10: She is with you

I'm sure I've been this lonely before, but it's hard to come up with better evidence.

Cripes. It's 11:47 on a Friday night and I'm an able-bodied 22-year-old exiling himself ni his basement listening to a 39-year-old interview with John Lennon and procrastinating. I could be writing my new-new play, which I'm really excited about. I've been getting good ideas that feel a bit more pure, less forced, than the ones in my old-new play. More like me. I'm worried it's not different enough from Half-Past. I feel like people would see this one that's in the works and go "He already did this, but he had a bench and a prostitute and a transsexual mafia person. Where's all that stuff now?" But there are things in here that wouldn't have worked in that play at all.

I overthink things like this. I assume my audience is just gonna hate anything I do for some reason, be frustrated by my ambition because maybe I ain't got the talent to pull it off. I've been assured I do, by some parties reliable enough to say so and some not. I'm incredibly neurotic about the writer-audience interaction because when something doesn't work in something I'm watching, I'm thinking about the guy who wrote it and what he was trying to accomplish. When something does work, most people don't think about the guy who wrote it, they think about the person saying it. What a thankless job. I don't mind, though.

I wrote a line of dialogue that was way off-kilter. And I loved it because it didn't sound anything like the way a person would write a line of dialogue but it sounded to me weirdly enough like the way a person would end up saying it. And I re-read it and I thought about it and I liked it enough to keep it, but all the while I was thinking "People are just going to think I'm too stupid to know how people actually talk." But that's just my insecurity.

Nothing much interesting going on, really. Just felt like venting.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto