If you take Satan for a ride, pretty soon he’ll want to drive

Why DO we post here? What DO you want to read about? Since Satan has declined my offer of a ride, I decided to take on hitchhikers. You. Get in, shut up, hang on. No, strike that. Don’t shut up. Can’t stand that. Just don’t talk over the Rush songs, eh?

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking in the past few days, about the hours allotted to me. Funny how I am spending time doing the hours instead of doing the stuff. Reading, writing, business. It’s a cycle but it’s a very good cycle. Today was reading and writing. More writing. Screenplay. Prose. A thought for putting a book together. Organizing the files to make it go.

I’ve also realized I’m a bit TOO restrained. Yes, stop laughing. Me. My hair is currently red and brown and golden, short and spiky. I’ve been working out daily but it’s not enough. I am fixated, concentrated, searching for a habit. The truth is, there isn’t one. I’m not a habit kind of nun, if you know what I mean. I’m a naked jelly bean full of color and weird taste. I was just thinking about getting in the car and driving. Talking. Meeting people. Seeing what’s out there. Just for a few days. A mini lose-my-mind if you will. Time to crank up the Volvo (gotta love that turbo) and the Chevron card and see what is out there. Camera? Check. Underwear? Check. Socks? Check. Rabbit slippers? Check. Let’s boogie!

Move over, Satan, you’re burnin’ a hole in my seat. Bogart.


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