Obsessive need to touch base. Stop.
Work is a merciless whore that will not let up, constantly busy. Stop.
Tired in a whole body sort of way that pharmaceuticals, coffee and Surfer Rosa era Pixies will not touch. Stop.
Once again going to rehearsal straight after work where I will do a scene that exhausts me to my soul, it’s a good thing, but no less exhausting. Stop.
Ever wonder why telegrams say stop all the time? Stop.
Stopped on the way home from rehearsal last night, sitting on a rock in the summer warm darkness, to talk to Hippy Jonny about life and things but mostly about his relationship that had ended and badly, and had a sudden realization that I cannot pick up everyone, but I can at least try to help dust them off. Stop.
If this were a real telegram, that last line would have cost me like three bottles of good whisky. Stop.
Telegram Sam, you’re my main man. Stop.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
just wanted to let you know i happen to think you're brilliant at the dusting off. stop.
Post a Comment