I had a bumpy day at work today because this writing job I have just isn’t working. It got off to a weird start, and it’s clear that it’s not going to work. It’s not even worth emoting about, it’s just a goodbye. It didn’t work. I’m making my exit and making room for something else, something that brings me bounty, not a scrap. I’m reenvisioning my life because I came to a point in it when I thought, this can’t be it. This can’t be my life. I felt like I didn’t recognize the life I was living was mine, like, it can’t be this, and so, I’m shifting to go find out what that looks like.
It’s challenging thinking this way, literally speaking. I have a challenging time actually thinking sometimes because these gurus who came into my life sort of channel through me while I’m thinking, or, performing a mental processing, which is deeply infuritating. I didn’t have this “problem” to work out before, as their belief system can imbue my thoughts, and I have to ask them to leave, in my mind, which I learned at an energy workshop or battle a little between their belief system I took on and what I actually believe. I disagree.
I didn’t see this coming, and it’s still shocking, looking back on it, that I gave these people the time of day. So, I’m still processing… processing this out…just whatever influence they had on me. It was just terrible. I felt like I waltzed into a room where I met only enablers, people or situations that only brought out the worst in me. I’ve never felt that way before. I was only in my thirties, but even this guru telling me that thirty is a “baby,” was, un-useful. I was not a baby.
It helps to be stark naked about it, brutally honest, because these people messed with my head, heart, soul. But now I’m here. I have to be grateful that I am, I have to love myself more deeply and envision a future for myself even brigther than the last dream I had… I have to make a reach, rather than shrink. I just didn’t need to be here. I could have bought a house with the money I had. I look at these men I got involved with and feel like a fool. What a stupid choice I made.
I keep meditating on this idea that there is always a way though I didn’t want to be in this position when I could have been buying a house in Sorrento with the money I had. There is always a way. Even if it’s a long shot, or highly improbable, there is always a way, theoretically. Theoretically, a way always exists, but what that way is, now, that, that, I do not know…I do not know what the way is, so I’ve been experimenting with holding that thought in mind and allowing myself to be at peace with it, allowing ideas and thoughts to come to mind. I came back to New York because I felt like I, in my heart of hearts, wanted to be a performer of some kind, so I’m reflecting on that. That’s first. I never took action on that dream, and I arrived at a point in my life when I thought, I do not want to regret my life. I had decided not to pursue that in the past, and I might have really wanted to, so I came back to land, ground, anchor down, and hold on tight — somewhere, anywhere, and not let go. I have to remind myself of that sometimes because I just got back two months ago and I’m 39 not 20, and so, there’s so much uncertainty in it, and I’m figuring out what the way is, and I’m not even married to anything… I’m just trying to find abundance, not regret. I never even knew I could regret! I don’t care in which direction that takes me, even, I’m thinking about businesses I could start, new ideas as nothing I’ve done thus far has really taken off.
In that vein, I ended up at Sip and Guzzle this evening.
I stopped by Pisellino for a panini and Negroni first. I had met with a musician earlier, a guitarist. I’ve been jamming with musicians lately because I want to sing again and get gigs—that’s a goal I have right now. Afterwards, I stopped by that tiny corner bar, Pisellino, and then, headed to my friend’s bar which recently won a prestigious award — Best New U.S. Cocktail Bar Spirit Award — which is the Academy Award of bars, apparently, something like that. He totally deserves it, because the Japanese fusion cocktails are amazing. It used to be Cornelia Street Bakery, so the brick is exposed, and it has a neighborhood bar feel but designed, and the cocktails are spectacular. This time, I got a drink that tasted like mint chocolate champagne. It rained today… but it was warm out, so the air was muggy and humid, but it felt more like a warm blanket, not hot, but a bath, a bath you didn’t want to get out of it. This cocktail sounded so intriguing, and I couldn’t stop drinking it. Anyway, I digressed.
I went down a tangent about Steve’s bar, Sip and Guzzle. To bring it back to the subject — nothing I’ve done has really taken off thus far in my life, and I happened to be sitting next to a woman who handles Employee’s Only social media and a young man who lives on the block, Cornelia Street. Nice people. He designs games for apps. They’re both 37. She happened to stumble into doing social for bars, and it was like a domino effect, where it worked out, one thing led to another, and now she gets to be creative all the time… and I’m sort of looking for that effect.
