truth is a bitch

tired. and wired. and inspired.

how's that for an unholy trinity?

been laying the groundwork for the next two shows, and pondering the possibility of doing a show built around a recording of a real life reading during National Poetry Month.

Next week's is going to be a compilation of some of my favourite works...by other authors. Get set for my favourite poems and see what influences hammered me into the curious shape I am in the literary puzzle.

Then, the next week...The first show of National Poetry Month...let's just say I have something startling for you...I'm going to distibute to a few close friends some hints...but nothing obvious.

I opened a fortune cookie yesterday...and the fortune read "You think that it is a secret, but it never has been one." What? I've been brutally honest in my failings and failures, confessing to anything and everything I can imagine. I always find it funny when someone accuses me of withholding something...why would I confess to the crap I have done and leave out the pretty stuff they want me to admit to? Sorry, troopers, aside from some small piddle that it would do harm to others to unveil, and some well buried crushes, I'm pretty much as advertised.

Hmmm...maybe "she" knows how I feel. Nah. Too Cyrano. A role I have taken on so many times I am beginning to resent the historical and fictional hero. I have found those who want me to play that role tend to fall into two categories: Those sincerely needy and those sincerely parasitic. I have a tough time telling one from the other.

Such is my life. And people wonder why I am a bit shy with women in real life? It isn't shy, it is bruised. You put up with the lies, the deceits, the manipulations, the disappointments, the slanders, the betrayals and the facades I've had to endure and not grow a little bit of a rough patch over your heart and then you can criticize me. I am certain I haven't had it the worst, but I also think that there are those who will have real reason for regret that I ever got to finish my memoir, if they outlive me.

Truth is a bitch. And I have her by the scruff.