Letters to Holly

Tuesday, January 8

Let's Hear It For Drugs

I applied the synthetic tears (milked from the ducts of android children forced to watch Iron Giant for hours on end) throughout the day, and, while the eye felt better, the real test was how my eye would behave overnight. I have no idea about this because I popped OxyCotin before going to bed and slept like a mummy/log/driveway. I only use the stash if I have some torturous sleep deprivation, but I can certainly see the appeal of continued use. I feel fantastic. But I did dream about going deaf, like Limbaugh actually did during his Oxy days.

I decided not to audition for the Schoolhouse Rock musical after reading the audition requirements and realizing I didn't know what the musical terms meant. My pie-in-the-sky notion of waltzing in for my first musical and winning a singing role can't stand firm against my sheer ignorance of the lingo. The weekday matinees might not have gone over well with work either. Still, yeah, I would like to have tried it. There is the Mayberry theatre offer still standing, but I'd like to read the script and see the performance space before signing on to that show. I'm also making real progress on my comic script.

Your Parents' house is also still standing. The larger cat devoured the food before the other one could emerge from the shadows. The bathroom sink pipes have lit light bulbs over them to keep them from freezing. While I was given no note about them, I'm tempted to turn them off during this freakish warm spell.

Picture of the Day
Fire up the grannies.

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