My Cardboard Balcony

Wow. My sister's wedding was incredible. Deadline Week was not. Things are better, but they're also worse. The defensiveness. The attitude. The inability to follow through. I got good advice from someone I consider a mentor, but I have to wonder if I'm going to see repeats of last year. As in moments in which I'll have to step in. Moments in which I'll be the one creating this book. Writing it. Completing it. I'd rather write and complete my original work. I want to publish my novel. I want to finish my latest play. My latest episode of Goza. I want my viewership to return to this blog. It's heartbreaking to see how far it's fallen. In a time in which I felt like I was moving up and building up. Now everything's feels like it's deconstructing. Dismantling. All done by invisible hands. Not my hands. Can I get a reprieve, please? Can I just get a single reprieve? ...Wow, that was mopey. Time to go to bed. Have a great night an

If Einstein Were Occupied by Belinda Roddie I can't tell you what e equals. I'm too busy.

Somehow, I don't find nuance anymore in the green seaweed hue of a microshore, or the orange skyline above my head, or any of the secondary colors that remind me of all my basic, primary components. You drape me in purple, but I don't feel like royalty; I just feel overdressed. I'd rather sit in the rain outside on a day devoid of color, where everyone's shadows blend together, and the dark gray mess holds stars behind its allegedly lifeless eyes.