cinema_babe | Can't Sleep, The Muses Will Eat Me.

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!

I never knew it was possible to be impatient and have cold feet at the same time. What the hell have I committed myself to? Why am I doing this? (She whines with a squeak)

Why indeed.

Because there is a man who lives in a beautiful Craftsman style house who is in love with his wife but has never felt loved and is impatient to feel it. Because his wife is waiting to be imperfect and his neighbor to sin.

Because once upon a time I looked at the windows of a house a block away and saw a line of electric candles perfectly centered in *every* window and I used to imagine what kind of person was so precise; I imagined them using a ruler to center each candle. Because there is a lovely Craftsman style house on Rt 27 in Metuchen, NJ and I used to drive past and imagine what it would be like to own it and raise children in it and put the little marks on the walls and floors and doors that say, "this is my *home*"

Why?

Because my earliest memories are of "Once upon a time..." and when I was skilled enough to read from the books my mother read to me, it seemed as if some of the magic had disappeared! The red hen was a little less vibrant; the princesses a bit more plain and the knights not quite as grand. My mother would gild the stories she told me with shiny embellishments hot from the oven of her imagination.

Why?
Because if I don't write I will die. Because the spores of every book I read are blooming inside of me; because there are demons and rainbows fighting to get out and breathe the light.

Because I have to and I want to and I must.