#9: Find Your Grail

Y'know, I'm sorry if I downplayed New York City as soon as I got back. It's something I ought to rectify. My trip to that city - especially that it was with the Drama kids - really had a profound effect on me, and I feel richer for having been. It was an awesome experience and knowing how it turned out I'd feel super-lame if I hadn't gone. From the moment we stepped off the bus in NYC, (or even much earlier,) to the pre-dawn raid on the border on Sunday morning, it was a fuckin' blast. The only reason I was hesitant to write about it is that I wrote so extensively (I feel,) in my Writer's Craft journal on the subject that I felt I'd exhausted myself on it.

Anyway, this sentiment is brought out because today Alyssa delivered something very special to me: a copy of the Spamalot original cast recording. Listening to it, I was swept back into jsut how damnably good that show was. I'm overflowing with love right now.

Strangely, I'm also immersed in beat poetry, which is by and large depressing stuff, so that's kinda levelling me out. Until today it was Kerouac, now it's Ginsberg. Man, that guy is gay. No, seriously, one of the poems I read explicitly explains how he feels when getting nailed in the ass. The shockingness of it is pretty cool, actually.

I'm reaching a creative high, I think. I'm on my way to the upside of the arc. I'm writing Metaworld again, along with my own (admittedly lame) attempts at beat poetry, and will soon delve back into the latest issue of Sewerman (I promise.) Plus, I'm dabbling in my self-indulgent screenplay, called "Work in Progress" (a title that falls short of clever, like all my titles,) it's coming along, but might never get done. There's also the germ of an idea in my head for a novel(la?) called "The Life of Melancholy Catatonia: An Attack on a Novel" Atop all this, I contribute every now and again to Fiction Branches at Sapphire's Palace, and have schoolwork to contend with and... God, I swear I still review comics somewhere. So I'm keeping busy, you could say.

I'm fascinated by my own infernal English Essay. I always feel like a word limit on an in-class essay, where I have no way of accurately economizing words (as on a computer,) is actually a challenge to go way over. I always go way over, and right now I'm sitting basically at the limit without having written a conclusion. And also, my rough draft has no quotes, so... yeah. Hey, in case you can't infer from his very blog, I'm one wordy mofo. I'm loquacious by nature. That's me. And admit it - you love me for it.

No more to say. Not for now. Nothing seems important. Blogging is like therapy, but I'm doin' all right. (Okay, that's a lie, but my problems aren't bothering me as much.)

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto