Life is a roller coaster, and then you puke

I just signed my first book deal, for a novelization of one of my film scripts.

That blows my mind twelve ways to Friday. I came out here to write movies and I end up an author. Is that a step up, or down?

Everyone’s ecstatic, family, friends, the lot. I should be over the moon with joy.

And yet, lately I feel like I’m under a rock.

I miss my family in Texas.

I miss my friends.

Most of all, I miss my Katten.

Only now has this city begun to offer up a glimmer of anything positive. But it’s already taken so much. I hope it doesn’t cost me the most important person in my life.

Jeez, I’m bringing myself down. Better to end on a high note.

What would happen if an Amish person had Tourette’s syndrome? They wouldn’t know any good cuss words. What would they blurt out inappropriately?

Churning butter by hand: “My, what a lovely day—Betty Crocker biscuits! Black and Decker! Electricity!—we’re having.”

Riding in a horse buggy: “Hee-ya there, horse. Get a move on—Hummer! Toyota Tundra! Internal combustion! Internal combustion! Internal combustion!—Ah, behold the flowers in the field. Truly God is great… Hummer!”

Questioning their lot in life: “God, why have you afflicted me with these uncontrollable urges. Do I not follow the elders’ teachings? Do I not adhere to the one true way?—Hindus! Buddhism! Zen! Zen? Zen… Must…stop… blurting such obscenities… Pope! Pope! Popety Popety Pope!"