April 12, 2003
Summoning the Musesentry,
The last two weeks have been tough for me. Between the rampaging RSV (at least three of us have gotten sick -- maybe four, if it's possible for a grownup to have RSV) and the impending technical conference at which I'm a key player, I've managed to grind the buffer down to 21. That wouldn't be so bad, except that I'm not finding my funny.
This week I've written about eight scripts. Two of them were keepers. The other six sucked hard enough to pull ugly off of an ape.
It's times like this that I wonder how I can possibly expect to be funny. And it's at times like this that I desperately NEED to be funny -- you see, I'm also fighting off a case of depression (or maybe recession... hard to tell these days), and whether it's dietary, hormonal, electrochemical, or spiritual in nature matters very little. I'm tired and sad, and whatever laughter I manage to dredge up sounds forced.
Now I realize the last thing most of you want to read is an account of me being depressed, so I'll spare you the details. As much as misery may love company, I'm well aware of the fact that when misery is as misery does, the company misery gets is not company much worth keeping. So the general plan is that I'll replace this moany-groany, achy-breaky letter with something chipper in a day or two.
Even if I have to feed myself through a wood-chipper to do it.