I recently watched Tick, Tick… Boom! the Netflix movie about the life of Jonathan Larson, the writer of Rent. It moved me to tears.
Twenty years ago, I strolled into your life. You didn’t see me coming. I was just this young, white guy with enough charm to get you to trust me. And you did. So I placed a matchbook in the corner and waited for the right moment to strike. The right moment for me was always when I had you exactly where I wanted you based on my own needs, appetites and grand life schemes. Sometimes it was shortly after meeting…
I need a mentor. I need to find someone who believes in my talent as a writer to help me get over the hump.
Successful bloggers tell you that the more you write, the better chance you have of making a living doing it. That’s akin to stating that the more lottery tickets you buy, the closer you are to becoming a millionaire.
I realize that every breath I take is death to another memory. I just wish I could manage them a little better.
September creeps in on the heels of August’s humidity cloaked as a relief worker. But it’s a lie.
