I didn't read it all with a sense of irony, and I didn't dismiss any of it as being the insane rantings of people I like to call "wide-eyed lobotomies." In fact, some people may not have found them to be as uplifting as I, but that is neither here nor there. Everyone has their own interpretation of things based on their own experiences and their knowledge on the magic of language.
As I write this, the peppers from last night, which were far more potent that I would have expected, are doing a number on my stomach, but I have every intention of going in because I don't like being here when my daughter is not around. Serving my time is already mentally painful. Might as well add the physical to it.
Tonight I'll be editing my interview with the director of a film I haven't seen yet. I'll try to ignore all the bullshit and get hopefully finish it. It hasn't been easy because I want it to be as important as the film is. I don't want to let myself or the director down. He's on a good path, and important path, and I don't want to be a stumbling block.
My coffee, I have decided, is not helping my stomach. My addiction to caffeine, however, means I have to accept that or suffer a headache and stomach ache. My stomach has survived worse than hot peppers. Far worse.
I have restarted the manuscript, and I'm thinking, just based upon what I've written so far, that this will be self-published. I hate to do that, but I'm thinking it may be my only alternative. Publishers are cowardly.
There was more I was going to write. I actually deleted most of it. I realized it would be taken the wrong way by some and the right way by others. Some things, it seems, must be kept private.
Others -- they are out there for the world to destroy as it sees fit. Happy Monday, Acid Eaters. Let this one count for nothing.