This is old, but I shortened my self-portrait video and so I cut/pasted the writing from that and threw it here:
If only I were a dog, I'd be saturated with interest as I look out the window and love completely what my neighbor is doing with his trash. Why the hell is he waiting until next Friday to leave his trash with the trash men? I guess I'd like to be able to sniff butts and everyone be fine with it.
I especially can't see so great when my ashtray is overflowing from empty thoughts and a thought that might come if I just gave up and came back later.
I bet you authors drink a lot and get pretty drunk when they find out that some movie director wants to do a film-adaptation of one of their novels. Even if this crappy director calls me up and asks me, I'd be pretty flattered. It's as if they can see so vividly the image you're trying to evoke and they just plain love it.
Everyone will see a moon before they die and just might love it the way I love it, pristine, stark purity - like the glow of a bell that soothes your spirit and helps you sleep. That will keep you tight in fair dreams and you won't have to drown in such disclosing nightmares.
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