Wednesday, January 31, 2007


That's a Morrissey song title, you know, which subtly links the last post to this one in title before I directly link them in content below. Smooth, huh?

I was disappointed today as I worked on the sad songs post because I was going to include Nirvana, and ended up scanning some of Cobain's lyrics for the saddest of the sad. "Drain You" is not one of those songs, but it did have my all-time favorite Cobain lyric. Until today, that is.

Here's what I always thought it was:

If I should die, elated
I'd become your pupil.
You taught me everything
About a poison apple.
See how clever that wordplay in the first two lines is? And the "about a poison apple" completing the drug-use metaphor...even if it's mixed. I guess it's a pun/mixed metaphor, or maybe it's just two metaphors; dunno. Well, regardless, according to several online sources, I'm wrong about the lyric. It's apparently the following:

With eyes so dilated
I've become your pupil
You taught me everything
Without a poison apple.
OK, there is a tiny bit of contradiction about the "about/without" word-choice, but all seem to agree on the first line being far more direct than I initially thought. I guess the drug-use metaphor makes more sense in the latter (thanks for getting me high and not killing me) than in my version (if I die I'll be happy because you did it to me? or "to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die?"). Still, it's not as if Cobain always strove for logic in his lyrics, and besides, the play on words is so much more fun in the former.

I thought I had those lyrics all figured out by now! When I was 15 I bought that "Lithium" cassette single because the Nevermind lyrics were printed inside and everything!

Sad songs

I've become obsessed by the Sufjan Stevens song, "John Wayne Gacy, Jr." It's so awful and so beautiful. Even if you don't know the song, you can imagine how a song about John Wayne Gacy would be awful. It's sad, too, though -- maybe more sad than awful. It got me thinking about all the sad songs I love.

The Obvious Choices:

Elliott Smith
So many to choose from, but I'm going with "Ballad of Big Nothing" and "Everything Means Nothing to Me." I had to put away his posthumous album, From a Basement on a Hill, because it was just too much, especially considering his recent, mysterious death.

I consider myself lucky to have seen him play at Carnegie Mellon in 2000 with my friend Matt...luckier still to have seen Grandaddy open for him, a band I didn't know at the time and one I've grown to be pleasantly depressed by ever since.

Nick Drake
Again, three albums' worth of melancholy, but "Place to Be" always does me in. Here's the first verse: "When I was younger, younger than before / I never saw the truth hanging from the door / And now Im older see it face to face / And now Im older gotta get up clean the place." Not long after I moved to L.A., I was temping irregularly and in a rather constant state of anxiety. I was dating this sweet indie rock geek, and when I told him I was depressed and listening to Nick Drake, he gave me the advice of a sage: "STOP."

The Smiths
I often find The Smiths too cheeky to be truly depressing ("Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now" is a good example -- even the title's amusing), but "Last Night I Dreamt Somebody Loved Me" just about does it. "No hope, no harm / Just another false alarm...."

Speaking of The Smiths, Morrissey has a gorgeous song on Kill Uncle that gives me chills every time I listen. It also makes his other songs sound like nursery school fodder. Sample line from "There is a Place in Hell for Me and my Friends:" "There is a place / a place in hell / reserved / for me and my friends / and if ever I / wanted to cry / then I will / because I can."

Emily Haines & The Soft Skeleton
I really like her and I like this CD, but I almost threw it out my car window. I don't quite know it well enough yet to choose which does me in most; right now it's just a wash of aching piano ballads that makes me want to turn out all the lights and go fetal.

The Less Obvious:

Speaking of Emily Haines, her band, Metric, has a song on their last album, Live It Out, that I love, but it does get me a little down. It's not really depressing in its sound (they're a punky band, for those who don't know), but I can only listen "Handshakes" up to the final refrain, then I must skip because of the following: "Buy this car to drive to work / drive to work to pay for this car." Considering that I'm usually listening to that CD in traffic, it's just wise to move on to their much more fun "Monster Hospital."

Oh, and in case the refrain from "Handshakes" isn't bad enough, here's the final line: "Say you wanna get in / and you're gonna get out / but you won't / cuz it's a trap." Thanks Emily; that's such a comfort on my commute to my desk job.

The Flaming Lips
I love Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, in part because it's a concept album about a Japanese girl named Yoshimi who battles Pink Robots. It's also a lot of fun, and you get that typical Wayne Coyne sweet-hearted hippy sensibility throughout. It's also really depressing. Heaviest track, "Fight Test:" "I don't know where the sun beams end / and where the star light begins / it's all a mystery / and I don't know how a man decides / what's right for his own life / it's all a mystery." It might not immediately sound like the darkest of lyrics, but Coyne's delivery is so bewildered I immediately go in mini-existential-crisis mode when I hear that song. Add "Do You Realize?" to that and you've got some serious meaning-of-life rock music there.

Rufus Wainwright
I love my Rufus (shut it, Brandy), and he makes for great sing-alongs in the car, but I used to joke that he always manages to release albums during my various gay crossroads. If I described them all they would take their own post, so I'm just going to focus on "Dinner at Eight," which ends his Want One. It's a lovely song about him and his father, but it's not necessarily a heartbreaking song; it actually ends with a sort of comforting resolution. Still, it was all about the tone, the music, some of the lyrics (Somewhere near...the end of the world / Somewhere near...the end of our lives), and a certain brief bout of serious heartbreak made me pull over on the side of the road and blubber every time I heard that damn song. I had to retire the CD after a while.

What are some of your favorite sad songs? They say so much, don't they?

There is a Queer Theory dissertation

just waiting for a footnote referencing this LATimes article about Ugly Betty.

I know virtually nothing about this show, having seen half of one episode on the internet, but it's piqued my interest, thanks to GayProf's post about its ethnic and gender stereotypes, and now today's Times' article about the unspoken sexual ambiguity of Betty's nephew Justin, who is great at accessorizing and loves to sing and dance. It sounds like everyone involved has the best of intentions, but seriously, my head is spinning from all the paradoxes going on here. Here are a couple of sample quotes:

ABC President of Primetime Entertainment Steve McPherson and "Ugly Betty's" creator Silvio Horta make fair assertions that the child is too young to be sexualized, and so his orientation shouldn't play a part in the show — at least, not yet.
Okay, maybe. I can get behind that idea...sort of. They are right that overtly sexualizing him at age 12 would be inappropriate, strange, and downright creepy for a light comedy on network television. I could argue that his sexual orientation is playing a tacit role in the show, as the creators have clearly given him a set of social traits that offer easy clues to their plans for the character. They know as well as I do that one's sexual identity is as social as it is biological or they wouldn't have crafted the character the way that they did. So maybe my beef with that statement boils down to semantics, or an oversimplification of sexual identity. But then there's this statement:

[T]he message over and over from the network, producers and cast members is that in 2007 a character's sexuality shouldn't matter.
Really? It shouldn't matter? If I meet with a network exec to pitch my idea for a gay series is she going to say "Oh, so it's gay? GREAT! Sexuality shouldn't matter anymore! Let's greenlight this pronto!"

Or better yet, if it doesn't matter, maybe we shouldn't sexualize any of our characters at all, young or old! It would really solve a lot of problems, if you think about it. The sensitive gay-rights crowd wouldn't fuss about underrepresentation, and the social conservatives wouldn't crow about being offended. Heck, straight sex makes them mad too, right? We do have audiences to consider, after all!

I could go on and on, but I'll leave you with this quote:

[Michael] Urie, 26, says he took a look at the script, which called for "Wilhelmina's bitchy gay assistant" to inject Botox into his boss' brow, and he wanted to be Marc.

"Even in the beginning stages, I was glad that it wasn't a gay character that was all about going out and being some mean boy-crazy gay guy," Urie said. "He didn't just come in and say his colorful lines and talk about the cute boy and run. He's actually about something. It's just that in the world of fashion, that translates into, you know, gay guy."
I guess I'll have to tune in to see what the character's actually "about," (and I seriously want to; I'm becoming a little fascinated by this show) but judging from your quote, Michael, it sounds like you're glad that the character's not a "mean boy-crazy gay guy," but you also don't have a problem that your character's a "bitchy gay assistant" who gives his boss a botox injection. So basically, asexual gay stereotype = good, sexual gay stereotype = bad.

See what I mean? Asexuality's the way to go, people!

Friday, January 26, 2007


Mike Huckabee has set up an exploratory committee. News is here.

In case you're not familiar with recent Arkansas politics, or you're new to my blog, he's the former governor of Arkansas, and I'm not a fan. I haven't been ever since 1993, when, as lieutenant governor, he refused to call on me for a question at Boy's State after he saw me with my arms crossed while the hordes of other teenagers stood and applauded his anti-gay gays-in-the-military rhetoric. Way to take the high road and go for the homophobic in a room full of southern teenage boys. That's a tough sell! And such an important issue for you, too, since your position is SO INVOLVED with national military policy. Good work!

I might've been sexually confused when I was a teenager, but I sure wasn't politically confused. I've had him pegged ever since.

The upside is that he does have a new book out, From Hope to Higher Ground, which does class things up a bit from the weight-loss ticket he was cultivating a couple of years ago.

FROM HOPE TO HIGHER GROUND? Can you believe this guy? Yes, we know you come from A Place Called Hope too, but IT'S BEEN DONE. YOU'RE NOT CLINTON. STOP IT.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

John Adams at Disney Hall

I had one of those great concert-going experiences last night with John Adams. He's good at those. It was a night of his music for the Green Umbrella new music concert series; the LAPhil is doing a lot of his work in honor of his 60th birthday. One of the nice things about last night's concert was his conducting of it. He's an energetic conductor, and the whole evening felt that much more special as a result of his leading the orchestra.

There were three pieces performed. The first was a short piano piece called China Gates, which was an elegant start by Joanne Pierce Martin (always fun to watch). The second piece was Gnarly Buttons, which had some really engaging moments, including a cow's moo, that got a chuckle out of the audience.

The highlight, though, was Grand Pianola Music. And it was most definitely grand. It was the obvious crowd-pleaser of the evening, and rightly so. The anchors of the piece were the two open, amplified pianos at the center of the stage, played with great rigor by Martin and Vicki Ray (who I especially liked because she looked just the slightest bit like Chrissie Hynde). When the piece started there was a guy with a couple of elementary-aged kids whispering and talking softly to the boys, directing them to things to look at; it was mildly distracting at first, but once I realized what was going on ("Look at the piano! See how the hammers are going?" etc.) I found it all kind of charming. I was so relieved nobody quieted them down. They were well-enough behaved and it was all about the music, so why bother being stuffy? Besides, it's a new music series! No stuffy allowed!

It's hard to describe what happens when I respond to classical music at these concerts. I always enjoy going with JW, but my mind often wanders, and I engage intermittently. I like most of the stuff we hear, rarely hearing anything I think is truly awful , and often it's paired with something I really enjoy (see same hyperlink), but the truly transcendant musical experiences I have there are rare. It doesn't mean I don't admire and adore the LAPhil, because I would champion the variety and progressiveness of its programming, as well as its consistency, to anyone who would listen, but usually it's a handful of concerts a year that really involve me throughout. It's for the best, because I'd value the experience less, I'm sure. Grand Pianola Music was one of those experiences. Gorgeous and riveting. You can find it on itunes if you're curious. Check it out.

Oh, and Peter Sellars was in our section last night, which helped make the whole evening kind of a higher-brow, more satisfying version of the musical evening I had on Monday with Ben Stiller and Dreamgirls. Except Stiller is a much better dresser.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

I have little to say

about the Oscar noms, except that I'm a little surprised to find myself quite highly disappointed at Sacha Baron Cohen's snubbing for Best Actor for Borat.


I saw Dreamgirls last night. With Ben Stiller and his wife. Well, not literally, but they were in the balcony of the Cinerama Dome. I chose floor seats, and instead of being near Ben, I got placed in front of noisy European women, one of whom made TWO phone calls. TWO. I put my mean girl looks to good use!

So I'm not overwhelmed, nor do I really get the Jennifer Hudson hype. She's good, and I like her success story too, and I think she recovered reasonably from the whole "gay is a sin" thing, and maybe I've just heard too much of the hype and my expectations were too high, but anyway, she's fine. It's fun to see a young talented newcomer do well, and I can always enjoy insinuations of Beyonce/Hudson diva tension, etc. She's fine, she's just...well...just fine.

And am I the only one who thought it was weird that the filmmakers didn't bother to age Jennifer Hudson at all? I don't suppose they tried to age any of them, but she's the one who's worn out by life, who has trouble climbing stairs and even tells her daughter "I'm old," and yet she's as dewy and round-faced and smooth-skinned when she's making her comeback as she is in the opening frames. She looks pretty consistently early-twenties throughout, to me. Oh, and she looks like she's lip-synching. A lot. And I know she was, and I know it was her real voice, but still, a little jarring.

Eddie Murphy's good, as is Danny Glover. I was actually reminded last night of my inexplicable fondness for Danny Glover; alright, maybe I can explain it, as I have a memorable first EVER celebrity sighting when I was 17 in Little Rock and I rode on an elevator with him. This was the early days of the Clinton presidency and the city was just beginning to blip on the national radar...a total surprise. Anyway, they provide welcome maturity to the movie, especially when you've got 25-year-old Hudson looking 25 and playing the "old" mother of a 9-year-old. I don't know why I'm so hung up on that!

Oh, and for a movie called Dreamgirls, it sure is about men, isn't it? And watching Jamie Foxx is like watching an actor who's really convinced that he's a good actor, and he thinks he's done a pretty good job of convincing the masses of this fact, as well, but he's got this lingering anxiety about the fact that there are a handful of people that he has yet to win over, so this time, THIS TIME, he's REALLY going to show them. Don't get me wrong, he doesn't overact so much as just ACT. In all caps. And underlined. Maybe not in bold, but definitely underlined. And in all caps.

And I swear, if I were born 20 years earlier, I would've been SUCH a queen for Diana Ross. Even Beyonce, doing a decent Diana Ross impersonation (doesn't leave much of an impression in her scenes, except for the musical numbers -- LOVE her in the numbers), is enough to make me get a little nelly for her.

OH, and why didn't anyone tell me Rory was in it? How great is that? Actually, I'm kinda glad no one did, because it was a fun surprise. Congrats Rory!

Monday, January 22, 2007

2007 Coachella line-up, Rage Against the Machine, etc.

I know it's not really news anymore to anyone who actually cares, but the Coachella line-up was announced today. I've already reserved the Emmylou Harris room at the Joshua Tree Inn in anticipation (right next door to the Gram Parsons room, of course); that alone has me looking forward to the weekend already!

So, we all know that Rage Against the Machine is reuniting for some big-ticket Marxist rap metal. Yes, I find that paradox of consumerism and leftist ideology amusing, and no, I don't really care.

At one point in my life I owned EVERY ONE of Rage Against the Machine's CDs. Even that weird covers CD they did. I think I sold most if not all of them to Amoeba when I was cleaning house, but I was, once upon a time, quite a Rage enthusiast.

I know. The mind reels, doesn't it?

Regardless, I still maintain that their 2nd and 3rd albums are pretty infectious. And when you're sixteen years old, sexually confused, and living in small-town Arkansas, you can't really be blamed for finding a song with lyrics like "fuck you I won't do what you tell me," somewhat resonant.

When I was in Houston, just out of college, my friend Shane and I got tickets to see Rage play at...where the hell was that? Wherever the Rockets play basketball. Anyway, I don't think I bothered to change out of my navy blue polo and khakis that were the typical components of my elementary school teacher's uniform. Plaid short sleeve button-downs were a staple, as well; geez, all that time spent in the closet, you'd think I would've gotten tired of those clothes....

So, you can imagine I felt quite out of place at that show, up in the nosebleeds with the angry Texans stomping on the bleachers and shouting at security. The band put on a great show, though. And my polo-shirted and khakied self stomped and bounced and shouted right along with em.

So maybe I'll see the band again. But I'm more excited about a lot of the rest of the line-up. Good stuff! I guess I'll show my age and mention that I'm most into the Jesus and Mary Chain reunion, geek rock like New Pornographers, and Sonic Youth (I finally got the Dirty reissue and it made me feel a little 90s alterna-mid-life-crisis ten years too early). Who else should I be looking forward to?

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Favorite insult from Notes on a Scandal

Cate Blanchett to Judi Dench:


Favorite costume from Notes on a Scandal

Cate Blanchett +teased-out hair + heavy eye make-up + purple tube dress + matching panties = HOTNESS

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Hollywood Performance Marathon

I signed up for Theatre of Note's 12th annual Hollywood Performance Marathon. I've never attended it before, but they do it every year to raise money for the theater. It starts next Saturday afternoon and has dozens of acts and goes until the wee hours of Sunday morning. I'm performing a monologue in the 1-2pm hour. Come check it out if you can. Click here for more details.

Friday, January 12, 2007

New York Plays/Non-New York Plays

Today I was reading Christopher Isherwood's review of Theresa Rebeck's new play and I was struck by one of the quotes he mentions: “She looks good in black and can’t speak the English language,” Stella retorts. “She’ll do just fine in Manhattan.”

This is a funny joke, but it's so New York, right? We non-New Yorkers can only laugh at it because of an understanding of the city through things like Theresa Rebeck plays or Woody Allen movies.

And New York is so often dominated by New York plays, like Rebeck's The Scene, or Rudnick's Regrets Only or Company, or hell, A Jew Grows in Brooklyn,. This makes sense, of course, but the city's centrality to the American theater ends up heaping a lot of New York plays on the rest of the country. I don't necessarily have a problem with this, but I often wonder it's easier for the rest of the country to accept New York plays than it is for New York to accept plays about the rest of the country (or any other region to accept plays about regions other than its own).

I once heard a literary manager say once about a hit play from San Francisco that it was "too attached to the city" to do well outside of the Bay area. I took this suggestion to heart, as a lot of my plays (especially the short ones) are set in my native Arkansas, and full of a lot of specificity about the locale. They also fail to fall into either the familiar comic depictions or the overheated melodramatic depictions of the south that are pretty much the standard anywhere outside of the region. I opted against sending a couple of Arkansas shorts to a New York-based festival recently because the only thing I really had that fit their requirements just didn't make sense for a New York festival. Well, that and they didn't accept email submissions. If I could've just shot them an email attachment, maybe I would've gone ahead, but why waste postage and effort to send a naturalistic brother/sister 10-minute play set in Little Rock to a fledgling New York theater company's 10-minute play contest?

I even feel that way about one of my Los Angeles plays. I've set it very deeply in the L.A. music scene, and maybe if it were some big mythic rock story or super-edgy and in-yer-face there might be some wider appeal, but it's a story about a couple of orphaned adult sisters and their effed-up boyfriends. Is that going to appeal to East Coast audiences? Not to mention literary offices?

The one Arkansas-based play that I've written that I think has potential outside of the region is one that revolves around Bill Clinton, so it's basically the attachment to the national and historic that makes the very regional play attractive (if I'd ever do a rewrite, that is). I'd suggest an attachment to large, mythic themes might do the same to plays rooted in the specificity of non-New York plays that historical resonance does, but what if it's just a play about ordinary people, or ordinary people in the context of of a specific millieu that just happens to be outside of New York? Do those plays have a chance outside of their own respective regions? Should I have sent in that 10-minute anyway? I can certainly say without hesitation that if I ever write a New York play (and I have) with any kind of specificity whatsoever, I wouldn't hesitate to send it to any literary office in the country.

Just something to think about. I know we've had the New York-centric conversation in the blogs before, but this is another aspect I hadn't really considered before, and I haven't been too theater-bloggy lately, so I thought I'd throw that out there.

Can you think of any popular plays that challenge all of the above?

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

John Waters' assistant

Can you imagine being John Waters' assistant? It seems like it would be a lot of fun and kind of awful at the same time. Lately he seems to be getting good comic mileage out of the idea. Here's a quote from a story about why John Waters loves Britney Spears' ex Kevin Federline, or K-Fed.

(By the way, I know you know who K-Fed is; I only explained it so JW wouldn't be confused. And thanks to Joe.My.God for the link.)
Waters is such a fan of K-Fed that he ordered his assistant to go out and get him the wannabe hip-hop star's CD when it came out last year.

``She was so mad, she almost quit. She kept saying: 'I'm not doing it. Please don't make me buy it.' But she finally did. I consider it a prized possession; I haven't even taken it out of the wrapper. There's something about that guy I like, something very Baltimore and sleazy about him.''
Can't you just hear him saying all that? I love that guy.

During his "John Waters Christmas" show at UCLA Live last month, he did a bit about having to get stern with his assistant when she refused to call a made-to-order, anatomically-correct-doll-manufacturer to determine whether or not the doll Waters had ordered was going to be circumcized. I just imagine this long-suffering Jane Hathaway-type (or Anne Hathaway, if you'd rather), clenched jaw, furrowed brow, trying to maintain some integrity while she does unspeakable things like asking strangers questions about doll foreskins or supporting K-Fed's career. Too funny.

Seriously though, I'd do all that over picking up dry-cleaning and fetching annoyingly fancy Starbucks orders any day of the week. Sounds like a blast!

What I'm working on (besides the aforementioned short story)

As of this morning, I've got four pages of a new full-length screenplay (an adaptation of my short play, "Leaving Little Rock," which was then adapted as a short screenplay, and I just didn't feel like I was done with it yet), and I'm going to work some more on it on my lunch hour. I also need to return to my 1st draft of my full-length, so I definitely have plenty to keep me busy. I go back and forth on whether to abandon entirely another screenplay I spent a good portion of last year frustrated by, but all I know is that right now my head and heart seem to be in Leaving Little Rock. And the new play, too, but I don't know that I want to split my focus too much right now; momentum's a good thing.

Sorry for the laundry list of my writing business, but this morning something's telling me that sharing all the specifics might help me stick with em. I joined a Yahoo Group the other day that is nothing more than people emailing with the daily progress they're making on their writing, and I guess I appreciate the idea behind that.

I got another nice rejection

This time it's for a short story I wrote that I sent to an ezine just for the heck of it. I can't even remember why I wrote the story, or why I kept working on it (maybe as a respite from Customary Monsters, or something to work on when I was irritated at myself for not working on Customary Monsters), but I sent it to a couple of friends for feedback and I just kept pecking away at much so that I got through six drafts. As a result I figured I put enough time in to see if anybody would publish. Almost on a lark I sent it to two queer ezines, one of which said it couldn't publish because it was going on hiatus; unfortunately I got no feedback on the writing from that editor. Here's the editor's note from the second ezine's rejection, which I got yesterday:

Thank you for thinking of ________ with your fine manuscript. We appreciate your support of the journal but regret that we are unable to use your story this time.
While your piece made it to the final round of this year’s stories, there were an enormous number of great submissions, and I just couldn't publish everything I liked.
I'm sure you'll place “To the Lakehouse” elsewhere and I wish you luck.
Isn't that nice? I thought the story was decent, but I'm not as confident about fiction, as I don't read enough anymore and this is the first thing I tried to write since my undergrad creative writing class. After I got that reply, I went ahead and sent it to two more ezines and have more journals and publications in mind for subsequent submissions.

I churned out a first draft of another story and haven't looked at it in a few weeks; maybe I should give it another look. I had this idea (that I don't know if I'll go with or not) of writing a semi-La Ronde-inspired series of short stories around one central but elusive character (featured in "To The Lakehouse"), and I even jotted out an outline, but these are the only two I have so far, and I guess I worry it'll seem contrived or gimmicky. Maybe I'll just let the stories stand independently. But I guess I'll keep trying to write them.

Saturday, January 06, 2007

This cat

lived in seven apartments and at least one parsonage in four states, flew and drove cross-country, scaled Christmas trees, and smacked down bully tomcats twice her size...not to mention one bewildered 60-pound canine. She survived fleas, rocking chairs, my coming-out and my size-12 clodhoppers, and one of JW's unattended lit candlesticks. And through it all she wore a stunning coat and never lost her figure.

She fought a good hard fight against a months-long illness, but yesterday we decided it best that she accept defeat with all the grace that has been a constant through her seven years and four months among the rest of us savages.

So today I ask all of you to raise a glass to my little Beulah T!

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

My grandmother and grandfather

Dad's been scanning old photos and we spent a lot of the week rummaging through some. This is one of my favorites; I think it's about 70-75 years old. Click on it to enlarge if you want.

Just look at Mandy and Hip. Aren't they gorgeous?

I just started reading

the NYTimes review of Children of Men and it made me get teary-eyed. Have you seen this movie yet? It was one of those rare movie-going experiences where I'm able to be totally immersed in the story and floored by the artistry of the thing. And I'm no movie geek, but my movie geek cubicle neighbor feels the same way!

Monday, January 01, 2007

Remember that play

that I talked about trying to write in November? Well I finally finished it on New Year's Day. Okay, it's a very rough, 53-page first draft, but I think I've finally decided it has some potential. I've already started entertaining ideas for rewrites. And anyway, it just feels good to finish a draft of something! It's been too long!

Back in L.A.

Happy New Year!

I could not have asked for a smoother trip back to L.A. on New Year's Eve. My flight even got in early. JW and I made it to The Kitchen in Silver Lake for dinner before 9. The meal wasn't great, but it was kinda Bear Central in there, which I always enjoy. We walked over to Akbar and stayed there for about 15 minutes before calling it a night, and were back at the apt. to ring in the new year.