I'm having a hard time finding actors.
I tried to explain this problem to Jason and he said, "You're having a hard time finding actors? In New York? Go out in the street and throw a stick."
I've emailed about 30 people, 10 of which I went to college with, and only 2 have had the decency to respond and say, "Sorry I can't." Maybe my expectations are too high. Maybe I'm spoiled by poets who, when I say, Do you want to read, they reply within .226 seconds to say, Sure!
I have "Brandy Alexander" stuck in my head.
Whenever I listen to the Feist CD I think of Albuquerque, before I knew how to drive a stickshift, when I had to walk down Steven Moody Street past the park where the kite-flyers went, to take the Juan Tabo bus to the doctor's office, to get Zoloft.
Tonight I said, Hattie I have to get off the phone now and work on my novel.
She said, You're always cutting me off, aren't you.
Then I said something I don't remember.
And then she said, I'm like you're guilty vice. Is that what it's called?
Like Sex and the City, she said.