Sappy Gay Shit About the Past

As soon as the song begins I revert back.

When nothing mattered and everything was okay. We'd sit out on the porch smoking the finest cigarettes and drinking the cheapest beer. Looking at the stars and talking about the most unimportant things, when a lull would overtake us... and everything would freeze. In that moment, we controlled time and space and the world was ours. Just sitting there for us to take in our immature hands and sculpt and mold... probably into the form of a dick and some balls.

Then Fisher would say something stupid that would make us laugh and the world belonged to everyone again. Prematurely. It was never supposed to in the first place. The future was --

God dammit.

The future was always supposed to be up to us. We were never supposed to move apart from each other and people weren't supposed to resent anything and people weren't supposed to die in Iraq, and fucking bullshit lines were not supposed to be drawn. Not if it were up to us, God dammit, not if it were up to any of us who were rational and thoughtful and caring. Not even of just ourselves, but I swear to Christ, of everyone. Nobody ever wanted anyone to get hurt. Fuck. God. Things have to move forward, but fuck. Why? Forward equals pain. It equals frustration and broken bonds and death. And loneliness.

They say it's like a roll of toilet paper, the closer you get to the end the faster it goes. Soon someone got married. Then another. And another. A child was born. Then two more. Maybe another after that. It's hard to keep count when you're fighting it. All of these people building up new replacements, and before long, it's just you. You're alone.

And you're outside. No more porch. Smoking the cheapest cigarettes and the lowest-common-booze. Vulnerable to every car that washes by, scattering thoughts and blowing away the stars. Matured only by the lines on your face and the ache in your heart. The tears in your eyes. And the vices you adopt.

I've suddenly become aware of the lateness of things.

And every time I play back this song it loses a little bit of the meaning I had associated with it. So I guess eventually I have to move on to the next track, and remember the first, fondly, but not obsessively, temporarily, and, albeit reluctantly, looking forward.

9:22 AM - 2 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Benelovence = Burden

I have a cat now.

Fuck.

She's afraid, because she's in a new place. I'm afraid because I suddenly have responsibility.

I haven't seen much of her in a while. She's hiding. Because life sucks, and she recognizes that much quicker than the rest of us. We put our shit out there right away and learn that "out there" hates our shit. She's keeping it to herself, so bravo to her.

But I'm cool, right? So double eue tee ef?

She just slinked around the corner. Who knows what she's up to. I have to give her her space. She's probably shitting on my dreams. To each her own.

She was going to the shelter, but she's seven, so I took her in. Because I'm rad. Damn the torpedoes. I'll be fine.

Right now, she's looking at a ghost that she's afraid of. She's just staring at nothing... Now she's staring at me... FUCK... I'm the nothing. She's laying now, because she's identified me as the enemy.

French music is playing. She's content but aware. Startled every time I rest my drink on the table. She will have to get used to that. I've got to end this, because she's got more patience than I do.

Point of the story... Cat - Afraid - Burden? - Me - Enemy? - Perhaps - Drink.

9:13 AM - 13 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

If You Read One Blog About How Hot it is...

Make it this one.

Because I'm the "coolest."

Faggot.

It's so fucking hot in my apartment that my toiletries are evaporating. Taking a shower has become my own shitty episode of "Man vs. Nature." The beads of sweat on my deodorant matched only by the ones on my forehead. Fuck. It's hot.

Does gas evaporate? Because holy shit, gas prices + holy shit, heat = holy fucking cocksucking shit.

Saw a falling star. I was looking for the north star because if I'm ever lost in the woods... spoiler alert... I'm fucked. The brightest star was next to the moon, and that fucker was pointing SOUTH. God damn, cosmos, why you gotta be like that? If I ever get lost in nature, I'm Jerry.

Loose reference for gay film fans.

But this falling star, I saw it BURN up in the atmosphere. It's that FUCKING HOT. Small planets are burning in the sky! That's how hot it is! Global warming? I actually wished on that falling star that environmentalist weren't right about this one.

I'm shooting some friends' pilot tomorrow and it's going to literally be hell. Fire and brimstone and me, in, (hopefully not) an insulated wig and three layers of clothing shouting "Fuck you, Nazi-Zombie!" Goodbye water molecules fueling my cells. I'll see you again at the bar. You'll be the ice in my lost cause.

