I made fried chicken for dinner.
I ate too much.
I can't stand to look at my play any longer. I'm sick of thinking about it. I don't want to rewrite it. I don't care if it sucks. I don't care if it doesn't have an ending. It isn't meant to end. It's artsy. It's a sketch now. Not a play. Sketches don't have to end properly. At least that's what SNL has taught me. So there, stupid conscience. You're free. You should take up a proper hobby anyway. Like glass blowing. Or gum chewing. Or boudoir photography.
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