I was telling them that I was restructuring my life, so I was relinquishing writing a little bit because I don’t want writing to be my 9-5 job. I didn’t even know how I got here, but people go into professions and decide later that they wanted to change careers, so I’m contending with writing being that for me. And honestly, in my case, I think anyone hearing how crazy that road was, the weirdos I met, some shaman telling me “despair” was within me (lol), I think they would understand why I’m wanting to flush it all down the toilet. Like…uh, nevermind. Didn’t want to be a writer that bad. I don’t know if the Hero’s Journey talk was necessary.
If I wanted to write for The New York Times or The New Yorker that would be one thing, or if I had a beat that I was passionate about, so I’m sort of thinking about that, but I don’t know if writing was my true dream. They got that. So, I’m trying to figure out if I want to let go of it besides writing books, as I’ve surrendered to the fact that nothing I’ve done has worked, and that writing books might be a slower burn. I hope I’ve corrected my thinking, approach, as even telling ME that I was intuitive messed me up. Not the point. I’m from goddamn Jersey, also. My family is from goddamn New Jersey, we don’t give a shit. You want a psychic? I can picture my Aunt Jane… being hilariously disgusted with all this. “These people telling you your psychic…”
I’m trying to conceive of another direction that would please me when it comes to writing perhaps. Like, if I started a business, then I could write content for that business. That’s what I mean. Right now, reading books and thinking about how I’d like to approach a book is fun, easier, now that I’ve gotten rid of the “the most successful version of this exists…” like who gives a shit? I’m thinking about how to put my story out there on social media, but that feels like a nightmare, quite frankly, because who wants to talk about child molestation? Who wants to go, so “both my parents were mentally ill,” you know, “and that took a lifetime,” and so, am I trying to be Jay Shetty? Mel Robbins? Am I trying to diffuse wisdom? I’m feeling into that.
People hate their families, that I know. In Italy, that’s funny. To my cousins, that’s amusing and perplexing. “What do you mean, Maria?” And then, you have to picture my voice BLURTING in broken Italian. “In the journals of today,” meaning newspapers, “IN America,” emphasis on IN, to which they’d cascade, “in Maria IN? In Maria IN?” Giggino would NEED to know more. “SI, IN America, the people speak of this, before Christmas, it is written that you can survive your family during the holidays like this… with one, two, three, four suggestions of surviving your family… at Christmas…” that silenced them. “What are you talking about? People don’t like spending time with their families?” Drinking my wine, I shook my head no, “no,” they didn’t believe me. “No, really, people in the United States DO NOT LIKE their families…” My cousins called it “Dante,” again, “this was Dante,” because they believe I am Dante, for real. I went through the “USA family Inferno” in their minds and that was part of it. I had to laugh. They found it weird even. People not liking their families…
I’ve been looking at accounts where people play characters, so maybe I can play the characters in my family story, as I’m looking to put on a show, actually, and I woke up this morning feeling a bit defeated because I didn’t want this story to dominate my life. No offense. The way people could respond to me was very strange, confusing, and troubling, but here’s the point: you’re not the only one there, people are self-serving, you see what I mean? This you create your own reality routine, this guru, I’ll never forgive him, for ACTING superior when he couldn’t have been more harmful, thought that’s not entirely true, evidently. I needed people who understood what relationships were. He did not. This was not his strong suit at all, and he knew it.
Now, I would have gone out, tried to meet someone, and let it be. I don’t know if I NEEDED TO SUCCEED only in one direction, according to this guru, like WRITING THIS BOOK WOULD CHANGE MY LIFE. There’s no point in saying it, but I look back, the day this man walked into my life, wishing I had never opened my mouth. That took me down a road that isn’t filled with any real connection, as this man didn’t know how to, nor love. There was no love down this road. None.
I tried to be open to opportunities that came my way, when I wished I was much more focused. Being told by this slytherin to think like Joan Didion, but then, while I was crossing Washington Square Park on my way to Sip and Guzzle, I thought, well, maybe I should read her. Maybe I am Joan Didion inside, and I need to accept it, lol. I hope to do well, it’s not that, it’s more so that I haven’t done well thus far. Sure, I want to help myself sell books or build a platform for myself, but how to do that? It’s not quite clear to me. And no, please, unless you have a track record, do not share your opinion. Especially given the content that’s in my story. Think. Aretha Franklin—you better think. Think about what you’re trying to do to me. She’s not saying, I better think about the reality I’m creating… and why I drew you in… lyrics like this wouldn’t resonate with anybody, “not good.” These lyrics suck. There’s no poetry in them, even. I’ve been feeling, speaking of spiritual support, the Jane, the one and only Aunt Jane supporting me because that was… a dark road I ended up on.
