You're wrong, you're all wrong.

I have been very tempted to make this blog a political jumping point as I'm accepting that for a while I won't be dreaming of one-off roles and comedy writing.
And that's okay. I still want to do that, but I want to be smart, and the only way to be smart is to have a degree that says so.

So I get my degree.
But I love writing, so I'll write about other things. I'll Muse. I'll throw copper in a fountain and hope someone retrieves it, makes something cool out of it. Pennies aren't worth anything.

Insults are odd. They depend so much upon the person. For instance, jokes about mothers are cruel to orphans. Jokes about Blondes offend the Polish, and vice versa.
One of my roommates I make fun of in my head.
(I know I shouldn't, but I'm documenting truth here; roll with it)

I call him a big, smelly oaf.
That's not particularly insulting. That's childish. I've insulted him calling him a child, too. That's not so bad, unless you're acting like a child, unless regularly you throw temper tantrums and don't clean up after your feasts, you oaf.
See? That's not right. I shouldn't do that.

And Smelly? That's hardly insulting
...
Unless you smell.
Unless partners will not make you their husband because of your POWERFUL scent.
I have another roommate (I have a lot of roommates. I'm not making this up.)
The other smells like a hockey match.

I don't even know how you do that.


I started my book, too. I'm writing a book. I plan to write a bunch of books, but so far, I have only started writing one. It's okay. I've written about a page.
It's about sanity and homelessness.
Not like I know anything about homelessness. Not like I care.
It's not like I'm going to research this.
It's only characters. Lifeless characters.

In truth, it'll be some sort of parable, some launching pad for humanization.
I won't say too much.
(There'll be a surprise twist!)
There probably won't.

After an Easter egg hunt on Sunday, I shopped with my coworker Matt for his wife. Not for his wife. Gifts for his wife. He's an Australian actor and [not because of that] I have wanted to hang out with him. He's sort of what I aspire to be. He has a blog. He's real.

We talked tax codjavascript:void(0)e wandering through Times Square and I'm sure now the country/continent of Australia is a better version of America.
If it was a LITTLE greener, I'd move there right now.
Then it would be San Francisco. 100%.

I recommend hanging out with Australians. And actors.
It's just fun not knowing if they're lying or not.
They can be in character in any moment.