The Silent Series (Part 3)

The Silent Series (Part 2)

Scenes of Silence

Soldiering On

"Keep me safe, LORD, from the hands of the wicked; protect me from the violent, who devise ways to trip my feet." Psalm 140:4

My baby brother leaves tomorrow morning for a year term in Afghanistan.

He will celebrate 20 years old at weeks end.

Not fashion, food critics, or the city's fanfare matter one bit.

Oh God on High, bring him home.

And Heaven, help my heart.

Meaningless?

"This is what I have observed to be good: that it is appropriate for a person to eat, to drink and to find satisfaction in their toilsome labor under the sun during the few days of life God has given them—for this is their lot. Moreover, when God gives someone wealth and possessions, and the ability to enjoy them, to accept their lot and be happy in their toil—this is a gift of God." Ecclesiastes 5:18-20

Hoping this makes every one's Monday a little more palatable.

Is your work honoring your deepest desires?

Love, Lost, and What I Wore

Highly entertaining and at times so relatable, it had every woman in the audience crossing her legs to stop the urination flow.

If it wasn't for the chemical cleaners in the theater seats giving me the itching notion that I was one of the first victims of this seasons Bed Bug epidemic, I would have stayed to shake the actresses hands.

Most notable quip:

According to Nora Ephron, once a woman of a certain age starts wearing Eileen Fisher, it's all over.

Do you think these woman have accepted that destiny?

*Caught Saturday Morning outside East Village store for the SUMMER SAMPLE SALE.

Distractions

No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. 1 Corinthians 10:13

The conscious choice to steer clear of my passionate involvement in politics has only made room for more frustrations and I can only look at Trump and Palin's power play dinner over slices of NYC pizza as amusing and the first move in a long, drawn out chess game.

New York hasn't changed.

I have. And it's all I can say.

I stare at this blank screen and blinking cursor with a mind that hasn't lived in the present but ten paces ahead of it's crowded self.

I think of readers.

But mostly I think of how life is rapidly passing me by and I'm caught in a fruitless jet stream of an actor's life for me, leading me further away from home base and my purpose.

From dodging the angry flexing of the skin head screaming and spitting on the corner that I'm trying to cross to dropping off my pleading letter and fading head shot to the casting agent who won't return my call; All before I drop $900 down to the Screen Actor's Guild representative as he shakes my hand and welcomes me into the land of opportunity and option to the Devil's Playground of fame (Hooray for me, this is actually a huge feat) Doing this in route to another rejection, ( I mean audition, Freudian slip) I stun the local shaman with scripture as tries to beckon me to join in his breath and experience the calm in a city of 8 million in 90 degree heat.

I find it near impossible at the end of the day to summon the happy and spread the sunshine of contemplation and consideration of life, liberty, and the luck of the hand we draw as we chase the horizon and the dreams that dance at the edge of our reach.

So instead of writing, I meet with a psychotherapist at an institute known for crazy but mostly their sliding scale and vomit out my formative years and give him fodder for a best selling novel which people will read and thank whomever they believe for the life they were given, instead of mine.

Now tell me, what's wrong with this picture?