I'm not part of anything, but I have some cool things going on. I do a "show" on the Internet, but I don't wanna discuss it, that is, I don't want the me, the "now" me, to be mixed up with the person writing this pathetic frizzle.
For I used to, before writing scripts and doing neat stuff related to show biz (on the fringe of the fringe of the fringe), spend hours scribbling 'bout myself and my loneliness. But I don't feel alone anymore. That is, I'm alone... but not lonely.
Sometimes, though, a deep tragic sorrow will hit me from left field - usually I'm in right field and I'll miss the catch and the other team'll score.
Booooooooo!!!
It's a home game, and the crowd ignores me. They're booing at the other team rounding the bases, not at me for missing the catch.
They don't even know I exist.
See that's the thing: I've spent hours (and days and weeks and months and years) writing and nothing's come of it. I could give in to what others have said: that I have no talent. Well, only a few've said that: online kooks, jerkoffs, scumbags.
Others will acknowledge my talent as something that isn't surprising to them. "You're smart," they'll say. "And creative."
But I never want to hear the word "Potential." That's the last thing any "artist" wants to hear. There's no potential in having potential.
It's worse than the cherry goo inside boxed chocolate candy.
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