miss me?

I'm working too much, long days- it sucks all the funny out of me. If I had a paragraph in me, it'd probably be spent railing against the fat faggot priest at the last Catholic funeral I had a front row seat to. Or on what an insecure L.A.sshole I'm working for now. Give me some time to find the humor in it all. Meanwhile, I'm over on facebook cracking myself up one sentence at a time. I'll give you a sample. "[Smack Dab] handed out a cigarette to an obese woman in a 'hello kitty' smock top figuring, it completes the look." I know, there is 'that of God' in her...and in my boss. (The priest?- I'm not convinced) It's hard not to be mean. I guess that's why I'm seeking refuge with my friends & family members- some of whom I haven't spoken with in decades. My lovely Dad reminded me that the good and the bad frequently run concurrently- it's not always easy knowing how to feel. Writing is a wonderful way of sorting through details and finding the plot. Editing, however, is a gigantic chore. It requires retro-fitting onesself with someone else's ears. The six or so things I have in draft read like a Wm. Burroughs dream journal (I flatter myself). I'll be back when the 'mojo' is. The encouraging thing; I'm also embroiled in planning a big, gay wedding. That should be good for a laugh.