Disappear Here. The Syringe Fills With Blood.

When We Sat Down To Eat I Took Inventory Of The People In The Room, And The Remnants Of My Good Mood Evaporated When I Realized How Very Little I Had In Common With Them – The Career Dads, The Responsible And Diligent Moms – And I Was Soon Filled With Dread And Loneliness. I Locked In On The Smug Feeling Of Superiority That Married Couples Give Off And That Permeated The Air – The Shared Assumptions, The Sweet And Contented Apathy, It All Lingered Everywhere – Despite The Absence In The Room Of Anyone Single At Which To Aim This.

I Come To A Red Light, Tempted To Go Through It, Then Stop Once I See A Billboard Sign That I Don’t Remember Seeing And I Look Up At It. All It Says Is 'disappear Here' And Even Though It’s Probably An Ad For Some Resort, It Still Freaks Me Out A Little And I Step On The Gas Really Hard And The Car Screeches As I Leave The Light.

What Keeps Me Interested--and It Always Does--is How Can She Be A Bad Actress On Film But A Good One In Reality?

You Do Not Write A Novel For Praise, Or Thinking Of Your Audience. You Write For Yourself; You Work Out Between You And Your Pen The Things That Intrigue You

I Wasn't Acting On Passion. I Was Simply Acting.