I had a weird dream last night. Very lucid and funky, which only means that my guilt got the best of me this morning. Whenever I go to bed late and wake up late I feel bad.
I started this series for several selfish reasons, one of which was to have something concrete to write about for the month of February. Some time back I micro-managed my madness by planting a seed in my head that I need to do method writing, which I would consider to be the literary version of method acting.
February 2, the day we rely on a bitter mammal to forecast how much longer we’ll have to endure mother nature’s latest scheduled seasons. It’s winter and part of winter in the Northeast involves snow and ice.