Things are not always what they appear.

Elections, oppression, faith, crime riddled city streets. Me.

I’m exhausted. It cuts my vocabulary by 40% and slows my brain-to-lips travel time by about the same. What comes out is the verbal equivilent of watery oatmeal.

The wonder of words and their embarrassment. I’ve never spoken well and I’d just as soon write my thoughts down…better that than betray them by staggering around them and two stepping on them.

Bah, who cares.

Leah called last night from outside the Beacon Theatre (in NYC) where she could hear Michael McDonald performing from the spot where she stood on the sidewalk. She blessed my voicemail with a hysterical impersonation of him “hearing it through the grapevine” and as always, her wish that I was there. Me too.

To replenish my soul and clear my mind this weekend, I’ll drive out to Tybee. I’ll put my toes in the ocean, take a few deep breaths, maybe work on the script a little in a random little coffee house in Savannah, and come back “home”.

Oh, one last thing: who are you and what exactly do you want from me?