Even my bad beagles are snoring in the kitchen. I've watched every episode of anything remotely available online, even cried e-tears, and now it's 1:30 in the morning and time to work. I perfected this system in college and frankly, when I'm not up starting to work after midnight, it's not that anything(me) has changed (ie, matured, improved, professionalized it-my-self) only that I must not be working at all.
So here I am, because there is work to be done, because the beagles are snoring, because it is my turn at the Big Desk, the mahogany table that used to belong to my father. Now the polished wood is covered with remnants of the final exams of all the other smaller people who have joint custody of the BD. There is a roll of toilet paper on top of a latin book, which means somebody has been crying. I am hoping it is not an omen. But one of the things about writing after midnight is that you are often too tired to cry. Also, after midnight, it doesn't matter that the batteries on all five sets of noise canceling earphones in your house are dead.
Because all you can hear are the bad beagles snoring. All the brains of the world are sleeping and now for a few productive hours you can steal all that spare thinking for yourself. It's like that. Only fleeting.
By the time I finish this sentence it will be gone, and when I turn back to the manuscript I will write a page of horrible drivel that I will erase just after midnight tomorr…o..w…
Yeah. See you tomorrow night.
chocolate cake with thick gooey frosting
decent latte always made by the same guy who doesn't care that I have to use a credit card even though it costs less than 3 bucks
the nicest free office space in santa monica even if you have to run up the stairs faster than the screenwriters at 9:59 to get them.
people who recognize me and nod whether or not they know my name
a writer's colony of 3 (two other writers for Little, Brown sometimes write there)
cool jetsons architecture surrounding desert eco-courtyard with fake stream running through it
lots of books that smell like the crinkly cellophane they're wrapped in
giant earphones that make me look like a DJ
outlets everywhere, at every table
a free showing of the movie Pete's Dragon sometime next week, and where else will you see Mickey Rooney and Helen Reddy in the same hour…
did i mention the chocolate cake?