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B is for Valentine Pt 02

And it was cool to watch them. The Christian [Christian] girl proved that religious girls are in fact normal. Now – I grew up in church I should know this already but I tend to shudder at people whose sum total of their existence is…. Well… I’m sorry for judging.
Thing is, I know this girl. I grew up seeing her but – it never bothered me much until like maybe a year or so ago [you must understand, I live for She-Ra, Galaxy Rangers, Superman films and above all a good working pen and a clean notebook….and music!]

The other one likes Jesus Christ Superstar – The Film which I own and that was cool.
But the poet girl – I mean she was… she was like on my planet. AND THAT was good. And in some ways, restored to me the concept that, that which I was looking for was still out there. Well done you.

Poor thing. Little did she know she was starting to annoy me. I’m sorry. I am a bastard. But… you don’t enter my life like a whirlwind and then declare yourself a light breeze. It nah work. It…. It nah work.

I mean, to tell you the extent of how bad I feel – my friend and I just came up with a new character for my graphic novel piece. I am so excited I am 5. And that’s just writing. This girl was real…

And the heights part is that though I saw longevity with her, I started to feel like this was laboured. I kinda lazy. I know this. But as a writer I have scripted what my love life is to be and even if the Director decides to change a few scenes the general storyboard for the film needs to be a certain way. Random film terms.

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8. And Gordon did look upon the face of the actor, standing at his door. Wet, cold and angry. Gordon invited him in but he refused. He wagged his finger, trying to gather both thought and breath. Gordon turned away for a moment and returned with a towel and a glass. Whisky and water. Mixed. The actor took a sip and was sated some. Presently, he began to yell: “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, GORDON?! WHA… WH… WHAT YOU DO THAT FOR?!” The actor wept. Gordon, not missing a beat took his sketchbook and showed it to the actor. His wet, nubby fingers thumbed through the book growing ever more confused as he did. Gordon’s notes were likened to a physician’s and, quite possibly, only a physician could have possibly been able to decipher it. Possibly. “I don’t understand your handwriting.” “I do. I know what I’m doing.” The finality of that answer was… comforting but the actor required more. “You still have more of that whisky mix-thing?” Gordon turned from his guest, smiling to himself