Essay While My Hair Dries
Once more, I’m starting over with a clean slate. The heat wave continues and the Mississippi River is down to 9 feet deep and barges are grounding. Racism is rampant in the United States and if you just can’t get why that’s wrong on your own, I probably can’t teach you. I wish men could understand that there is nothing better and more empowering than losing your sex drive. The only problem is that I still have a Love drive and I can’t get that from a man without sex. It’s so wonderful facing my retirement knowing that the entire Republican Party doesn’t think I deserve the Social Security and Medicare I paid for and want to take it away. Eight hundred and fifty people on Facebook can tell me I’m wonderful, but if one person says I LIKE too much, I’m shattered. I know I have written many truly great plays, but they will never be produced or printed because every theater is buried under scripts and use any reason to toss submissions into the trash. It’s the old merry-go-round…can’t get a production without an agent and can’t get an agent without a production. I have never, in one moment of a relationship, been looking at the man I was with. I always was daydreaming of someone better but instead of looking for for the right man, stayed until I was forced to leave. 63 years old with MS. Game over. Hair is almost dry and I must think about going to the gym. Think about it. The next step is getting my fat ass in there. Later, with more amusement.