Again, it's been awhile--hasn't it?--since new content appeared in this space. Heaven knows, it's not like there's been a shortage of things to discuss. There were, for instance, the deaths of the brilliant film editor Sally Menke, the great director Arthur Penn, astonishingly prolific TV genius Stephen J. Cannell (who created everything from the legitimately great The Rockford Files and Wiseguy to guilty pleasure favorites like Hardcastle And McCormick, as well as the entirely forgotten Broken Badges, and for those of you who never had the pleasure of hearing my mom go on and on about the transcendent stupidity of that last one, I pity you), not to mention Tony Fucking Curtis. There's the nation's stunned disbelief that Christine O'Donnell can even remember to breathe, much less be nominated to high office. There was a health scare involving my beloved puppy Isabella, who apparently has epilepsy. Oh, and there's Janie, the current (and hopefully future) love of my life.
I really intend to go on and on about here sometime, especially since women I've barely dated or merely slept with have received more space here than seems necessary. But for now, let me just say she is probably the main reason there have been fewer postings here lately. With her, I'm finally learning to--what's the word?--relax. I'm finding some measure of calm and, if I may, contentment. And I'm finding that much of my writing in the past was fueled by melancholy, or anger, or feelings other than joy. Not always, of course, but often enough.
So if I'm entering some sort of mellow phase here, the obvious challenge to my writing life is to figure out how to balance happiness--and by happiness I mean the lack of crippling depression--with creativity. I'm not used to feeling more good than bad, and who knows how long the feeling will last, but for now it's a whole new journey. Hopefully, I'll file reports along the way.
