I am going to write for 12 minutes no matter what comes out of my head. No editing allowed. I want to be a writer and I don’t have the “or else” about the subject. I can’t really type, I am a bit too scatter-brained, and I have realized that I am not a leader, but a follower. So, here goes with the diatribe. If I really matter to people then my life has meaning, or not. I should be the only voice I need to hear in my head, but I hear nothing but noise. Being depressed is no way to go through life. Did I make a mistake retiring? Did I make a mistake caring one iota what people thought about me? Do I need to take another drink, second one in my life? Only time will tell, with a little effort that is. This format is fun but unnerving cuz ya don’t whose gonna read it. I need to keep writing, no matter what comes out so here goes. I am proud of my royal heritage, southern heritage, Patriot heritage, and the fact that I am not like either of my parents. The book I write will be something like Angela’s Ashes, but my own upbringing instead. I just finished reading Writing Down the Bones b Natalie Goldberg and now I’m reading Spooky Art by Norman Mailer. I was could have been killed by John Wayne Gacey when I was about 13. We got within 10 feet of each other and I ran out of the store just because of the way the evil bastard looked through me. 5 years later he was on TV after getting arrested. I still have not had the nerve to read a book about him. My mother was a violent, alcoholic, career-teacher, single parent. She was mean as a snake and died from Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. I may outlive her!
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