I owe you, my beloved readers, an apology and an amends, amend as in mending or fixing what I am sorry about. It’s ok to be wrong. To refuse to admit a mistake is like saying Jesus ✝️ is my closest peer, what with both of us being perfect. Yeah, right. Here goes.
It’s June 24, 2019 and I am sorry that I failed to keep my word. I was looking over all of my posts, passing on the ones with the most views. There had been a lot of interest in my invitation to you all, to join me remotely in my Honolulu🌺 prostitution👠 retrospective. I promised to give more of myself in 2019. I said I’d do videos, take you guys around Honolulu’s 🏪round the clock sex trade sites with my 📱phone camera. I planned one minute editorials, like Andy Rooney on “60 Minutes.”🎬
The year📅 is half over ⏳ and I have done nothing I promised. Why not? I chickened out. I worried about the condition of my skin. My skin, my nemesis for 30 years. Would my make up look clownish? Would my camera phone action come off as stupidly amateurish instead of simply genuine? Etcetera, ad nauseum. I feared mockery. Fear, my lifelong companion. Ridiculous bc I’m afraid of the non existent, but fear does not yield to logic. Fear laughs in logic’s face.
I’m going to cut myself some slack and ease into presenting myself to the world for mankind’s eternal record. I’m going to audiotape myself reading my posts to accompany the written work. (As I wrote that, the plan seemed a little redundant.) You can read my post and click on an icon to hear me read it? Yes, that’s the plan. It’s time to do something, anything, however silly is better than paralysis. It’s time to gather my strength and take the plunge. Yes! In my next post. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. Next time.🔜