Tonight is what a friend of mine would call a 'trimma tree night.' This is in reference to when Holden Caufield got hammered and called old Sally and offered to trim her tree because he was so fucking lonely. Thankfully no calls have been made, no Facebook messages have been sent, and it shall stay that way since the only lady in my life is my script.
I'm nearly done. It will be done before the sun comes up. Wine and the soundtrack albums to Midnight Cowboy and The Harder They Come have been helping. I don't know. I am lonely, granted. Lonely people gravitate towards the internet. Most likely, the only reason you are reading this is because you are lonely and stumbled upon this. I'd like to think that. In that way, we've made a bizarre and intangible connection through this horrible blog post.
Can you tell I'm writing a movie about cults?
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