mother, should i build the wall?

happy fucking mother's day, fuckers.

couldn't be bothered to send my mom some piece of crap gesture through the mail, so i just gave her a call today. dutiful son that i am.

the weather's been unbearably nice this weekend. i've mixed feelings about nice weather these days. just seems inappropriate somehow. tragic lives should be framed by bitter weather.

not sure what my previous entry means. could be read as egotistical, but if an ounce of ego is the thread that's keeping me alive, perhaps it's of some worth.

because i'm reticent to talk about my own work with most people, many may think that i lack ambition or a sense of competitiveness. i don't. i may be lacking in speed and discipline, but i am fiercely competitive. it's an element of perfectionism that hinders my forward movement. i suspect that i am capable of a lot more than even i realize. if i can just realize my potential before they hammer me into my pine box.

(i really want to be cremated, but i prefer the pine box imagery.)

trying to finishing the polish on a screenplay right now. then i'd like to complete another full-length play i started writing years ago, called CHINADOLL OVERDRIVE. then, perhaps, back to another screenplay. not mentioning the phantom side-projects i'll be chipping away at.

it's fucking May 2005. i do not want to piss away another fucking year of this fucking wasted life. this is one thing i have some control over.