My Diary Screaming Out Loud

I'm naked in front of the crowd...


It's not even a bad dream, I'm doing this to myself.  I'm interesting, let me tell you why.  I won't write in a diary, because I'm afraid someone will find it and read it.  Yeah, me.  I'm not actually telling you about my real demons.  That shit I save for my therapist.  


I'm not actually naked here, I'm wearing a thin robe. A veil if you will. 


You have no idea how much I love doing this.  I mean writing.  It calms my soul.  It makes me sane.  It means so much to me.


I'm going to see my shrink today, he's a good guy.  He does not fuck around, he gives it to me straight.  But then he will read me poetry or tell me a joke or assign me to watch a movie.  He's tremendously gifted.  A genius in fact.


I wanted to be a psychologist when I was a kid but then I listened to a friend of mine who was suicidal, and I couldn't listen anymore to her problems.  Is that mean?


I mean I love the shit out of therapy.  Let's talk about nina for an hour.  It's all about me.  Is that narcissistic?


The mirror has two faces.  I'm not so happy when I look in the mirror at the moment.  But truthfully, I'm sort of going to do something about it, and kind of content right now with my life.


I don't have a man or any money.  But I have my thoughts.  I always thought that if you put me in jail, you could not take away my ability to write about it.  


I love that story.


Have you people watched Orange is the New Black?  It's brilliant.  It's based on a true story of a woman who ended up in jail.  She wrote about it. 


I'm so scared of the police, if there is a policeman behind me I'm like, "OK, I did it, I'm guilty.  How'd you know I have bad credit?  Yes I lied to my parents."  I'm so paranoid.


Apparently I'm not the only one, this guy I'm friends with has a panic attack when the police are around. 


On another train...on another note unrelated to anything...There are some really good writers out there and bloggers.  Blogging is sort of an art, I couldn't do this in a newspaper, maybe not even in a book.  It's like a hand written note.  It's so sloppy.


Many years from now, when aliens are dropping by, they will respect blogging as an art form.  Things have to be old before people respect them.  Right now, it's like, whatever, anyone can start a blog from their basement.  

 

True story, anyone can do this.  I personally am of the belief that anyone can write.  If you can talk, you can write.  


What is an art, I'll tell you, is having no filter.  I go straight from brain to page, I don't mince my words.  I'm not trying to be sophisticated or poetic or even eloquent or articulate.  I could be all those things if I wanted to, I guess.  But I want this instead.


I want to speak to laymen.  Who is a laymen?  What does that even mean?  


The man on the street is more like it.  I want to be able to speak to the homeless man and king, all in one sentence.  That is just my particular style.  Yours may be different, I'm sometimes envious of those who can really use words.  I mean I know a few words that are more than one syllable.  


I mean do I sound stupid?  I'm serious.  Am I a simpleton?  


I wonder when my some of my writing colleagues are so fancy.  I could write you a scholarly essay, I clean up real nice.  But I don't know, I like to write super casual better.  


My fiction is a little more sophisticated.  


Just to clear things up for the masses who ask me about why my book is not published yet. Let me explain something.  I made a couple mistakes while trying to market it.  I wrote my first chapter last and it sucked and I didn't know it.  Agents only read like the first few pages of your work before they decide to ask for your manuscript or not.  Then I didn't go for small publishers, I only went for the big time agents of my favorite authors.  But those agents have already made it and don't want a first time author like myself.  

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