September 6, 1998
I'm not Catholic, but if I were, I s'pose I could do one of those confessional things here. ("Dear Reader, forgive me ... it has been a week since my last public journal entry." And then you could genuflect or something, and I'd be forgiven, and we could go out and have a pizza or tip over some mailboxes or get matching ankle tattoos.) Truth is I've felt hard-pressed to top that last journal entry ("Anniversaries From Hell"). Writing it squeezed every last drop of mental/emotional/creative/psychic/karmic *juice* out of me for a few days. So I allowed it to remain in rotation here on the website for awhile ... wondering, the whole time, what on earth I was going to do for a follow-up ...
I'm back (again). Did you miss me (again)? Of course you did (again).
(Now I know how poor Little Eva musta felt)... but it's OK. It's all a part of *the process.* I feel genuinely inspired maybe .02% of the time. (And believe me, I run with it when it hits.) The rest of the time we will all be forced to endure me writing about mundane stuff like ...
... my new bed!! I have a bed! Finally!(Let the bells ring! Let the birds sing! Let the WINDOW open so we can air the fucking thing OUT.)
Dear Reader says: "More free *sidewalk furniture*, huh?"(To which Secra replies: "Bite me.")
I'll tell you about it tomorrow. It's late and I'm tired and my nose hurts from all of this feverish typing ... g'night, Dear Reader. Whoever you are. WHEREVER you are. (What are you wearing, btw? ...)