It’s easy now that I worked out these strange kinks I had, but being subsumed into another family, I would have rathered kept my distance, quite frankly, and pursued acting… it’s very simple. But my father was sick, you know. I admire Leonardo di Caprio because he was so young. He did what I couldn’t do. Now, it’s true, I might be struggling with regret a bit, but only because I want it out of my system. And I’m not wasting any time, regardless. It’s easier for me to put myself out there now, as I’ve had to not shrink, but assume people want me there, assume the position of speaking…I speak more clearly now… all of that is progress. Interacting with normal people, going to bars, all that… that’s more of the direction I wanted to go in, not drown in “self development,” basically. Steve would agree. This guy, his own brother left him to die, and he woke up in a hospital after being in a coma for a month, so his career in the military was DONE, over, dashed, and he walked into Employees Only and found his path…and he’s one of the top bartenders in the world, with many bars thriving out there… he loves what he does, he’s behind the bar, all the time.
He’s my inspiration. He’s also my movie idea, wink, one of them. He came back from the dead, literally. He gets money from the VA due to his head injury, and he shared how he had to undergo a psychiatric evaluation as it had been ten years, something like that, and he cried, and he thought that part of his life was over, but it’s still with him, which surprised him, and I found that to be brave. Forget “arrows,” or whatever this guru was trying to say vaguely, about feeling arrows… and how hard it is for a man to feel. I’ll stick with Steve, lol. That was NOT my problem, exactly.
I was definitely ethereal, by the time I got to my book, for sure, I had no idea what to do, I approached it as an intuitive, and I had no idea why I was drowning. And the thing is, these people didn’t care that I was drowning, they didn’t even cared if I died, only that, I was psychic. With this slytherin assuming that I could even like the male I got involved with, after all that. Stupid. He just looked like a crazy person. So it wasn’t exactly disturbing… in the way he might have thought it was. He just sounded disturbed. Telling me after I left this job he hooked me up with, because of racism, that he didn’t want me to go through anymore pain. That was rich, all things considered. Wow. That was deeply disturbing, for sure. But “sure, cool,” just get out.
I’m just trying to cultivate abundance in my life. I want to meet someone, but I want to meet the one, even. You know, there are people who have met that person, who really feel that way. I suppose you never know in life, so that’s not my problem, but I’m looking for that person. Maybe I’ll have kids, if I can. Like now, I would have had like six, maybe, lol. I had a lot of love to give, actually. I know that I can figure something out that would fulfill me and bring me the success that I know if possible. That’s not a problem. I didn’t need “help” like that. I didn’t need people getting involved in my life. I didn’t need “support” like that, I didn’t need some guru shoving me into “getting a new family” AGAIN with my cousins who are not interested. I am a cousin, and even that line got blurred AGAIN with two of my cousins. Crazy.
Leave me alone. I am not a toy. Go check your own emotions. So THAT royally did not work. And this guru — dancing around like an idiot in his mind — telling me to “go back to Italy,” was retarded, even, literally, because I AM NOT ITALIAN for the love of God. I am AMERICAN. I was born and raised in AMERICA. Ever go on vacation? Meet some cousins? Jesus. Ridiculous. “Go back to Italy.” These gurus were so stupid, like, would THEY appreciate if some cousin showed up to their house after they got out of the hospital????? Would they be opening up their house??? Think about it. Guess what? People don’t give a shit. That’s true. Not their problem. His brother? Not the right person to talk to. Fuck free, it’s called— get a fucking job and take care of yourself. This guru only encouraged weaknesses.
Even if he INTENDED not to, but think. Aretha Franklin. There’s POWER behind the words for good reason. “YOU BETTER THINK.” It’s easy to say all this when you are in a position of choice. When you’re in a clearer relationship with self. When you’re not interested in some MALE’s power play, no offense. Jesus, just boundaries, just “who gives a fuck about your story?” That took a second to get to. “Who gives a shit where you came from?” So you’re writing a book about it, big whoopie! You have joined the thousands doing so… I’m not precious, I’m not sentimental. You can fuck off, that’s the attitude (lol). I’m sure you’re a genius, I can even bet MONEY on it, you are a genius, you know things…superiorly. I’ve seen it before.
