WEd Ness Day
So as we were walking by F’s old job yesterday, I coaxed him into going in, you know, just to see. I didn’t think that he would be capable of paying the rent on my place alone unless he got another job, which was not unfounded. Now he will be working 5 days per week total, having Thurs/Fri off as he does do the Brunch shift still on the weekends. He is the WORST person to wake up, period, and though never pulls punches, is a whiny baby when he has to be riled out of bed with less than 8 hours of sleep.
Today is about finishing prior engagements for the Redbull folk so I don’t starve in my jobless state. I apparently will be working a party for Amanda Baird(sp?) tomorrow evening that Redbull is sponsoring so.
Money is coming.
I realize that I am the most productive creatively and most expressively when I am being emotionally tortured. When things are all crispy fried and messed up, my writing gets better, my expression gets louder, I am a more in-your-face kind of truth.
Lately, I feel just whipped. It’s that invigorating kind of whipped where I psychotically exclaim at points not things like “let’s do a magazine and light the whole world up”, but things like “let’s write children’s books”. haahahahahahahahahahaahahah
How crazy is that? Where have I gone to? Where is angry bitter pissed off Deanna, the Deanna that would claw your throat out with words, the deanna who wants to set off bombs to make people look and see what is going on in the world around them?
I guess that Deanna is on a vacation. She is about to get revealed again in her backwards dream state, because my dreams are still violent and murderous. I am constantly murdered, drowned, flying away.
In my fiction, I can still be me. The non-fiction is a little too vomitous to regurgitate all over here right now.
