Where I got the title for my chapbook PAIN GRIN. The theme from M*A*S*H by Johnny Mandel, mind you all the words are hard-hitting. The sword of time will pierce our skin/it doesn't hurt when it begins/but as it works its way on in/the pain grows stronger, watch it grin..." Sid is about the only one who knows about this new writing gig I fell into--with his help--that is making me type well past the point of sanity. The best I can do is give up on the toothpick, my zen-like object where I'd project the hurt. Tonight, as I read pages on neurological diseases and foreign baby names, making sense of what birth defects are common to a certain nation, such as Sanxthi in China, the best I can do is chew on the collar of my shirt. I chew until my teeth bite through, then I know I'm at the point of no return. I either keep going or go make that noose in the garage. Soon enough I can say what this long term high paying writing job is and at least if that noose is sturdy I now have an agent (who looks like Clark Kent) who can then figure out what to do with all the crap I have and make me an omnibus like what was done with Karl Edward Wagner, rest his soul. I need to stop indulging myself here and get back to work....Carnival of Wayne
