Just got back from Mount Ireneaus Thursday. Right now I'm in the guest bedroom--because my brother is in my actual bedroom--recovering after 14 hours of movie making with my friends. Exhausted, warm, but wired. Not sure what it is.
I haven't written today, so that could be the culprit. Next question: what to write about? After spending 9 weeks
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• You reap what you sow.
• I am just a passenger in the car. Someone or something else is steering.
• I must be here for a reason, because I can think of at least half a dozen episodes in my life where I should have been or could have been dead.
• Said reason may never be clear to me.
And when I get right down to it, life boils down to two questions:
• When do I get paid?
• Where can I buy some beer around here?
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