But I'll love it. I'll be sweating and cursing and angry, and I'll be loving it. Because what the fuck? We live in Los Angeles. What were we expecting? Well, okay, fame and fortune, but after that, hideous fucking heat. And friends. That's why I don't care. I'll be in anybody's shoot at any time because I live alone and hanging out with my friends in the worst circumstance is better than being alone and just as bitchy.

Okay, sorry, snooze. The alarm just went off again. Ignore that last paragraph and wake up again.

It's so hot, Angelina Jolie just burst into flames! Does that work? Jennifer Aniston just called for a breast reduction! No? Natasha Henstrich just got a new movie deal! No wait... It's so hot, Ugly Betty grew two extra arms, ate a small child, made anti-semitic remarks, and was still crowned "most beautiful person ever!!!!" That's how fucking hot it is. Right? Because everything is hot.

Ugh. Just like my whiskey. Time for a drink freshening. Holy shit, spell check didn't redline "freshening." Is that a word?

9:33 AM - 4 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

What I’m Watching 3

Legally Blonde/The Search for Elle Woods

Or as I like to call it, "Who Do I Want to Murder the Most." The early favorite is EVERYONE.

The only thing worse than "six strangers picked to live in a house" is ten fucking theater chicks picked to literally be drama queens. Oh my God. FUCK theater people. If you've ever done theater, I never want to hang out with you. Why don't they call this show "Nerd Alert! Get Ready to Kill Yourself!"?

Take it from me, female performers, your "cuteness" flies out the window the second you do your vocal exercises. Even before that really. When you flash that cheesy fucking shit-eating fake bullshit smile. That's when you become fucking Satan and the only thing I hear coming out of your mouth is "stab me in the fucking tits."

6:10 - Well, I just typed through the first 10 minutes of the show. Here's what you missed, "Scream, scream, scream, blah blah blah. Pick me, I'm more fucking fame starved than this bitch over here." Spin, turn, turn, spin.

6:15 - They're picking a winner. (Already?) Whoever it is gets to hang out with "the" Elle Woods. Cool, Reese Witherspoon? No, some other fucking lame theater chick nobody has heard of. Recap - "And the winner is..." Scream scream scream blah blah blah.

Great, now we get to watch these retards rehearse. Fucking thrilling. A big blonde mound of know-it-all, knowing it all. Shit! I just got nachos on my boner.

6:26 - The last ten minutes I was in a "who wants it more" coma. Sorry. I passed out and went to "who wants it more" land where a bunch of chicks talked about who wants it more and how hard its going to be. So who wants it more? SPOILER ALERT - The fucking blonde one.

6:31 - I just came back from washing the cheese off my dick to find one of the girls crying. Story of my life.

6:36 - Holy shit. Have any of these girl's acted before? I'm not an actor, but I've acted. I'm watching the auditions, they had the scene partner drop a line on purpose to see how the blondes would react. Every single one (so far) has just sat there waiting for the other line. I thought actors were supposed to be in love with themselves. You don't wait for your line, you step on people to get to it, big head. Duh. That's what everyone wants, right? More you? The sound of your voice, the expression on your face, the talent you exude? Gaywad. What, did you memorize the whole play? Fuck you. Read your lines and fuck you.

6:44 - Smiles smiles, screams, acting, being obnoxious, smiles.

6:55 - They're eliminating one of them. Who's gonna lose?? Guess what? Nobody fucking cares, because all these girls are the same dipshit cock sucking attention whore. I'll tell you who loses. America. Gas prices and now this? If I were North Korea, I would fucking nuke us. This eliminated bitch is crying. Her tears = my vomit.

6:07 PM - 7 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

What I’m Watching: Hotel Erotica Cabo

This is the best thing I've ever seen.

9:15 - Well, I've missed the first 15 minutes of this movie, hopefully I'll be able to understand what's happening. Two girls are talking about poker over lunch. Not one "Liquor up front, Poker in the back" joke... yet. They know all the terms and are shoehorning them in. I feel like I'm watching "Lucky You."

9:16 - Sex scene.

9:20 - Flashback over, back to the girls at lunch, they're out of money. LEFT TURN. The waitress came up and asked them if they were in the Junkyard Dogs music video being shot. The band is number one in Australia and New Zealand. The girls lie in order to be able to deliver (a third order of) hot chocolate to the band in their room. I think they probably have a plan to fuck the band out of some money. Pun INTENDED.

