whatever.

Tonight I put metaphorical pen to paper not for any good reason, other than the fact that there are people out there -- at least three -- who look here for me now and then. I've offered them various lame excuses when they remark on the stagnancy (is that a word?) of this place, and since "lame" is a behavioral quota I've clearly used up by now, well, here it is.

(cue fanfare)

the next post.

so what's up? work is busy, thank goodness... that helps on more fronts than just the material, believe you me. photography simply isn't happening; the camera has been in the shop (the bad kind of shop, that is -- and if you don't know what I mean, then you've never been truly broke), thus the lack of visual delights herewith (you'll just have to make do with the cat on my hat for a while longer).

other things -- besides photography -- you won't find in this post:

• politics (almost abandoned this blog at its genesis when it threatened to be exclusively--and ham-fistedly--political)
• sex (and that's all I'm gonna say about that... my mom reads this blog, for fuck's sake)
• religion (there just isn't enough room here to even get started on that subject)
• complaints about set decorators (there just isn't enough room here to even get started on the subject!)
• and -- as if you hadn't yet noticed -- wit, reason or anything that resembles a point.

what else is up?

i'm finally getting some work done on the pitch -- and editing the teaser video -- for the would-be TV show about my pal's soon-to-be around the world trip. The spine of the pitch is written, and we've captured quite a bit of the video we've shot during his many sails to catalina island, along with his excellent video from his previous travels (to africa, south america and points between and beyond). i'd forgotten -- again -- how much i enjoy the discipline of editing, and how pleasing it is to apply oneself to pursuits for which one has aptitude (yep, for an unschooled, unwashed heathen, I'm pretty durn good at it).

what else?

i'm so fucking fat. and really, at this point, aside from starving, there's not much to be done about it. I leave the house at a dark, ungodly hour, and get home late... so the gym is out, at least for now. this is such a shame -- last year at this time i was friggin hot.

on another note, i've reached this odd zen-like space in driving my weekly 500 miles to and from work. i don't think much about ten hours in the car each week... i just alternate between the iPod and NPR, all the while given to my usual flights of fancy... there used to be a time when those added up to a screenplay, but after writing six features and selling none, I've vowed that if again i put proverbial pen to paper it will be for a novel (and that, dear reader, scares the shit out of me). i must have gotten used to it, because this morning I got up and out the door by six a.m. and drove three hours (again, not incidentally, in the effort to not be lame)... non-stop from ventura to palos verdes and straight back, with only a tiny pit-stop in burbank... three-plus hours on the road, and on saturday!

clearly, I've lost it. but then, the three of you who sojourn here are already and long acquainted with my madness.

I guess i could go on like this a good time longer (i hear the wags among you hooting "that's not what I'd call a good time!"), but I'm not gonna.

as Garrison Keillor regularly quips between nose whistles at the end of the writer's almanac,

"be well, do good work, and keep in touch."

in other words,

whatever.

(I whispered that last, and kindly don't tell my wife, or kids... they hate it when i say that.)