- Rehearsing for the opening of a show written by a 6’4″, gay, ginger, Christian semi-socialist who loves and comforts my soul. It’s about a “temp agency” of sorts that helps ex-cons find work after they get out.
- Putting off doing laundry.
- Itching to leave town. There is a balm in Gilead, which I hear tell is just a couple thousand miles west of here.
Dinner tonight will involve tuna fish, which I love.
I should be working on my lines.
Sorry for the silence lately, but my brain’s all muzzy and tired.
Whadd’ya say, Lord? You? Me? Envelope of used greenbacks stuffed under the ladies’ room door? I’ll keep my eyes peeled.