February 9. Los Angeles. Expected temp: 90 degrees. [See yesterday's post re: Global Warming]

Woke up this morning and called my boy Jimmie D. Woody. Jimmie is a do-all artist—actor, director, painter, go-getter with a heart of gold who after earning his master's from Columbia University, moved back home to Cleveland to handle family matters, and has been trying to break loose from the Mistake on the Lake every since. Jimmie and I met several years ago when he directed a workshop of my play WILBERFORCE at the Cleveland Public Theater. We bonded over the THEN recent losses of our mothers.

Jimmie helps me calm down in times of theatrical crisis. And I needed some serious calming. Last night was the first dress rehearsal for my play Farewell Miss Cotton. [We open NEXT FRIDAY]. And things were a MESS. Actors still going up on lines; actors calling for lines. A frustrated director; an overwhelmed stage manager. And me. The playwright. Sitting in the back row, thinking I've done something wrong. That I've written an incomprehensible play that is so dense with language that the actors can't even understand its logic, or memorize its dialogue. And somehow that has spun the entire cast and crew into a frenzy. [Warning: I don't know how much you can really trust what I just said. I'm a playwright, who has a tendency to beat his head against the wall until opening night when everything is USUALLY perfect. Once, I even beat my head against a wall about my very own TYPO. I think you understand what I'm getting at. Yes, at times, I take artistic license and get a bit crazy].

Jimmie talked me through my chaos and fear and then recommended an amazing remedy for the playwright blues: TAKE THE DAY OFF. So... the cast and crew of Farewell Miss Cotton at the Black Dahlia Theater will not see Keith Josef Adkins tonite. I'm no longer in the mood for beating my head against the wall. I'll be at one my favorite grub spots, Cobras and Matadors, eating some damn good Tapas. That is after I go see Nikki Giovanni lecture in Pasadena.

Until next time,

Keith