My Life: A Life In Progress

There used to be a famous song - there still might be for all I know - called This Is My Life. It was allegedly sung by Shirley Bassey, which is better by far than having been sung allegedly by any of the Spice Girls. None of which has anything to do with me, except in the most stereotypical way.

What I'm trying to say is that thing I have the most trouble saying; know what I'm saying?

In the anals of history - and I do. mean. anals. - my life has gone down. Yet for all the anals I've gone down, I should have a shittier outlook. From where I am I can see the sun is shining, so I must be in the best seat in the house.

Ironically, it's in the great Oral exam of life where I'm failing. Whereas I could write an essay about the fleas on bees or Jesus' knees or any kind of Hollywood sleaze, if you see me in the street I shall beat a hasty retreat. Just don't be offended if I'm afraid of you; it only means I think you're hot.

A writer's life is a one-man show with a cast of thousands, which tends to give a brain a capacity crowd even before the audience arrives. The audience, the audience... Look away and I will long for your attention; never look directly at me, but ever-askance. I assure you, it's my most flattering angle.
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