ALMOST HUMAN...

... today. But not quite yet. Still hacking away, and congested. Still befuddled, up top. One insight from the current battle with a cold--it seems almost too much to dignify it with the word "illness"--is the realization that most things can wait. There really is nothing so urgent as to demand instant attention. I don't even have to be writing this entry... Would it be so terrible for readers to arrive at this page and find... nothing new? I think not.

Humbling, in a way, too. I attach too much to the significance of what I do. Then I look out through the window and see the city of Hollywood, California, stretched out below; I think of all the words being entered on all those computers on just this one day--all those novels and poems, all those business documents and letters and, in this city, all those screenplays; and then my mind wanders back to all those words pounded out on all those typewriters over the decades, many of them intended, but so few of them ever reaching, the "silver screen"... So many earnest people, so many ambitions!

... and here, today, is my small handful of words, cast out into that same ocean. With nary a splash, really. You see what I mean? Still, I keep doing it, if only because that's what I do.

(I warned you: befuddled. If not benighted.)