“Weird men,” Gary said.
I have to get a job, fast. That’s first. I can then get into acting… as I seek to do… try that out. I’m not concerned with writing, the book will…finish itself, I’m working on the book proposal exclusively right now. I don’t know what to do about money, but I’d like to feel smart. I felt so stupid, Jesus, wow. These men all had money, so it surprised me that they took the perspective that they had. Like, if a girl is living for free in an apartment, does that look like she’s smart about money? Putting all her eggs into one book basket? Because it will “change my life.” Whoosh. Poor advice right there. So putting myself around these men with money taught me nothing.
Is there a business I could start? I have a Substack and Medium page, but these aren’t working for me in any capacity, so who cares? So, now, I’m taking a step back and assessing what I can do that would work. I’m trying to think creatively as to how I could generate an attractive income for myself. I hope that I’m right in some capacity that I want to perform, and that will bring me what I desire, of course, it’s just life is bigger than that, too. I’m building that over time. I gotta get back to the mics, keep on developing material, but I slowed down a minute so I could take breather and settle my immediate need, which is money. I hope I get this job at the Marquee, because I think, at least, I could make real money there. I’m thinking about my point of view as an actor, or just what I’m interested in doing. Maybe I’ll be pleasantly surprised, I don’t know, as I seek that domino effect, I seek to find that ease.
Yeah, no offense, writing wasn’t that big of a deal, to the slytherin, who took himself to be a touch too genius, I’m sorry, and to the guru, he cared about my story in a very strange way. He clearly isn’t in touch with his feelings. He clearly can’t take responsibility for himself. His choices. Because he’s an almighty meditator who made some movies… I doubt Spielberg would have… done what he did. He wouldn’t have the time… even if he did. Perhaps he would enjoy gardening… and I would have enjoyed watching him trim his roses then talk to him about my story. Just to be brutally honest. Just trimming roses. No talk. Maybe I’d offer him a glass of lemonade, something simple. But I guess, to some, I had something to work out, because I ended up in these corners. I keep just letting it go… I don’t even need to analyze it. But that last decade totally side-swiped me, like, where I lost the will the live, even, just because, my life got blown to pieces. That wasn’t a constructive road. It was destructive. And that’s what the guru is. He was a destroyer.
I don’t know if I was abused back there, somewhere… and I need to fix my money problem to be able to keep seeing this specialist who thinks I might have been based on what I was saying. I’ll take that step by step, because I don’t know what to say about my parents now, so writing a book, no offense, but who cares? I’ll get there. It’s beyond terrible, look, to not know if your own family abused you? Come on. Disgusting. So “how am I doing?” Um, depends? That goes to my friends, you know, like, it’s a bit touch and go since I had to totally start over. Totally.
So, this musician I played with — wow, he was bad, sorry, I’ll just say that quickly here. But that’s okay, that’s par for the course, that’s just getting out there and meeting a world. I sound good, though, and this guy, I don’t know why, but he’s more of a punk guy. It was fun singing Blondie, though she’s not punk, or Kiss Me by Sixpense None the Richer, sure. Why not? Every time I go and sing, it’s my birthday, more or less, even if I didn’t have that much fun, and he didn’t treat my money with respect. I paid for that rehearsal space, so I expect you to be on time, as I would have been if you paid for it. So that’s that. Easy. Thus far, you see, the pianist I played with was so skilled, that it made the guitarist stand out as not as skilled as this man. So that’s good, I found someone, and we’ll take it to the next step… I need someone serious and polished. So that’s fine, I’ll meet with some others, but I need money, literally, to continue, so I will hopefully hear good news this week. I need to.
I’ll keep going, obviously. I do not want to meditate, not really. I keep reminding myself without any need for “help,” as it’s usually around these thoughts, that the guru and co. can appear… like I didn’t need help in my thinking… not like this. So, I asked them to leave. I suppose I feel like I’m on track, like I can successfully navigate through this tight spot, as I knew it would be, and I don’t think I’m limiting myself by being real, like I didn’t have any money, I didn’t have a support system out here either, though I have friends, who I’d like to keep very very very far away from this story, as it tends to change their perception of me, which is really not fun, so there’s no point in it. None. You gotta learn. Being against the world, in a sense, doesn’t help. Just don’t do it. So I keep strict boundaries—tall walls, very very tall walls. And no, I have no interest in letting you in. I can direct you to a TV. Have a nice time. That’s what it’s for. Glad I’m touching, looking over at Barbara Harris slightly confused, but that turned out to be… not that fun.
