This blog is welcome to anyone and everyone, regardless of race, class, gender, sexual orientation, or political affiliation. Unless you don't like writing short stories or smelling bear. Or if you voted for the other guy. Also, I don't really like it when you leave up the toilet seat, so could you stop doing that? Muchas, muchas gracias.
again - and I suppose I COULD work on my play, but instead, here I am. I guess I'd rather feel as though I'm addressing someone who's kind of like me. I mean, even though I go to many, many plays, I don't think of the playgoing audience as mine - not necessarily. My audience might just as soon see a movie or go bowling or plant some tomatoes. 
Labels: insomnia, playwriting, tomatoes, writing
posted by 
ing at 1:35 AM
In each eye there is an apple/ Buried there before the eye/ And out of sockets come the branches/ And from the branches dangle I ❦ Will Oldham, “God’s Small Song”
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2 Comments:
insomnia is tough to write through, yet visually here it is, a tomato plant growing in height as those posed to touch the sky.
like your play.
9:01 PM
you are so sweet and wonderful
12:32 PM
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