There use to be a rhyme and rhythm...

It's 5:26am and I am still having problems sleeping. I haven't even started working yet, and already every morning I wake up at about this time. Usually around 3:36am. What the fuck. Hope no kids find this site. Or maybe I do. Maybe they will find it and learn what not to be. I mean, this is like the fifth, sixth, tenth, twentieth night in a row that I have waken up stressing at odd hours of the night.

And it is always odd, never even.
Ok, maybe 4:30 once.

Either way, one little thing that a friend said yesterday to me and I am loosing my mind. I am supposed to start this job next week, and he says to me, "Well, I guess that the art has finally lost."

I guess I don't have to worry about anyone reading this either, because I don't even pay attention to my own blog.

It's like a child that you raise to the age of five and then abandon.

Holy shit. That was me. I was that five year old kid. My father raised me until I was five and then he abandoned me. Why?

Maybe the answer to that I will never know.

Not that I have to worry again, because noone is reading this blog. And if they are, then they are sicker then me, and that makes me scared.

Self diagnosis is never a good idea kid. I should make an other podcast. Oh well. Play the saxophone? I guess I am not really sure what I am supposed to be doing anymore.

Where is my Hero?

Hello Everyone!

Who is reading this! Please god, let some strange fait bring a hero my way.

I need help. A brother. Someone to help me put up a show this Sunday in the west village.

I need 4 15 minute shows, or some assembly of shows that equals 60 minutes.

The whole process will be SNL style. All the material will be looked over on Tuesday, actors picked on Wednesday and start rehearsing, show on Sunday. Sound like fun? Sound intense? Well, if you know me you know that I am intense.

Give me a jingle if you are interested.

B The Money Machine