I found a notebook in a drawer today that's about 18 months old. In the notebook was a screenplay Jo and I started writing about a psycho who was going to kill me and carve "never again" into my chest and fill the wounds with glitter.It was loosely based on reality -- I had somehow managed to consume a nearly 40-year-old woman who thought that I was stealing her "boyfriend." This total whack job even went so far as to create fake MySpace pages to communicate with him, thinking I'd somehow be too stupid to catch on. She bitched about me to him relentlessly about how I was "picking on her."
This probably wouldn't have been as much fun if he just would have told the truth about her from the beginning rather than "oh, she's a psycho stalker. You should ignore her or she could hurt you or me or both of us." (Hey ... HIS words. NOT mine.)
... right. Truth? No? Half-truth? No? OK.
Fortunately, I'm so far removed from that world even the memories are spotty.
However, for the afternoon entertainment that notebook brought, this post is dedicated to the glitter graphic, Jo in Miami, "Crazy" by Pasty Cline, Jesus and our hope that one day, even I will be in the Writers Guild of America so I can be on strike.
