This year I performed in 4 plays, directed one, sold plants at a bazaar, learned that plants have feelings, took up knitting, i don’t know why, wrote a new pilot about a virgin taking on multiple lovers, then acted in an indie film as a puritanical nun. I finished the script for my next film, trashed it, started outlining a book, loving it. I wrote 7 poems, signed up for the first time at an open mic organized by students–chickened out last minute–pitched a series to international producers and used the word pussy, was told that was the best thing they’ve heard that day.
So when I gave a talk on how to pitch I told students to watch their language in front of executives, except when they’re foreigners in which case go to fucking town.
I started fires, put out some, held a friend’s hand through darkness and got held back in return.
I did a short film, produced a music video and cautiously returned to my tribe, one tiny step at a time. I had my last two eye surgeries and George and Mary are getting along well.
I got hold of some truths,
got back in the game.
2015, you were quietly magnificent. In your joy, your grief, your regret, your insight and your hard-won, unsteady peace. Thank you for moving me. Let’s keep moving. Cheers to 2016. Salute. ❤️