At Least It's Not Thursday

Bleurgh. It’s 12:30 on a Saturday night, and I’m not sleepin’.

I saw a show last night, The Invention of Love, that stirred more ideas and made me think more than any show I’ve seen in a long, long time. It was excellent, in every aspect. Technical, performance, production values, the whole nine yards. A damn good show.

Right now I’m… I’m wondering what I’m doing. There are people I need to talk to, more than one, none of which are likely awake. I kind of want a cigar but it’s far too cold outside to enjoy one, and my voice is finally on the mend, so I’m not about to tempt fate.

In thinking on my latest screenplay (okay, my second one), I think I may go back to my original ending. It had more punch than what I’ve been working on since. I haven’t given up on the notion of change, but in this case I think it may be futile. This story has… weight, for me. The ending should reflect that. Too many happy endings in Hollywood these days, anyway…

G’night, folks. And sweet dreams.