"All words will be considered her last words until they are followed by others."- D.E.

I'm trying to write a "journal" that I'd be O.K. with people reading if I dropped dead. That's what the first page of it says. Just belles-lettres; the whole lot of it, one or two liners accompanied by some butt ugly line drawings. No pages written so far, in the heat of a Thursday night, with incomprehensible swear words and curses. That's a good start. Mind you, I'm not sugar coating it. The F word is in their, oh it's in there, three times even on one quarter size page. But it's different this time; it's nicer. And I go deep too, I mean, I've already got mortality covered on the first page, and then I examine the topic again, less ironically, later on. There's a metaphor here and there, just to practice artfulness, but mostly it's all exactly what it is, artfully uncovered.

It's about 3x4 so my little words seem more substantial and my short anecdotes carry through to a second page, maybe a third. It fits in small purses and big pockets, or it can be tucked into the backside of tight high pants. It says: "I: Smile, You: Return the smile. That's all there is to it."
Then I go on.