Stutter.
So. New Year's.
Seth neglected to mention, of course, that at one point in the evening Joseph and I found ourselves in a corner gesticulating wildly and debating the merits of Heraclitus. Probably because he forgot it entirely, and perhaps because he would interrupt at several minute intervals cackling about how we were way too focused on the clit.
Which is probably the first time anyone has ever accused me of that.
Anyway.
Ava got her puppy for Christmas, little rascal of a thing that she named with no prompting of yours truly Kenny Fisher. I have the most brilliant daughter in the history of the world.
I love New York, and I'm reluctant to leave it. More and more I find myself wondering if we won't end up spending most of our time here when filming doesn't have us thrown to all parts of the world. I'm due in Morocco at week's end, a couple more weeks of filming and then I should be in the clear for the foreseeable. I'm hoping to coax Mr. and Mrs. Deschanel over for dinner before we go. I won't let Seth near the kitchen, I promise.
There's nothing else in the pipeline, at the moment. Still trying to get Dorian Gray off the ground. Still waiting for that perfect role.
I'm happy, though. Sometimes I think we struggle not to be, if that makes any sense. We lose our edge, we become complacent, we become lazy. That's the rumor, at any rate, and besides, artists aren't suppose to be in love with life. I guess at the end of the day if I had to choose being happy over being successful there's no real choice there, at all. I don't have to do this to live. I'm surprisingly content with life the way it's been. Still hungry, but not starving. Maybe that's the balance, in the end.
Seth neglected to mention, of course, that at one point in the evening Joseph and I found ourselves in a corner gesticulating wildly and debating the merits of Heraclitus. Probably because he forgot it entirely, and perhaps because he would interrupt at several minute intervals cackling about how we were way too focused on the clit.
Which is probably the first time anyone has ever accused me of that.
Anyway.
Ava got her puppy for Christmas, little rascal of a thing that she named with no prompting of yours truly Kenny Fisher. I have the most brilliant daughter in the history of the world.
I love New York, and I'm reluctant to leave it. More and more I find myself wondering if we won't end up spending most of our time here when filming doesn't have us thrown to all parts of the world. I'm due in Morocco at week's end, a couple more weeks of filming and then I should be in the clear for the foreseeable. I'm hoping to coax Mr. and Mrs. Deschanel over for dinner before we go. I won't let Seth near the kitchen, I promise.
There's nothing else in the pipeline, at the moment. Still trying to get Dorian Gray off the ground. Still waiting for that perfect role.
I'm happy, though. Sometimes I think we struggle not to be, if that makes any sense. We lose our edge, we become complacent, we become lazy. That's the rumor, at any rate, and besides, artists aren't suppose to be in love with life. I guess at the end of the day if I had to choose being happy over being successful there's no real choice there, at all. I don't have to do this to live. I'm surprisingly content with life the way it's been. Still hungry, but not starving. Maybe that's the balance, in the end.