of my own Changeling film minus the Angelina Jolie good looks. But you know they always think you’re crazy when it’s inconvenient for you. When it works in your favor, suddenly you’re the sane one. I tried to tell the call in lady for jury duty that I was not mentally stable and she said, “Well you sound mentally stable.” I pleaded, “But I’m not!!!” Ozzy bites the head off of a bat and he gets his own TV show.
I am writing this blog to change the world!!! One of my students said that I am “a gladiator ready to take on the world.” By the end of the day, I am just ready for a nap.
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