DIARYdi•a•ry ˈdaɪəri

Spelled[dahy-uh-ree] l1. a daily record, usually private, especially of the writer’s own experiences, observations, feelings, attitudes, etc.

It’s taken me nearly two and one-half years to write “Been There, Done That.” My Diary consists of almost-daily and equal parts painfully searing / rise-from-the-ashes entries, of the penultimate extreme of physically occurrences and emotional ruminations –written in “real time”—from this 2+ year period. It’s ugly, it’s real and it may likely cost me some professional opportunities, but… what the hell.

A Day in the Life. A Life in a Day.

Tonight, I’m feeling reckless. Dangerous. And that’s, generally speaking, NOT GOOD. For me. And many times, for those whose paths I cross.

It’s 10:12 pm on a Tuesday. Late for me, as of late. But tonite, it feels unGODly early. I’ve lived a lot of life today, for one day. After 6 hours of dead-to-the-world deep sleep –but permeated by some of the most visceral, and raunchiest– REAL-like dreams ever- I jump out of bed at 8am. Early for me these days. I thrust my arms in the air, and force a smile upon my lips. I’ve planned to do A LOT today. And damned if I won’t. Yet, my heart beats hard, fast, and the anxiety is palpable. Ramome rolls to his back, head in my lap. He knows our morning routine. I hold him, stroke his belly. Kiss him. Tell him what a good, great boy he is, and a good, great friend. He smiles, smiles, smiles. And I do too.