Been fidgeting with many things, lately. Stories, ideas, more ideas to make more stories, and it all ends up being nothing. Great, professoinal, secured potential nothing.
But things have slowed down for me, things on the brink of extreme disruption, delay..delay? No. There is no stopping now, forward or nowhere, all or nothing, and I can't walk, my back is near shot, and I'm not taking any time off soon, and I torture myself into being that way, and I love it, and now is the time it will all hit the fan and stop, or lose the ground beneath, slip into space, allowintg the momentum to carry us on from then until the end, and the end is when we decide. It is always when we decide.
But I really don't feel like cooking for Thanksgiving.
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