I use my phone for everything but calls, and when it does ring, it’s always bad news and when I have to call… well, I can’t say I’m any different, but there’s still tomorrow isn’t there but if I could call someone? Will Call You Later.
Friday, February 8, 2019
Episode 222 ~Will Call You Later~
Hey Lady Sophia,
How To Make One Million Dollars, if all of my characters chipped in a dollar; well, probably more than that, and what about my “loves” and I am a little down on myself about losing “it” again thinking of one pretty lady in particular unlike the two in my blog last night.
As always there’s someone to call for stressing me out, whether intentional like my “father” or people that don’t know they’re doing it, like the man that came out to treat for termites. It’s my neighbors that I might have to wave to, and you know that I want children “two-legged ones” someday but that doesn’t mean I have a clue how to deal with them, I almost had a heart attack as B III’s leash got stuck on his collar. As for being trapped, the day job; it’s like being in room 1408 even if you leave, you never do, seven years of my life and that’s the thing, institutionalized maybe, what are my motivations always saying, when you want to “succeed” as much as you want that next breath, well there you go.
So I keep telling my characters that I’ll call them, today, maybe tomorrow, do you ever think that they could be out there and as a writer, a god you stop talking to them and what happens next. What about the Future Wife, Dirty Diana, whatever girl I was writing poetry about at any given time, remember my LSD Tirade with the Winx Club, before they got the black one? The fantasies, wealth, women, and the world will have to wait until I get up off my behind won’t they because in reality when the phone rings I either don’t pick up, dad, or the day job, what about the dumb spammers, one more worry.
Only I don’t worry about that man in the mirror that I’ve been staring at more and more since I caught sight of my teeth, sometimes I even forget I don’t want to answer anybody but especially not him. How about Triple B, when it’s not dark outside, and he’s ready to go out, five more minutes, another hour, one more day… no siblings, no mom, only a dad who’s ears are too filled with motivations, my promises, and monsters. Too many, I can’t hear the call of the man I should be, the woman that wants me, or whatever that force is I pray to, to protect my little boy but every now and again something does get through… maybe Will Call You Later.
I Will Have No Fear