dear somebody told me once diary,
more than a few years ago this man i met at a diner along west bound interstate 70 near salina, kansas- wrote on a piece of paper this name and address and told me i needed to send in a video tape to this dude and explain the importance of our meeting each other. i, of course, never did, but looking back- i wonder what could have happened if i would have. i still have the back of the paper place mat he wrote on- it says:
Lorne Michaels
Broadway Video
1619 Broadway
New York City 10019
i didn't know who that was back then- but i sure do now. man was i ever dumb. who knows how many gift horses i looked in the mouth and thumbed my nose at. prolly a bunch. i hate myself for not taking the time to stop and look more as i was passing life by. i was in such a hurry. such a hurry to get to where? here? oh if i could only strangle myself and go back and re-do at least part of it. let me feed the chickens again. let me gather the eggs with my aunt- i WONT be afraid. let me pick the green beans with my grandma- i WONT complain. let me smell the air in the country before, during and after a morning rain. let me go to the farmer's market and walk with grandpa and his cane. let me hear the church bells and stand outside and gather and laugh- and let me sit and hear the services on mr. peterson's lap. some of the things i would do again- just to remember them more. some of the things i would remember- before i became a whore.
more than a few years ago this man i met at a diner along west bound interstate 70 near salina, kansas- wrote on a piece of paper this name and address and told me i needed to send in a video tape to this dude and explain the importance of our meeting each other. i, of course, never did, but looking back- i wonder what could have happened if i would have. i still have the back of the paper place mat he wrote on- it says:
Lorne Michaels
Broadway Video
1619 Broadway
New York City 10019
i didn't know who that was back then- but i sure do now. man was i ever dumb. who knows how many gift horses i looked in the mouth and thumbed my nose at. prolly a bunch. i hate myself for not taking the time to stop and look more as i was passing life by. i was in such a hurry. such a hurry to get to where? here? oh if i could only strangle myself and go back and re-do at least part of it. let me feed the chickens again. let me gather the eggs with my aunt- i WONT be afraid. let me pick the green beans with my grandma- i WONT complain. let me smell the air in the country before, during and after a morning rain. let me go to the farmer's market and walk with grandpa and his cane. let me hear the church bells and stand outside and gather and laugh- and let me sit and hear the services on mr. peterson's lap. some of the things i would do again- just to remember them more. some of the things i would remember- before i became a whore.
