Puppetry

A Mild Monday With Emotion/Dude, Where's My Respect?

You know? I went into this knowing it would never be as good as the last book I wrote. Hell, the description for it reeks of the amount of tired effort I put into the work--and yet, my emotion still overrides the work; and there are worse things I could be writing. Lots of worse things. Writing is an art, and one has to suffer for it, or else it isn't exactly "art", is it? It's just randomized typing of an angry madwoman who pretends to have a rapport with God, like a musical composer pounding his piano keys, reaching toward the sky for a piece of that Broadway pie. 

And in a world where there's a one-in-a-million chance where Dot Seurat gets her fame unless she knows people or is mega-talented, I have every right to be bitter and mad at the world. 

But, I'm not openly angry. In fact, I'm happy where I am now. It's just, another emotional Monday in the house with...with...the voice of...God and the musicals in my playlist.