Nothing

A few cans of Ginger ale litter my desk. A plate with last night's burrito remains accompanies them. In front of my mini keyboard sits The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr and E.B. White. As I don’t have a degree in English and at most, at best, I can only rely on the lifelong misunderstanding of my native language, I need to start somewhere regarding education. My grammar sucks. Spelling is horrid. Thank you little red lines. 

I could use another can of ginger ale—Canada Dry, to be exact, ginger ale with fruit splash. To be precise: Zero Sugar. Burp.

What are the happenings of the world today? Let me see…Eesh. You don’t want to know. 

I uploaded a still of my film King Eddie to Instagram some weeks ago. The caption, to summarize, said: this will not be my last film and I have more to say. But I sit here, in front of my ginger ale-littered desk, hovering over the mini stunted keyboard with absolutely nothing to say.