(10:00PM EST – promoted by Nightprowlkitty)
There are Sundays when I don’t have much in the way of words. At least not much in the way of my words.
This is apparently one of them.
I mean, I had a story just before I fell asleep last night and it migrated into a dream, I’m pretty sure, but as these things happen, when I woke up, it was gone. I have a little suspicion of what it was about, but if I try to force it, I know I will be displeased with the result, that it wouldn’t end up being what it wanted to be.
So I’m going to leave that up to my subconscious to play and do with what it will. Maybe the story will reappear and maybe it won’t.
Meanwhile, I’m supposed to be learning some lines from Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues. We have rehearsals Monday and Tuesday nights and it’s show time on Wednesday and Thursday.
Specifically, my part comes from They beat the girl out of my boy…or so they tried.
But I’ve spent most of the day with my art program instead.
Click on the images for larger views.
I live now in the female zone
but you know how people feel about immigrants.
They don’t like it when you come from someplace else.
They don’t like it when you mix.
They killed my boyfriend.
They beat him insanely while he slept
with a baseball bat.
They beat this girl out of his head.
They didn’t want him dating a foreigner,
even though she was pretty and she listened and was kind.
They didn’t want him falling in love with ambiguity.
They were scared he’d get lost.
They were that terrified of love.