From What's Left of the Hip

I'm quite sure now that I reported a similar dog attack in my previous blogger account, complete with photos. It's too bad that it didn't stay online to remind me of the danger. It happened in the same location, the perfect killing ground: fenced in by trees on one side and buildings on the other. And last year, I had a close call with the same dog in the same spot, on my way to my old rehearsal space to record a video. That white spot might be on his throat, by the way. Anyway, I'm still in one piece. I keep hearing about who wrote whose laughs while I've been composing a new song to follow my last one, Denial, or as Garageband calls it, My Song 207. My Song 208 is going to be a little heavier but in the same vein. I don't call my scripts laughs. I often think of them more as illustrations of my thoughts and feelings. It's people in the comedy business who would refer to them first as laughs. So I'm still repeating old interactions, like that pitbull attack, from a forgotten year in my past. I hope I didn't get hit by any vehicles and forget about it. People have all along repeated the same reactions to me as when they first found me on the web. I recall how I tried to remind one of my Toronto friends in 2010 of something he had done in 2007 and forgotten about and he didn't believe me. But he might remember it now. I'm not the only one who suffers from this amnesia. The last couple of weeks have been rough, but that's what it takes to save money on a fixed income. And if I shared all this online before, it means that those spoiled, pampered stars knew all about my hardships and still went ahead and partied with my music and scripts, on top of using their popularity to make me unpopular. That's why I think I'm entitled to sharply criticize them.
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