I spent yesterday doing what I pretty much do everyday — writing on the latest movie screenplay (am even approaching the homestretch — hurray!), and then spent last night workshopping some writing with my glorious girls, Miss Becky Thyre and Miss Helena Harvilicz, along with the delightful Herr Gordon Henderson. As my adorable teenage Baby Goat would say with a sassy flip of her impossibly-silky, yard-long Pantene hair — it was SO RICH!

The day was full and ever-so-satisfying. Like some chubby, ancient Eliza Doolittle with skin-tags, a gunt, a Fresno pedigree, and a ticking clock, I always feel like I could dance all night, so to speak — and practically did, seeing that I came home over after our meeting and immediately wrote some fucking more, like a keyboard harridan obsessed. And today, I am RIGHT BACK TO IT. Enough of this gathering rosebuds while she may horseshit; I am done with consumption. Now it’s all about creation.

But as I sit here now, tucking into my first cup of delicious coffee and snuffling the skulls of my two gorgeous chihuahua honey-pies, it just hit me full force — what a GLORIOUS way to spend one’s time: Creating entire worlds with people whom you both admire and adore.

I’m like a blitzed spigot, an engorged breast, a dysenteried bunghole, an open vein. For good or for bad, there is no stopping it, I’m afraid.