The other day I saw members of the Liberian rebel army- very young rebels, maybe 16 years- dragging a body down the street and hooting and hollering about eating the heart. Then they did just that. Cut open the man's chest, tore his heart out, and ate it in the street.

Thank you Discovery Times channel.

Sometimes I really believe I'll always be the writer who never finished anything. And the actor who never started. I've got so many scripts and stories, and letters and posts to this thing started and stopped I should open a Beginning Store. Sell people opening lines like, Robin's son Crusoe never forgave his mother for letting him drown in the backyard swimming pool when he was nine...

In the same vein I'm the kind of actor who always believes his big break is right around the corner; and though I'm not nearly dense enough to believe that the more tables I bus, the faster I'll get around that corner, I still act that way. I still work and work and work, with no clear change in sight.

I never thought ending could be so hard. Never thought starting could be so scary.

Shot in the Head

Yesterday I saw this Ethiopian vulture pick clean a carcass, and then fly its bones up into the sky and let them drop onto the rocks below. It was cracking them open to get to the tasty marrow inside.

Not only do they learn this shit, they pass it on to their vulture-bird children.

Monday I went to Six Flags New England. My first Six Flags, it was the Brewhouse's annual employee appreciation day. Bob and Lou paid for all the tickets, thirty-some, and chartered a bus and made sandwiches. The girls put together this cooler full of rum & ice & fruit & for five bucks you could fill your red solo over and over on the two hour drive. And that's what I did. And boy was I ripped. I went on two roller coasters I hardly remember, and then I wandered the wave pool for the rest of the day in just a pair of soaked boxer briefs. I had never been in public with so little clothing on. I had a great time, the day seemed over before it began; and then I passed out on the bus trip back, while The Wedding Singer played on VHS.

Then on my two days off I hung out with Tweetum and a bunch of her friends and had a fabulous.fucking.time.