Manhattan Murder Mystery or King Lear, that is the question.

Oh shite, ze water is boiled. I shall now have me tea for me ailing bod.

As Oliver would say, be back soon.

So this is a cool thing. Apparently the Actors Anonymous Theater Company chose one of my plays for their one-act play fesitival in May.

The play is called "Untitled," and of course is drenched in allegory and symbolism. I'm sort of surprised they chose that one, but hey, whatever works.

So I guess this begs the question, in art, are you an artist if you show your work, or rather, do you need to show your work to be an artist? I'd consider myself a playwright, but until I get one produced, I find it difficult to say that.

Well maybe it's a case of whether or not you're a successful artist and or playwright. BUt then what is successful?

Ah fuck it.

I'll give y'all details when I know them, but you should check it out.

OKay, This is akin to an epiphany. Who knew about the flash chat shite on this thing? And I have a microphone! Life just became so much easier, thank you Paul.

It does keep on booting me off, so who knows, but ey, regardless. Laters sir, and thanks again.

I'm going to wake up my dog who is having terrible dreams right now. Hopefully it is of disgusting little dogs rather than thought of killing me.

I mean what the fuck.

So I have all this shit to do and I have to go and pass out again. I'd feel better if I really passed out, but no. Damnit.

It's just that I'm legitimately tired, and that's just god awful. Sure, I'm up now, but I feel like passing out again. I won't be on the ball which again, fuck me.

What's one day right. Bastard. I'm just aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

um.

I'm going to sleep. Before I break my computer.

Damnit.

It's true. We're talking inches here. It's a long story but basically a long steel rod came whipping at my neck. If it would have hit my skull, I might be dead now.

Why am I okay with the fact that it didn't hit my skull? I mean, some people would completely look at their lives differently.

Me?

I just knew it wouldn't have hit my skull for some reason. I really just know that.

Very strange but it all makes so much sense sometimes.