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A Snapshot of the Day I Stopped Answering Mail

A Snapshot Of The Day I Stopped Answering Mail

I think my spit broke. It’s not making the envelopes stick together the way it used to and frankly I might just be a little too well hydrated since I started ingesting all manners of modern nutrition to try to get that extra boost. Organic capsules/pressed pills/sublinguals/gel caps/pressed herbs and spinach.

These are the things I find myself in contact with. Three times a day I’m taking these bitches. I suddenly need less sleep.

Unfortunately the sleep I do need is hitting me at odd times since I started filming this indie flick. One really late wrap time and I’m fucked up for a week. 3am is nothing. You should see the laundry I do at 4am. I’m sorting whites, which means I’m wearing whites again. Something significant in that. Dig deep. I’ve been memorizing scripts, writing them, comparing them. I have something close to 30 games going on Words With Friends. I win more than I lose.

A two hour radio show today on four hours of sleep and we played a tequila shooting game the whole way through. I didn’t slur a word. I shot a video for my site at one am after I made a delivery order, and when the guy got lost bringing my food I churned out a photo set, too. Then I did dishes. Next a month’s worth of fan mail that had been piling on my desk. Perhaps I’m an asshole for taking this long.

And that’s how I know my spit broke. All of these envelopes, addressed, mostly stamped, stuffed with signed things and smiley faces and I can’t get them to close. Their contents are spilling out onto the floor. I’m needing more stamps and I’m needing tape. I’m toggling between windows posting pictures on networking sites that I haven’t even posted to my website yet because I feel like I’ve been slacking there too. I’m blogging about slacking and only really doing it because I haven’t been blogging either. I lied to someone about reading a script. I lied to someone else about reading his book. A fan mailed me printed copies of the unreturned emails he’d sent. It was a quarter inch thick.

And I can’t sleep. I’m looking back over the months and trying to carve out the fat on my schedule but I can’t find it. You try to keep up on the scripts and you try to keep up on twitter and tumblr and formspring and blogs and you show up on time and you go to the gym and sit through the beauty salons and you fly around the world and back and get some PR dates in there, some photoshoots and some auditions, you answer your email and acknowledge the people who acknowledge you and follow leads down the rabbit hole to the next opportunity and when you come back out the other side you find yourself neglecting the things you have in the pursuit of the things you don’t. And while I could maybe staple these envelopes shut, I’m suddenly more concerned with the last time I fed my fish.

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