It's Monday. It's California. It's February. And the temp is expected to reach 80 degrees today. And to my disbelief, I'm not doing any writing today except for this. Well, that's the hope [I've reached some bizarre yet exciting auto-pilot when it comes to writing. i wake and write. if i don't, life feels off balanced]. So the plan today is to abstain. A little imbalance never hurt anybody.

Anyway, the plan for today is also BIKE RIDING. Hang out up in Los Feliz, eat some clean food and sit in the sun. It's been a crazy month for me. I've been in rehearsals for my play Farewell Miss Cotton. We open Saturday and I'm numb and scared and excited and tired.

I love theater. It is truly sacred and pure and the stage is most definitely sanctuary. And the more I write the more I'm certain storytelling is one of the most important forms of empowerment. It's as ancient and divine as memory. Most of my friends are in the business and/or creation of storytelling whether it be professionally or just as a way of life. I love this path I've chosen. I would have it NO OTHER WAY. It truly allows me to reach the farthest corners of myself. And if I'm not continually growing and learning and being I AM UNHAPPY. So I thank the Divine for showing me my path!

BUT...

Farewell Miss Cotton has knocked me off my feet and my butt is sore as hell. In between the actors' schedules, my rewrites [which were plenty], finally landing a director, the actors threats and complaints and joke pitches and tardiness and excuses, not to mention my defensiveness and need to self-protect and learning to surrender to the director's vision and letting go of my need to write the perfect play, and then add on a crunch time of a three week rehearsal, I need some serious R and R. RIGHT NOW!

So...

Until next time,

Keith