No One Ever Likes The Right Person.

I Come To A Red Light, Tempted To Go Through It, Then Stop Once I See A Billboard Sign That I Don’t Remember Seeing And I Look Up At It. All It Says Is 'disappear Here' And Even Though It’s Probably An Ad For Some Resort, It Still Freaks Me Out A Little And I Step On The Gas Really Hard And The Car Screeches As I Leave The Light.

I Learned That You Really Don't Have Any Control As A Writer. Waah, Waah, Waah. Big Deal. Unless You're The Director On The Movie, Or Putting Up The Money For The Movie, You Really Don't Have A Lot Of Control. As Someone Who's Just Writing Scripts, You Just Kind Of Have To Shrug. I Have No Problems Or Issues With Screenwriting In General. It Is What It Is.

I Stare Into A Thin, Web-like Crack Above The Urinal's Handle And Think To Myself That If I Were To Disappear Into That Crack, Say Somehow Miniaturize And Slip Into It, The Odds Are Good That No One Would Notice I Was Gone. No... One... Would... Care. In Fact Some, If They Noticed My Absence, Might Feel An Odd, Indefinable Sense Of Relief. This Is True: The World Is Better Off With Some People Gone. Our Lives Are Not All Interconnected. That Theory Is Crock. Some People Truly Do Not Need To Be Here.

Exploitation Is A Harsh Word, I Know That, But On A Certain Level, To Me That Is The Central Hollywood Story.

I Kept Staring Into The Blackness Of The Woods, Drawn Into The Darkness As I Always Had Been. I Suddenly Realized How Alone I Was. (but This Is How You Travel, The Wind Whispered Back, This Is How You've Always Lived.)