I’ve been taking my daily vitamins to help me not feel so defeated. It’s hard to say if they’re working. There are those who say The West is and always has been dead, but Manwell wants me to tour even farther out. He wants me to do a reading in the bay area with Mandy.

I’ve got a friend there, he says. We’re tangled. She’s got PTSD, so I’m not sure if it will work out, and we might have to find another venue.

He knows that I’ve got a lot going on right now, but he doesn’t know that I’ve already been told no by my wife.

Remind him how much content you produce, she says, not understanding even close to the long and short of the situation.

Plus, she says, plans change. Deal with it. I’m not here to hold your hand, but if you two are vibrating at the right frequency, you’ll find each other. There’s something to modern prayer. I never said that I was against that; and my boss says that everyone you ever meet will be somebody. Everybody is a poet, he says, so you can book a reading with that fellow from the frame shop, seeing how you love him so much. There’s no real economy in this internet age, but if you want to try and challenge yourself, I suggest you cut that hair. You are a Strudel Peter whom I believe could get away with a more tangible reward. Your anniversary is coming up. Don’t you want to be the kind of guy who makes your wife happy and proud to be with as she wakes you with a bouquet of flowers?

I don’t know… Is it the weekend again?

Not quite, sweetheart, but we are going to The Bistro today, remember?

I don’t know…


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