9:25 - Dammit, B-story. Some girl and foreign dude. Possibly the antagonists... Sex scene.

9:30 - The two girls are hustling the Junkyard Dogs at poker. One of the band members catches them in a lie. "Looks like I called your bluff." Awesome. Sex scene -- fastforward...

9:31 - The sex scene was a fake out! The two girls have split up with respective band members. This band member is a downer. He's depressed because he's not a real rockstar. Geeze, he talks alot about how broke he is. Back to the other couple for a sex scene. It's real this time. As real as non-penetration pornography can be.

9:35 - One of the girls has developed a conscious and loses all the money they won back to the Junkyard Dogs. She doesn't want to gamble any more. Wait, this feels like a half-way point... Yep the movie started at 8:45, I guess I've missed more than I thought -- Whoa, sex scene out of nowhere. This movie is fast-paced, if you don't pay attention you can really get behind.

9:40 - Back to the villains, talking about how much they love Cabo over breakfast. EVIL! Hang on, now there's a father and son who hate each other. I'm totally lost. The dad wants the son to grow up. The son is into greenpeace or something. Oh shit, the son won the lottery but just realized he left the ticket with the girls who checked them into the hotel! I think? Now he's imagining having lots of money and rubbing it on a woman's tits. If I won a million dollars that's definitely the first thing I would do with it.

9:41 - The prick dad is being mean to a hot girl for getting his newspaper wet. She pushes him in the swimming pool, says a one-liner I've listened to five times. I think she says, "Drive darkly, you jerk." Oh shit, I got it. She says "Try Berkeley, you jerk" in response to his "I'm sure they didn't teach you manners in beauty school." Nice one!

9:45 - The son found his lottery ticket. So much for conflict.

9:46 - Sex scene with -- you WON'T see this one coming -- the jerk dad and Berkeley grad.

9:50 - What happened to the poker playing girls? Did they get enough money to enter the poker tournament or change their ways? Or are these them? I can't tell. No, not them because this girl is talking to the son about how rich she is. Shopping montage. This is a hands down good movie.

9:52 - Sex scene beginning with the son saying "I don't know, I MAY need more convincing." Um... they decide to go eat instead. It's just like real life.

9:53 - OH SNAP. It is the same girls, and I'm retarded. She told him she had money because she wants his lottery win. Did M. Knight Shamalama write this shit? I did NOT see that coming. The son overhears her plans as she unfolds them on her cell. Meanwhile the dad is still having sex with the Berkeley grad (who is the same girl who wants to give up gambling, fyi. I feel like I need crib notes to follow this.)

9:55 - Shit, the prick dad is actually the prick BROTHER. My bad. The two brothers are talking shirtless about their dead parents. It's giving me a huge boner.

9:58 - I think they're desperately trying to wrap this up on a high-note. Younger brother (formerly "son") just found out that the girl buys real-estate and turns it into low income homes (she must not be the poker girl after all). She's right up the greenpeace guy's alley. They fuck in the shower. Roll credits.

10:30 - I was completely wrong, that wasn't the end of the movie. Another *famous* band showed up and dominated the last half-hour. Inexcusably, not one mention of the poker girls, the two shirtless brothers the foreign "villain" or the Junkyard Dogs. They even brought a NEW struggling musician in to fuck the female lead singer of the famous band. Oh by the way, here's the synopsis from the guide:

"A woman arrives for an arranged marriage to a stranger, but engages in an affair with a handsome man."

Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.

10:30 PM - 3 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Car Wars

Woke up early, went to do laundry. On my way back I saw that my passenger-side car door was ajar. Mother FUCKER.

My car has been broken into a bunch of times since I moved to Los Angeles. I've had at least one (maybe two?) stereos stolen. I've lost a lot of money on this shit. That's why, now, I don't leave fucking ANYTHING in there. I mean, like, there's trash on the floor, sunglasses by the e-break, and some change in the ashtray.

And these mother fuckers STILL break in. The point of not having anything in there is so that they look in and move on. GOD dammit. I even leave my trunk locked so you can't get to it from the inside.

So I got in my car, looked around. Doesn't seem to be anything missing. The trash is still on the floor. The sunglasses are still by the e-break... The fucking change. Nice work guys, you got about two dollars in quarters and maybe one more in pennies. Fucking cunts.

