The old me’s Dead and Gone.
A few nights ago I put on my best actor face to appear in a short film directed by a friend—an emerging talent by the name of Mr. Wolcott. My part was small yet significant nonetheless. I was the dead guy, dragged on the floor after being bludgeoned with a rolling pin by his impatient roommate.
I see it as metaphor for life really—feeling dead and being dragged by life. It’s a funny thing to say that a place is exhausting. The draining sensation can’t really be explained and people don’t understand. But that’s how it feels to live in LA: Always Wanting, Trying, Dying.
Lately, I’ve been so critical of myself. And it’s killing me.
… But I want to say, that’s the old me. Expect a lot of changes here real soon. A site revamp, a me revamp. Rihanna became the Good Girl Gone Bad, Sasha out-fierced Beyonce and a once-innocent Britney declared, “I’m not a little girl anymore.”
So, the old me’s Dead and Gone.
Forever yours, Chris
