Well now...
I started the day with more money in my bank account than the night before. My last job, it seems, finally paid me the raise that was given to me back in June, or was it May? I left that company end of August for one thing because they didn’t pay me, but I guess they now saw fit to give me the money anyway. Was the money an apology? Because really, that’s not an apology. I certainly wasn’t expecting the money anymore that’s why I left. Still, it was cool of them to give me the money albeit almost nine weeks too late. Money, nice as it is, is not an apology. An apology would be them showing up at my apartment with 20 El Gordo crunchy beef tacos, and holding up a boom-box in my front yard playing the soundtrack to I, TONYA. People should apologize more with tacos... and soundtracks. I do miss working for them. A lot. I admit it. Breaking up is hard to do.
You must see (movie) BUTTER. It’s brilliant. Funny. And so entirely true. Every rebel, every wayward, every nonconformist, every runaway, every nerd, every artist, every person with a heart, soul, and independent thought, has always (always!) rooted for the underdog. You’ll love this film.
Brooke, the lovable hardened stripper in BUTTER, is cool AF. Reminds me of some ladies I used to know back in the day.😉But what Brooke does with the cash afterwards made her my hero. Miss Jill and Mr Ethan, love them.
The villain among revolutionaries has always been, will always be, the rich white self aggrandizing trespassing, asshole. Be rich. Be white. I have zero problems with rich and white. Live and let live. But add to that self-important, self-aggrandizing, trespassing, self-entitled, and you can just go fuck yourself.
Viva La Revolution! (bitch)
It never ceases to amaze me how those with so much to lose, OJ Simpson, think they can hurt those who have nothing to lose. I may have only one flower, but that one flower will mean more to me long after it dies, than your entire rose garden that, no matter how much you own and grow, will never come close to filling that giant empty hole in you. I’d feel sorry for you but, you made that void. It’s entirely your fault.
Money and power don’t buy happiness at my age. I’ve outlived three of my childhood friends who all died of cancer before their 50th birthday. I’ll be 51 in January. It puts things into a rather harsh perspective. Money’s nice but at my age I’d rather make art, read poetry, eek by, own nothing, and be surrounded by creative good kind people.
Yep. 51 years old in January. Once we hit 50, we could literally DIE any day.
If I had to reflect what my biggest accomplishment for 2019 was, it’s this...
I’ve proved several times this year, more so in the last few weeks, how the pen remains mightier than the sword. All the letters I’ve written in the last few weeks, around 15, have reached all intended recipients. Furthermore, all have written back with positive information and (shall we say) very keen interest in any developments.
The pen is mightier than the sword, honey.
At least mine is.
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