The initials "SK" where drawn on the filth of the rear window. Could be a different occasion. But, if not, what the fuck you stupid fucking dipshit? SK. What are you the fucking wet bandits? Just so when you get caught you can really get caught?

Fuck.

I don't even give a shit, but they fucked up my window a little bit. It was already fucked up on the driver's-side from previous break-ins. You couldn't even give me that courtesy, SK, to just use the already fucked up side? Now I've got two fucked up sides? Fucking cock.

I guess it doesn't matter. Strip your existence and they still manage to take things from you.

9:23 AM - 8 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

What I’m Watching: So You Think You Can Dance

An hour EDIT: TWO HOURS inside my head. Sigh...

8:00 - I've never seen this show. It's reminding me of when I worked on AcceptableTV and pitched "So You Think You Can Dance with the Stars?" where determined contestants try to get grumpy celebrities to dance with them. I still think that's a hilarious idea.

8:05 - This is exactly like American Idol, which I have seen one episode of. So far, I hate this show. They're profiling this blond chick in Utah who lost her house and "like a bunch of cars" for some reason. Fuck her. I'm glad she lost all that shit. This show is depressing. It's reminding me that I'm broke. Now she's dancing. This is choreographed? Who's that dude? Are they a team? Mandy Moore is a judge? Was she an actress then a singer or the other way around?

8:07 - Holy shit, now they're profiling a down syndrome contestant. I'm even more depressed. This is just like American Gladiators when they had the double amputee (legs) on. It was supposed to be inspiring but just turned out to be exploitive and cringe-inducing. Actually, he's dancing now and is better than the blond chick (who's going on to New York, or L.A. or whatever). I wonder how long they'll keep him around for the story. Oh, not at all I guess -- CUT. Cold-blooded, Mandy.

8:10 - Wait, is Lost on tonight? Oh shit it's Wednesday, never mind.

8:16 - Why is the host British? Are the judges British? They are. Why does American TV just take everything popular from the UK instead of letting me make a show? Anyway, profiling some long haired dude, I'm not paying attention. He sucks. Mandy Moore just said something about pushing a button and going crazy. I'm not sure what she's talking about, but I don't think a "crazy button" exists. (Oh wait, it's alcohol.)

8:23 - Yes, a dude just landed on his face. This is what I signed up for.

8:25 - Do people watch this to see good dancers? Because the good ones are a snooze-fest for me. They should call this show "Can you Make Wade Fall Asleep?". Spoiler alert: Everyone's a winner.

8:31 - Whoa, this girl is 27 and has four kids. Mormon much? I had a Mormon friend when I was young, and let me just say, they're crazy. And super nice. You can't piss them off no matter what you do. Try it and see what I mean. Btw, the 27 year-old is a shitty dancer. Me and the judges are sharing a laugh over her goofy dance style. I'm naming it "Latter-dance Shit" because I'm nearly clever.

8:39 - Wait, I went to the bathroom and now there's a big choreographed dance happening? Oh, I guess these are the "barely" contestants. They all look like really nice people who think they can dance.

8:46 - Some girl, overweight. She sucks. I'm a better dancer then her and I suck. She says she's an actress. She was in an independent movie playing a post-apocalyptic warrior. I don't have to see that movie to know it's GENIUS. Holy shit, Mandy Moore is laying into her. Cat-fight! Remember that episode of Seinfeld? Shit, that was a good show.

8:50 - Maybe beer will make this better...

8:51 - Wow, the beer is working. This guy is a DJ at a strip club who just got dumped. Here's how that probably went down.

DJ - Hey, Trinity, we hangin' on Friday?
Trinity - No, I'm dancing on Friday.
DJ - Oh. Okay.

DJ pretends to read the newspaper. Attempts restrain, then --

DJ - Just don't sleep with Steve again.
Trinity - I'll sleep with Steve if I want to. You know what? You're suffocating me.
DJ - Is that what you said to Steve, that fat fuck!?
Trinity - We're through. See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya.
DJ - You'll be sorry when I win So You Think You Can Dance!

Trinity exits. DJ pours whiskey into his morning coffee.

DJ - My Kingdom for a horse.

