unexpected

a late happy birthday shout out
to the most important little sister
ever invented

and a very, very early one
to the most impressive
older variety
a brother
could
ever
hope
to have.

Mr. Elizabeth Taylor is asleep on my bed, and I am drunk with the knowledge that I have finished yet another progressive draft of Attican, an old one-act of mine that has been breathing new life this week. I forgot how much I wanted to finish telling the story for the characters. Tonight I rest easy knowing that I have two fewer lost souls bouncing around in my brain. Don't get me wrong, there are a whole lot of lads and lasses with interesting names getting into all sorts of trouble in my head. But tonight, for Demetrius and Alma, sleep comes as last.

Can I get any more effin' dramatic? That's what you get when you write plays. I've been meditating on friendship, which is an interesting situation in Buddhism, because so much of what friends share is based on the past and the future. How much of it is in the actual moment? How much of it is happening right now, as I type this.

so many people have told me
'oh, i've never listened to the grateful dead.'
and i wonder how
that could happen
to someone
who grows up
in
Southern California.
so i've taken it
upon myself
to spread the world
of the apostle
jerry
and his merry
band
of
knap.

goodnight moon.