2003-01-16 4:37 p.m.
is this Yom Kippur? no? well, I'm sorry anyway.

I've been leading a simple life lately: good food, better sex, wonderful company, no sleep, no write, work work work. Friends all a-swirl, random schedules every which way, and I'm running so fast, so hard, I'm out of breath a lot.

Part of that is because I couldn't move forward on my play and I've been trying to keep busy. It hurts, putting these words down, putting these characters through these motions. I'm sure it'll hurt less after the first draft or two, when the damage is done, burned into the page, when the characters can't stare back at me through the ether accusingly for what I'm doing to them. I don't like any of these people, yet I love all of them, if that makes any sense. They're making the hardest choices of all, much harder ones than their real-life counterparts have ever had to, and as hard as that is on me (the ever-sensitive writer-type), I have to, I want to finish this.

L and I talked about this a few days ago, and I almost had myself convinced into abandoning this project for a while. Comics and prose sounded like the primrose path, an easier place to walk, less personal and less raw. But I don't like the idea of leaving this rawness unresolved. If I never touch that space again that I was living in for most of a year, but I finish this play, that'll be enough.

I just filled in my outline's gaps a few minutes ago, the denouement and the new status quo, and now I want to cry and hug someone. I'm sorry, guys.

I also have a sneaking suspicion I'm going to need to move soon. This place costs too much and is a bit too charged psychically...lots of interference. Maybe it's the fact that I haven't been able to decorate, maybe I'm too busy to enjoy it, maybe it's the shitty old furniture I can't replace. Or maybe I sense that I just need to streamline.