Strangely I almost always stay up too late on Tuesday because, like the six year-old I truly am, I’m having too much fun to go to bed. I even have a timer set right now because I can tell this could turn into a 3,000 word post any time. Except it really can’t. I have fields and commitments tomorrow. A sentence that will only truly make sense to those raised to be dyed in the wool Catholic.
I haven’t blogged lately, not because I don’t love you, not because I don’t want to, but because the fever to write has been burning very hot. Writing for work, writing for Rain Girls, and, God help me yet another short screenplay idea that is yammering away somewhere behind my right ear. So noisy in my head these days.
So please forgive me. Forgive me, if when I am talking with you I start twitching and staring at the ceiling. I’m just writing. Forgive me if you ask me one question and I answer an entirely different one. Forgive me if I don’t blog for a few days or a week because it is not lack of something to say, but rather because I’m hacking through such a dense thicket of too much to say it is all I can do to stay on the trail. And I must do that. Stay on the trail. At least most of the time, otherwise I can’t wash and dress myself, go to work, be a thoughtful and contributing co-worker and stay off the street, out of prison and away from the psych ward and the knife drawer.
I know how to do this. It is a wonderful, scary, magical thick and spicy hot time in my head and I do know how to steer a safe course, I do. But be gentle with me if I ignore what you need and heed not what you say. You are important to me, but I need to safely run this stretch of rapids in the way that I know.
By day I did my best to listen, support and communicate to the greater good that is the fabulous university at which I’m privileged to work. All these super smart people trying to make the world a better place. It is awesome in the truest sense.
On guitar I played a Spanish dance by Albeniz, Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen, a Waltz by Calatuyud, Sonando by Zenamon and hacked away at a lullaby Ninna-Nanna by Carlo Domeniconi. Next week I’ll be sight reading a Led Zepplin ballad. I’m not sure I knew Led Zepplin wrote ballads but it is a masterful demonstration of Legato according to my Maestro – for whom I must chose an new title as he informs me that in Mexico the Maestro is the head brick layer – I know a few opera conductors who’d choke on their Cinzano if they heard that!
I also made chicken fricassee with tarragon, outlined a new short film Conflict of Interest, and made it into the thick of the third act of the Rain Girls pilot. Apparently the Misthra-el are blue and hairless and quite androgynous. Yes, it was a surprise to me too. I can hardly wait to meet the Elkinn-el. Now I must go tweet about the Banff International Television Festival 2010 (#Banff2010) as I am vying for a free pass to the delightful high altitude madness.
In case you are interested. The timer went off 19 minutes ago. G’night’n’g’bless.
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