Hungry? 

Me too.

I live in the suburbs, I have not replaced my beloved leather motorcycle jacket and that thought bothers me as it pops into my head  at least once a week, my hair started to turn gray about four years ago and last night I did the math and figured out that the actor who took over the role of The Doctor from David Tennant is old enough to  be my son.

 

I have this picture of my life in my head- my life is sitting on a park bench and its shoe laces are not tied.

No I don’t know what that means.

I’ve gone back to writing, what I do here is a warm up- I actually write short stories and I’m working on my book. When I’m writing I’m actually a more patient and dare I say it- I’m actually kinder to myself and the people around me.

You’d think the people in my life would have noticed that  by now.

Maybe they have.

Maybe they LIKE having one of Clive  Barker’s Cenobites in their lives, because when I’m not writing that’s what I turn into.

I know that the fact is lost on most horror fans, but the cenobites are bad guys with no sense of humor.

So my point is, let’s keep Anita writing because when she isn’t writing?