No snow on the ground. I was ready to wear my purple rainboots until summer came! I barely made it on the subway, and we all know what happens when the doors close on you and squish you like a grilled cheese sandwich. Not the best feeling ever. The ride was smooth though. I’m almost at the end of Death by Chocolate, Vol. 2, which will be re-titled “The Truth Within” as both parts, 1 and 2, will become one.
The newborn should see the light of day fairly soon. I’m staying optimistic as to deadlines. It has been quiet the past few days, but I didn’t stop running. The Mexican dinner yesterday was absolutely delicious, probably because the company was excellent too.
After finishing John Die At The End, I realized stories that become popular aren’t the best pieces of literature ever written. Sad? I don’t know. People’s taste cannot be controlled. My writing probably sucks, haha. In that I’m trying too hard, or I’m being too honest, too raw, too smart, too complex, etc… The list could go on and on and on. That’s alright. “The Truth Within” will be something to keep on the shelves until next winter, and then you can recycle it. I’ll allow it. Art takes so many shapes and forms. Something completely dull might be the most genius idea of all times. The human psyche is so weird when it comes to appreciating art.
Julie Jones wanted to say hi. She’s doing great fighting the monsters of her relentless imagination. I have many hopes she’ll succeed in her journey and become a stronger woman. Who knows, she might come back in another story, and make a cameo appearance. Everything’s possible in this world.
This morning, tourists were taking pictures of billboards for a Broadway musical, and I thought, what’s so memorable about these billboards? But I’m always transported back to the first time I set foot in the Big Apple when I see people take pictures of everything and anything here. This town is truly unique, and mesmerizing. Even when it smells, and is crowded, and secluded from the rest of the universe after a big snow storm or a hurricane. New York City is my home. It inspires me every second of every day. Would I be so prolific if I lived in a little town in the middle of nowhere?
Probably. But my stories wouldn’t be as crazy. Or maybe they would be crazier. The people I encounter here make my imagination go wild though. It’s a permanent spectacle of awe and pure disgust everywhere I go. When people open up and talk about their lives, my heart always skips a beat. This town is the receptacle of all kinds, all origins, all backgrounds. When I think I’ve seen it all, I’m constantly reminded I haven’t seen anything yet.
New York. The lover I hate so much and can’t get enough of. Julie maybe lives in California, but deep down, she’s a true New Yorker too.
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