So, now, I’m probably going to let this blog go. I’ll start something else if there’s any point to. I need to spend my free time working on what I am, a piece about Barbara Harris, reading for my book, researching businesses I could start, or the material I’m working on at these open mics. It’s easier, I feel better even, when I think in the direction of performing than the writing one, though there is a way to better conceive of this portion of my life. There is. I know that.
I do feel better being here, in New York. So, that’s settled. This delusional spin of traveling. As a tip, if someone gets out of the hospital, they should probably lay low for a while. Since the THERE IS NO LIMITATIONS TO THE SELF sounded even cruel, come on. Be real. I was going to have to recover, that was not the time to see my cousins, sorry, they are conservative Neapolitans who have no idea what any of that stuff was, trauma, even, this isn’t their arena. They’re not my family like that, which was painful enough, quite frankly, to realize in that state when I didn’t even want to be here. This was not the way.
So now I have to wait for them to clear as, their thought forms begin to bother me, as “we telepathically communicate?” “As the future writes the past?” You see. They aren’t “helping me…” they are just thought forms, not psychological devices, just please. Do people actually believe in what they believe in? It was always my question. They are just thoughts in my head as I had to work through whatever I absorbed from this guru, this arrogant prick, suddenly back the roses, with Spielberg. He’s chill. I need a minute. Maybe I’ll go to “Color Me Mine,” remember that, and just paint pottery, for the love of Christ, just to focus on the present moment. The only real thing there is, really, though Jim Carrey comes to mind because he believes in manifesting. That’s not my problem, obviously, and no, my psychicness doesn’t cripple me, and that’s to my stupid ex. Stupid.
So you can get bad advice, therapy, folks, from people who don’t even have a license to practice. If the guru and his brother were in love with me, as their sister thought they…might be…?? Which is strange as a sentence to begin with? Shame on her. That’s what my friend said, unless she was lying. Sam. “They were going to fall in love with her,” and no, it’s not funny. It’s creepy. Ever feel like a goddamn eight year old with a goddamn mushroom cut? Like I was just a fucking kid? That’s how I feel sometimes, like I was a kid, jerk, before I was an “attractive woman” to you? Since I cannot even read through all this, given his pompous attitude. I think he deserves a real cold hard slap across the face. Wake up. All safe in his Bel Air house. Spielberg is… moving on with his day… lol… not getting involved…
Is it really Spielberg, is he really going to come into my life? Is it NOT — guru — about the image but rather the FEELING? Just ridiculous. Remember Only You 1994? “I’m getting a name…”
“His name,” in an accent, “is Damon Bradley.”
I’ll try and play a psychic, I will, on the phone — with clients — as I move through the world. I’m wearing a fanny pack, going to Ralphs, and responding to what they’re saying to me via what’s happening around me. Like someone knocks into a rack of magazine, “uh oh, this isn’t the just path.” I have “a special way of working, of communicating with the divine…as the divine is found in the every day…” so regarding boxes of flour… “it’s time to make something of all this, it’s time to find the BASE ingredient in this adverse experience that will allow you to RISE… this is what I am seeing…” maybe I will work on it. Just me, handsfree, fanny pack, going through my day and speaking to people… “there’s success in this,” picking up a mag carefully, even, “there seems to be, but it might not look like you think it would…” So, excuse me, I have to pay for my gum. as I just “let the spirit move me… where I must go…and in this case it was Ralphs Supermarket.”
