Back On The Horse With Frank

When one has an ego the size of an electron and is ensconced in withering, pathetic guilt, as I am, it doesn't take much to cause emotional upset. Earlier this week, I found out that I forgot to pay one of my bills, a rather large one, and the money for that bill is missing. The details are inconsequential, but if you're kith or kin to me, my reaction was probably upsetting; I took my fuck-up rather hard.

To boost my spirits and escape my gelatinous prison I've decided to pretend I'm Frank (Henry Fonda) from Once Upon A Time In The West, the classic Sergio Leone "spaghetti western" featuring the profoundly moving and powerful music of Ennio Morricone. If you know the movie, you know that Frank is one bad dude. He also has more than his fair share of style. This is not a fellow who is inclined towards feelings of self-doubt or guilt. He's a psychopath on a horse, a leader of men, and a sex bomb. And his eyes...damn.

I probably shouldn't take this too far. After all, it's still not legal in Massachusetts to shoot people who annoy you...this isn't Texas. But I'm being too literal. I just want the Frank attitude. To just mosey through life, taking what I want, free of my annoying, neurotic mind ruining the fun. If I can get Linda to show me how to ride a horse, so much the better to complete the transformation. In terms of neuroses, I'm like a fat Woody Allen, except I'm not a pedophile.