I think you have to write when you're sick, otherwise you just think about how miserable your body feels, subsequently telling your brain to find something deeper to be sad about. But your body is just having a silly moment, reminding you to be grateful when you are healthy and even happy you're not much more sick than you are. I wish I could go outside and peak at the moon, a good friend of mine. I'll add a picture tomorrow when a bunch of cool photographers have posted them.
"Oh moon, whose nook and cranny doth shine so bright."
I have no idea what that's from. Or if it's really from something. My daddy always says it, and I love him. I kind of always thought it was in A Midsummer Night's Dream, but I don't think so. Maybe. I
I love art, I love show people, I love you, definitely. I'm going to do it, I'm going to find a way to perform for the rest of my life. After a whole three days of trying to convince myself that it's just a hobby, kissing it goodbye just won't do. There's a passion there with a heart of its own. But I think it's mine. So I'll be dancing, smiling. For whatever audience needs me.
Or will have enough patience to take me.