When I think like this, I tend to feel better. As these people called me THE MOST PSYCHIC SO PSYCHIC person, that within 20 minutes of meeting me, they’re saying I’m psychic, they’re saying I would have spoken to animals in the 15th century, like go jack off… elsewhere. How dare you, what an insulting comment. Anyway, there’s redemption in the pain, evidently, there’s gold in the psychicness, especially me using the supermarket to help people on their path to their best lives. “So this,” looking at wood, “look, you’re almost out, it’s not the time, you’re thinking, oh, there’s some gorgeous fireplace in this house where there’s no such thing, hunny, this is not where you are, you are making shit up that’s not there. This relationship only burned you, there’s no… point, really. When you get to the end, sometimes you remember the beginning, when it smelled so good, and it seemed like you found home, I know, but it’s just not the way. There aren’t countless bags of wood before you… like you made a mistake… no, you didn’t. You gotta just keep walking out… leave.” And I leave. “Trust me.” Now, looking both ways, “don’t be an idiot, running out and forgetting that people can slam into you, at this time, be careful, you’re getting into the vehicle, you’re taking your time, making sure everything is set up properly… and then, you leave, calmly, with a sense of where you are going…” no worries. Driving into the sunset, “there’s another day, beauty that awaits you in the breakdown, of course, as we learned from that song from Garden State.” And truly, maybe, someone would pay me to do this, lol.
These are my true dreams, now. I never thought, you know, that I would be psychic, it’s not something you can predict. But I am, and I want to use these gifts to help people, people like you. (whoever is on the phone.) So I might make videos, try to, or keep working on how to… turn all this into gold, needing to study Jim Carrey or work on the mask. My face. The psychic at the supermarket, no? I was being pulled into the supermarket to help this person through this break up. “A carnage, child,” looking at the red meat. Butcher. “Yikes.” But there are “other sections, bounty…” looking at produce. So I’ll keep working. I’ll keep letting go of what I don’t actually care about, ever feel that way? Like you’re holding onto scraps, because you can’t see other options? Writing felt that way, in the end, when…maybe I’ll have a better time now that I’ve cleared my mind of this strange road I took…
Being like, “why are you creating the reality of…” that’s so confusing, when it’s easier to just say, “maybe you don’t really want to do this?” Is it that big of a deal? Can anything and everything work for a person? I don’t think so. I had a problem with focus, for sure, so hopefully I worked out those kinks.
And if it’s true about my father, that sucks, that’s a terrible thing to not know, not have to realize that some Brazilian lady you didn’t even KNOW, so there’s another realization that Spielberg — just tossed to me — from the roses… who the hell are these people??? Jesus. She didn’t even know how my mother handled me, and please, is there someone with a heart? Do you know how utterly shocking and heartbreaking that is? That my mother is whipping her breast out (lol because I have to) at kids parties, and behaving inappropriately with me — in front of a woman. I get, “Well, you know, there are no reliable narrators here…” hm. In any case, my parents sucked, sucked for real. And this sexual trauma specialist is just taking notes. “This woman didn’t even know how SHE handled me, I mean…” I needed a second there.
So with a fire extinguisher — boom, I’m releasing the white shit all over these men… all over. Stay away. You were a moving fire. If, again, this was necessary in some capacity, so be it. I can accept that. I made these decisions, evidently, it was more coming to understand that I am not the only one there, I’m not the only one in my relationships, and not wanting to be. I want to be with people who understand, at least, basically, what a relationship is. There’s you and me in it. Is that fair?
So that’s it, wish me luck at the club, today, I’m going to dress a little sexy, which makes me nervous, only because I hope I’m hitting the right note. I’m going to laugh if not. But I just got a shorter dress. Maybe I’ll wear the white slip, if that’s more lowkey. Anyway, I’ll figure this part out. I have to get ready, and worse comes to worse, I’ll have to take out my rent… which costs me money, as this is an investment firm, so everytime I do, it costs me money. Luckily, I cut off that bastard, the guru, like spend your IRA money, what a ridiculous suggestion. It was unnecessary.
I was in the hospital. Not the time. All I want to do is just hug myself, like stop, this man is toxic. All these people are toxic. And they were. They only enabled me. So I went through something like that, a clown show of enablers, and I wasn’t quite hinged right, obviously. Again, manifest destiny, absolutely. I could throw a cocktail in the guru’s face. So — moving on. I am not going to get back at them, not like this, but I needed to clear my heart and head and body… and imagine fun videos of being psychic… out in the world… the great big world… a for sale sign goes up…
“Okay,” I say, not too sure, but open to it, “okay, keep going, tell me more…” driving through a neighborhood, “uh huh,” sure, “I’m a bit confused…” lol. Maybe I should make YouTube videos, instead. These segments. Looking at sprinkles, confections, back in the supermarket, “this feels decorative to me, this feels… like,” not too sure about it, “unneessary. This isn’t where you are… you need to get there… “
“I know, but there’s NOTHING to put this stuff on…”
So—onwards. To more characters, monologues, ideas…