I can write with a bit of humour, which is a massive improvement.  I dance on the cusp of despair, with the brink of tears in my throat welling.  Avoiding what I can, I remain on the fulcrum.  I could tilt any way.

So here I am in the real world.  This is from a photo shoot that took place for the show that I'm in.  We used my fantabulous Nikon to take pictures of the people we would be portraying.  Noreen took this of me, wearing a Hill Tribe hat.

Cricket likes the "saintly" uplifted eyes.  I think I was looking up to stretch my chins out!

This is my new photo, as I just started the Animal Behavior College.  I started a blog, to record my experience.  Don't go there yet.  It is just a wisp of an idea.  I may just write it all here, because I'm layzee!

EDIT:  Well, I changed my avatar yet again, to a sketch that I did.

Back in February of 2006, I had a little accident.  Recently released from a psych ward, I shouldn't have been driving.  (Cricket and I now have a policy in effect).  That said, I recall that day with a clarity that some ascribe to 9/11.

I was driving my Explorer.  The brake pedal had no rubber pad on it.  I was wearing Red Wing boots.  Stopped behind a beater car at a red light, on a slight slope, my foot slipped off the pedal and I rolled into the back of the car in front.

Of course I got out to check that everyone was okay.  The driver and passenger freaked out.  They went on about how much money they'd sunk into the car.  Clearly they'd failed to take care of their sagging interior roof material and the yellow primer used on cars of a certain era that flashed.

The police came and my truck was towed:  My license had expired the month before, on my birthday.  A year later, a handsome man was on my stoop as I walked home.  He served me the papers, which claimed that I'd ignored weather conditions (cold and clear), drove recklessly (y'know, at a stop light), that I ruined his health, back, neck and another page of charges.

We were supposed to go to arbitration last year, but the "victim" had to go into rehab.  For his Heroin addiction.  In fact, he was driving with his friend to the Methadone clinic when I tapped him.  He will likely win some money from this suit.  Arbitration is a process where lawyers in the biz of suits weigh the case.

I don't think that I should express my true feelings about this situation.  That would be indulgent.

We can make the Web our safety net.

Talking with Cricket, we faced my future.  I have been walking her dog Griffin, as she's on a movie right now.  In the dog park, I talked with a man who knows about service dogs for the blind.  Apparently, they are short of people to foster them before they go into training.  Another Bush deal.

He told me that one fosters the beastie for eighteen months and if the dog fails out, you can keep him.   I was catching Cricket up with the dog park/Griffin news when I told her what Jack said.  Cricket came right out and said I'd be doing that within the year!  Hot poop on a Pringle!  That my life would be about animals, not house-painting.  That is so beyond my scope of joy right now.  It seems like that would be Nirvana.

Okay, Nirvana with dog owners, abandonment, cruelty and shelters.  But, Hell, Bells 'n' Smells, I am on the receiving end of an amazing gift.  My best friend Cricket.  She has been there for me when my family was not.  She has supported me in every way:  Emotionally, physically and financially.

My goal right now is to keep my brains together.  In the long term?  I'll be dancing with wolves.

Okay, this may sound strange, but bear with me.  You should keep a can of Sardines in your car/messenger bag/Gucci hand-bag.  First, they are very good for you, with lots of stuff that people who care about food are saying is just plain good for you.  Also, this is a good fish to buy, as it is small and breeds a lot.  This seems to be important.

The best thing about a can of Sardines, is how you can apply it.

A)  Great for attracting stray or roaming animals.

B)  Great for a Power Snack.

C)  Great for slicing into bits, to place behind the hub-caps of the bastard in your life.

D)  Great bastard repellent.  Eat one fish and that SOB will back off like you are on fire.

The main problem with Sardines, is we have yet to figure out how to send them over the phone-lines to telemarketers.  Ideas, anyone?

Today I went back to Miss Carol's house.  I'm painting it for a nominal fee.  She is African-American with, she told me, Native American and White blood.  She was upstairs watching the programme, as I listened to NPR.  When I heard that the ceremony was running past time, but that Bush was no longer President, I cheered.

Miss Carol came flying down the stairs, all sixty-seven years of her, when Obama was sworn in.  She was giggling, laughing, fighting tears and so overwhelmed.  I was so happy, I grabbed her and hugged her.  We were both aware of this incredible moment, both proud, amazed, nervous and so very hopeful.

Miss Carol couldn't shut up.  She stayed with me as I sweated and rolled out her walls.  She talked so much, we missed the speeches.  She wore me down, to be honest.  I'm having a bit of a tough time.  But you know what?  I wouldn't trade it.  Seeing that lady turn into a young girl full of hope was the greatest gift.

I know, I've been a bit behind in my new series of helpful hints and solutions.  So I just wanted to give you a lovely idea that helped me handle those pesky telemarketers.  I don't have any trouble with them, as I have no "real life".  However, my best friend Cricket is inundated with 'em.

Now, I know that there are "Do not call" numbers that you can ring to fight these tedious folk, but that is not so much fun.  For example, I picked up Cricket's phone at the shore, to the lovely call from a stranger wanting to sell.  Now, I hate to leave a good opportunity to lie.  So I did.

I explained that I wasn't the home owner, didn't know them and in fact, I'd just broken in to this empty house.  I waited, but none of the local police force came.  Shame.  I love a man in a uniform.

Next unsolicited call you get, look at it as a chance to let your imagination free.  These people need to know that their calls are valued, for the great improv ground that they supply.  Let me know how it goes.

I just got done holding a 12-Step meeting in prison.   Thank you all so much for your kind support, compassion and understanding.  (D.M., you have my special gratitude).  Cricket has been incredible, as well as Lori from Oasis.  No, silly, not the "Gentleman's Club" Oasis!  The Oasis Arts Center that put together the portrait project.

Stepping back from the abyss, I tread softly.  I don't want the edge to crumble beneath me.

Everything I touch is poisoned.  I am a walking trauma.  I fail at every turn.  I hurt more than I help.  I fail others as I am failing.  My world is a black hole that I want you to avoid.  Save yourself:  Cut me loose.