OOHHHH…BLAAA, BLAAA, BLAAA, BLAAA…..
I don’t like writing in this hotel room. The computer table is directly in front of a big ass mirror. You sit down after a long week, pour yourself a libation and start to ponder into a work document. Occasionally you look up and in a quick flash you think “Holy Toledo, who is that,… oh crap.., it’s me…” and the time no longer goes to writing, it turns to all the nuances of your face, and the years it has transitioned, and the minuteness of it all, and the simultaneous hugeness of all of it………..oohhhh, blaaa, blaaa, blaaa, blaaa……on with it I say….