I Wondered If I Would Spend The

My Way Into Making Movies - Into Making Things Is General - Has Been Through Performing.

I Nodded, Pretending I Was Relaxed. I Watched The Sunlight Sparkling On The Water And Practiced Mind-body Integration For A Few Seconds By Quietly Hyperventilating.

Are You Angry? Punch A Pillow. Was It Satisfying? Not Hardly. These Days People Are Too Angry For Punching. What You Might Try Is Stabbing. Take An Old Pillow And Lay It On The Front Lawn. Stab It With A Big Pointy Knife. Again And Again And Again. Stab Hard Enough For The Point Of The Knife To Go Into The Ground. Stab Until The Pillow Is Gone And You Are Just Stabbing The Earth Again And Again, As If You Want To Kill It For Continuing To Spin, As If You Are Getting Revenge For Having To Live On This Planet Day After Day, Alone.

I Can't Imagine Being Invested In Someone Else's Script.

He Breathed Out The Bitter Air That Makes Women Doubt Everything, And I Breathed It In, As I Had Always Done. I Expelled My Dust, The Powder Of Everything I Had Destroyed With Doubt, And He Pulled It Into His Lungs.