You can all rest easy. My baggage was delivered two days ago, safe and sound. I can't tell you what a comfort it was to receive all the useless bullshit I've accumulated over the years. Even better was that it freed me from my Bronx exile. As soon as I scrubbed my pits with some Radox body wash, I jumped on the 1 train and headed into Manhattan - the borough where most of the movie Big was shot.
I met with my people. Not "people" in the folksy, traditional sense of nation or race, but "people" as in "individuals who want to take 10% of my income." I've got two groups of agents: one who submits me for videotaped grinning exercises and another who scours for productions that call for a very pissed-off, ethnic-tinged white guy. How do I resolve this existential dichotomy, you ask? Hmmm, never thought about too much, but I suppose my Daily Defamations help. That's when I stare into my bathroom mirror and repeat things like, "You're a vessel for writers" and "Think of a happy place, and imagine it shrouded in pain. That's you!"
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