8:57 - Do you think you can buy the soundtrack to this show? I wish you could so I'd have something fitting in which to blow my head off. Is this Blink180 3-11 Blind? They just let this guy in DESPITE his basketball shorts. What happened to their cut-throat mentality? Why are British people good at being jerks? They're so quick-witted. Like black people. I wish I had grown up somewhere that made me quick-witted, like London or South Chicago.

9:01 - Wait, 9:01? Oh fuck, this is a two-hour show. Looks like I'm gonna miss "Farmer Wants a Wife" after all.

9:07 - The fake airline tickets they're giving the winners are comedically oversized. A regular size wouldn't read? I mean, they're big already. Try to put one in your wallet, you can't do it. That's the test of if something is big or not. A lion wouldn't fit in your wallet either.

9:18 - This show is the same thing over and over again, like when you're hung-over sleeping and keep dreaming that you walk to the kitchen and get water but never actually wake up and do it. That's the way this show makes me feel. Oh wait, now they're in Texas. A dude with a mohawk is about to tear his hamstring (they teased it earlier). How exciting! He just did it. I didn't know you could tear anything by spinning around in a circle. Kids do it all the time and seem to be fine. Now I'm depressed again, I need health insurance.

9:29 - Fuck, this chick is a beauty-pageant contestant. Why do they smile so much? It's so insincere it pisses me off. Nobody just walks around smiling. Why the fuck do they do that? Here's a tip: only smile when you're happy otherwise you look like an asshole.

9:35 - Wait, there's an Olive Garden cooking school? Wait, the Olive Garden cooking school is in Tuscany?

9:42 - Losing interest, watching youtube videos of graffiti taggers.

9:50 - Ten more minutes. I'm not gonna make it.

9:53 - Maybe I will make it, this dude has two mini-afros on his head like Micky Mouse ears and he's dancing with a chair. The judges hate him. They're yelling at him. He tried to leave and they started another fight with him then told him he needed to leave. Wtf? Let him leave, then.

9:58 - HOLY SHIT it was worth it. A little animated Snuggle Bear was just dancing for a little bit. Best part of the show, and it's finally over.

In conclusion I'm never watching this show again. ONE face-plant?

9:59 PM - 11 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

About a Week Ago

I nearly died. Not really. But sort of?

Was bar hopping with people more successful than me. We took a cab because nobody drove. At this point in my life, I had done little else than play Grand Theft Auto for about a week straight. So I hardly noticed (but did notice) when the cabbie drove about 80 mph down Sunset.

We were going downtown. At some point on the journey, we had to cross an intersection where cars were getting on and off one of the interstates. I don't know which one. Downtown is sort of an island to me. I can only get there by the ways I know, and I didn't know this way.

As we approached the intersection, I saw that the light was red. I didn't think much of the speed the cab was going. He's a cab driver, so I figured he would speed up to the light and slam on the breaks, because, even though they do it all day everyday, cab drivers are the worst drivers in the world.

Well, someone in the back also noticed that the light was red. "Um, that light is red..." he said, but it was too late. We entered the intersection and were about to be eviscerated by no less than a BILLION automobiles. We all screamed. It was terrifying. I looked to my side, the passenger's side, saw an SUV heading directly at me, and braced for the impact by holding on to the hard plastic handles that come with every mini-van. No seatbelt. Only future pain.

Miraculously, through the cabbie's daft reflexes and/or the other drivers' sensible ones, we escaped. I'm not sure if everyone escaped, but our car did. I didn't see my life flash before my eyes. I'm pretty sure that's bullshit, or maybe something you see once you're already dead. All I saw was us getting hit and, best case scenario, spinning uncontrollably.

Later that night I could have easily died again, when we wound up in some dive that seemed to be in the heart of skid-row. But by then, we were too elated as to have not died earlier to worry about it.

Still later I jumped out of the cab and walked into a field. There was a small fence that was easy to jump, so I jumped it. Not really sure why. When I see a vast open area fenced off I take it upon myself to find out what they're fencing off... I guess. I was also drunk. Exploring is fun. I was drunk. Let's move on.

I'm also scared all the time, and was pretty sure I was in Ghostbusters when I saw a large dark figure moving out of the corner of my eye. "It's one of those gargoyles and I'm Rick Moranis," I thought.

