I Don't Write With An Outline. I

The Way America Works, And The Way L.a. Works, Is A Very Small Percentage Of People Get What They Want Out Of Life, And A Much Greater Percentage Try Very Very Hard And They Don't. That's Just The Way It Is.

I Hope Nobody Took The Razzle Dazzle Rose.

I Close My Eyes And I Take A Deep Breath And I Think About My Life And How I Ended Up This Way. I Think About The Ruin, Devastation And Wreckage I Have Caused To Myself And To Others. I Think About Self-hatred And Self-loathing. I Think About How And Why And What Happened And The Thoughts Come Easily, But The Answers Don't.

Practice Not Wanting, Desiring, Judging, Doing, Fighting, Knowing. Practice Just Being. Everything Will Fall Into Place.

I Turn And I Look Back Across The Lake. The Mist Is Gone And The Ice Diminished, The Drip Of The Icicles Quick And Heavy. The Sun Is Up And The Sky Is Blue Empty Blue Light Blue Clear Blue. I Would Drink The Sky If I Could Drink It, Drink It And Celebrate It And Let It Fill Me And Become Me. I Am Getting Better. Empty And Clear And Light And Blue. I Am Getting Better.