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Saturday, August 14, 2010

This monologue is from a dream I just had

(My Mom, to me, about my sister, after watching an extensive reel of all her childhood acting work. I ask my Mom why she didn't have more money, and this is what she says.)

She never got the money she deserved. We talked to Junior and he said he’d set up for her a whole field of money. Red leather money. Because how cool would it be for a girl to just start picking it. We’d park the car, take a right, and there would be a field and she’d run to it. But Junior got sick and halfway there I found I didn’t have my glasses, so we turned around.