VYCAlejandro

Three in the morning. Rachel's asleep, cat curled up around her feet. I've been up since eight AM yesterday, and I still haven't slowed down -- the jitters got me something bad. Usually, I make my own chai to calm my nerves, or some nice tea with heavy cream, cinnamon, ginger, and tons of other stuff, but I'm afraid the kettle would wake her up. I don't want to waste the cognac cigar she got me for Valentines' Day, either. Saving that for a special occaision. So I write. Nothing definite. Just write. It's hard with my fingers slipping all over the keyboard like it's a banana peel and I'm a vaudeville act, but it's what I've got. And it makes

I neglect this space too often. Janaye, I think, is the one who flipped me this thing. I didn't think much of it...just something to do to pass the time, you see. Unfortunately, (or maybe fortuitous, I don't know), I'm told I do really good work that more people should see. So when someone says "put that one up", I do it. Maybe someone will get a kick out of it, but I'm perfectly fine with looking at it on my own and thinking, "well, I coulda done better, but that looks good to me."