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It's been brought to my attention that my guestbook signings and the like have been more frequent (and worthwhile) than my diary updates.

I guess I could treat this more like a diary - since it is - and post about my everyday experiences and that occasional amusing occurrence. But I feel sure that if I did, I'd never be able to silence the voices in my head that would keep chanting "WHO CARES??"!

I think of this more as a creative outlet. And that's the problem. I don't have any control over my own creativity. Sometimes just the right turn of a phrase comes, but it seems to come from some source outside of myself. And then feeling inclined to share (exhibit) my profundities (!) here on these pages has it's own ebb and flow over which, again, I have little control. In my case, it's like a bodily function. It's like this: I often feel inspired (sort of like needing to take a pee) in a place or at a time when recording my more brilliant streams (sorry) of conscious thought (finding facilities) is pretty much impossible.

I win Pulitzer prizes in the tub. But by the time the bubbles have burst and I can see my toes beginning to prune down there at the other end, all the mental gems are diluted and will soon be spiraling down the drain. My memory fails me just as often as my ability to think profound or clever thoughts that I can actually record just as beautifully.

I win book awards driving my car.

And then there's just saying what it is I'm thinking....in front of people. I'm often mute because opening my mouth is the surest way to reveal the stultiloquence that is me. "It's a fact that highly intelligent people are also a bit ditsy", I say to assure those whose eyes I see glazing over just after I've said something that can only be interpreted as moronic. Of course I always somehow redeem myself. I'll say something that those within earshot will silently struggle to memorize for future reference or plagiarism.

What do they make of this? A child-like adult with savant-like episodes of brilliance if toothpicks are around? A mensa who smokes crack?

Just watched: The Gift (only after a second viewing, being that it's a Billy Bob screenplay, the film has grown on me)

Keanu Reeves (THE weakest actor in Hollywood?) as a redneck, wife-beater, bigot, asshole = good casting

Giovanni Ribisi - I want one

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