Perhaps I have been able to create enough drama in my fairly undramatic life to finally write that novel. Maybe it’s over.. and instead of scaring myself with what if he leaves when he finds my friend asleep on the couch and my brother dropping by.. I scare myself with the thought of how will I survive without him.
Either way I am not hungry and this thinking I do does nothing to dissuade my stomach from thinking it can now join Cirque Du Soleil and be amazing with it’s tumbling feats.. They don’t give awards for the shits.
They do give awards for good fiction. For excellent movies and screenplays. But they don’t give awards to dead girls.
Maybe my life is too boring and I have created this bit of drama for excitement. I don’t think I really need it. My existence as boring as it may seem. Was good for my stomach. Peaceful and zen even. Daily morning walks, daily email. Lotion making and work. I can deal with this. Mental planning for the body care baskets I plan to make for Christmas.. and for the planning I do for the label that needs to exists. Because people keep telling (US) that they don’t’ know how to market New Soul…
Idiots all of them. Idiot me.
Catch me in like 6 mos. I’ll have the novel. The songs. The demo. The label plans and the gray hairs to prove it.
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