It wasn't a gargoyle. It was a horse. If you know me, you know I'm pretty allergic to horses. Deathly? Maybe not, but a fairly big inconvenience ensues after I touch one. My face swells up, I have a hard time breathing. I sort of forgot this as I walked towards the horse.

"Hey Clip-Clop," I said to the huge dumb animal. He came over to the (other) fence that separated us. I pet him on the nose. This arouse the suspicions of the horse's horse friends, who came to check me out. So I pet them too. Fuck it.

After a little while, and a few more gathering horses, I started to get spooked. So I headed out. Found the easy to jump fence and walked home. Never got allergies or anything.

I'd like to tell you that after facing my pussy version of nearly dying then connecting with animals and, therefore, unbridled life, I was taught something or it made me think something. But it didn't. First of all, I'm pretty sure the horses were bridled, maybe not at the time, but they were fenced in, so, I mean -- well shit I'm the one who said "unbridled" in the first place. Just scratch that. I was a drunk guy petting some horses. That's what you've just read. A boring story about a drunk guy petting horses.

Well, hang on a second. I just had another drink. Maybe it does mean something. Maybe by making the responsible choice early in the night and being nearly fucked by it, I was afforded the opportunity to later make a few irresponsible choices. Or maybe it means that nothing matters and terns like "karma" are just that, terms invented by benevolent people who needed a reward.

At any rate... I'm still here. Still bitter. Lost a subscriber recently. Fuck whoever that was. Sorry that this blog is so bad you actually took the effort to click a few buttons and banish me rather than simply not clicking one link to get here. Asshole.

2:16 AM - 23 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

Dear Future Wife,

When we start finishing each others' sentences about our respective bowel movements, let's get divorced. Deal?

Love,
Fuck you

4:11 AM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Denial

I started painting today. It's fucking hard. I thought, "Fuck, I'll start painting. I'll fucking paint." And that was about it. Not much to it. But holy shit, it's really hard to paint. You can't just say "Hey, I'm going to paint," and start painting. Well, I mean, you CAN, but don't expect to be any good at it. You're going to have to actually try.

Drew told me today that William Shatner only recently found out that the cast of Star Trek hated him. Always had. I think it takes a special sort of person not to see that. To be in denial of what you actually are. And it reminds me of the first year I was in Los Angeles.

I had been rejected by the UCLA screenwriting program, but, as a sort of parting gift, had been given the "opportunity" to participate in a brand new series called the "Professional Program" where I, along with fellow rejectees, could learn under the same teachers who taught the legitimate film students. I clicked my heels twice and wished to never go back to Kansas (I'm not from Kansas) and signed up.

I had good teachers -- I think. Who really fucking knows. Screenwriting is more art than science and blah blah. Long story short there was a guy in my class. Now, there are varying degrees of "having it," whether you're a ditch-digger or a lawyer, you either have the skills to do the job or you don't. This guy from Arkansas or Alabama or generic southern state, definitely did not "have it." It was fairly obvious to the others in the class (non-verbally, of course) that this guy was never going to make it. He just COULDN'T. Could he?

I've been in constant worry from that point on that I was that guy. That every one else around me could see that I just obviously was not cut out for this line of work. That I should rather be in an office somewhere talking about business strategies and reports. Or worse, getting paper for the guys who talked about business strategies and reports. That I was in denial about my skills like that country-bumpkin, but everyone was too nice to tell me.

Then I started painting. Holy shit. Did I say how hard it is? If not, it's really fucking hard. And I'm thinking, if I was in a painting class right now, I would be that country-bumpkin that nobody believed in. I would be the guy who everyone thought was in denial of how much talent he has. Afraid to tell him how horrid his paintings are, and that it's all really a waste of time. Move back to Arkanflogia! You'll never make it HERE!

And the conclusion that I sort of came to was, yeah, I suck at painting. I might also suck at screenwriting. But I'm doing it. I'm getting it. Bear with me.

William Shatner was in the wrong place. He painted a picture, wrote a script, nailed an audition, made some money and never looked back. I guess I'm the opposite. I'm on my first painting and it's already looking familiar to me. Like failure. But the greatest thing about life, is that you can always go back over your mistakes with a new color. You can get better. And even if you were a jerk and everyone hates you, you can white-wash the canvas and paint a new picture.

(Brought to you by the voice over from "Sex and the City.")

2:38 AM - 20 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment