Rubber Brains Bounce

Immediately after composing that last entry, I stayed up all night and finished A Darkling Plane. It was one of those crazed, 16 hour runs. When noon came, and the finished, printed script sat beside me, I covered my head in pillows and couldn’t sleep. I remember a time when that was a weekly occurence. I remember, dimly, a time when it seemed nightly.

So. It is done. I may have slipped it in just under a year’s time. My last screenplay, Occult Blood, was finished only weeks after arriving in Harlem, and A Darkling Plane started up a few days later. Late last August, I estimate.

Thus. I wrote four screenplays in my first year out of college, and a fifth in my second.

I cannot place what happened there, except to imagine that it’s somewhere around fear and disappointment. Doubt and discouragement. How will a fifth screenplay (or, now, a sixth) do what the previous have failed? How can I believe this is requisite to entering a new life? How could writing ever free me of solitude? I suppose that as my faith in those chimeras fail, so goes my ambition, my creativity, my energy, and my spirit.

And I’m left so tired.

On the 25th, Momentary Engineering goes into production. Check it out here.

Brain Damage

My brain is damaged.

Nothing has ever given me so much trouble as A Darkling Plane, and I being to wonder if I’ll really ever enjoy writing again. It is so slow-going. It feels vastly unrewarding. I’ve come to that dreaded page 60, and I fear that it’s just a dud.

In fact, at times like this, I hope it’s just a stinker – at least that would explain the horrendous difficulty I’ve had for the last YEAR.

Either the screenplay is damaged – or I am. The struggle to CARE is at times (like this) insurmountable. My mind refuses to enter the story. The moments refuse to play. The characters refuse to speak. Either it is dead, or my mind is broken. Neither seems a pleasant alternative.

I am tired. Inexplicably but inescapably tired. My head is empty. And I feel like I could lay here on the floor, empty-headed, for eternity.

A Candidate Who Says What He Means (Most of the Time)

A Candidate Who Says What He Means (Most of the Time)
By CARL HULSE
Published: August 5, 2004

This no doubt confirmed the worst fears of President Bush’s most severe critics.

As he signed a $417 billion Pentagon spending bill today, the president offered his own unique take on how the money would be used. “Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we,” Mr. Bush said. “They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people – and neither do we.”