Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Time Killer

I kill time. That’s all I do all day, every day. I have a single goal: To do something with my dresses and script. But it’s non-binding; I don’t really care whether anything happens with it or not. It’s fair to say that I’m stagnating. I take all these pills to maintain a life with no purpose.
Some peers travel a lot. Others are still trying to “be something;” still caught up with appearance and power. Some still work. Visiting with friends is something many do, including me, but that’s losing its appeal, I’m sad to admit.
My play project is how I chose to fill my abundant time. And that goal is only served in the writing and property-making stage. If it goes into production I’ll have six more dresses to make and then the whole project be over for me — except to see it on stage.
And speaking of that … Monday morning I re re-wrote the ending. It’s become a bit of a wine ballet — wine is a central character; the stage directions map the movements of bottles and glasses and there’s plenty of glass filling direction as well.
I wrote to Boca and asked if they wanted a copy of the draft and they did. I sent them a copy and now my anxiety, of course, if focused on rejection. They decide in two-to-four weeks.
Monday afternoon I went to see The Red Turtle. Even with Cipralex, my walk to see it was rough. The walk home was better. (Turtle is odd, animated and beautiful. It’s an animated watercolour painting. It’s without dialogue and has lovely moody music. I loved it. John and Bunny, maybe not so much.)


















Monday, February 27, 2017

Oscars / Dresses

Health: I’m stoned on speech. Cipralex (Escitalopram — where in Hell do they get these names?)) is right up there with Combivir, my HIV medication. Cipralex is my second medical miracle.
Combivir keeps me alive and Cipralex gives me speech. I was living my life at a level-ten intensity of anxiety before Cipralex; now I’m living at an intensity level more like three or four. But its my remarkable capacity to speak that feels truly miraculous.
When I went for a walk along the seawall to Granville Island, I wanted to stop people and tell them “I can talk” and phone everyone I knew.
The Oscars: Biggest Ego - Sting; Biggest Bore - Sting; Overacting Award -Viola Davis; Greatest Achievement – the show’s set decorator; Greatest High - Moonlight winning best picture; Worst Speaker - Casey Affleck; Best Speaker: Octavia Spencer (red carpet); Most Embarrassing Thing Ever Done on the Oscars - The bus people; Classiest Winner - Jason Hurwitz (composer and musical director, La La Land.). Fabulous dresses: Emma Stone and Bree Larson.
Defiant Dress: I finished draft 1-B of my script. It’s just a modest entertainment: It’s short, it’s structurally sound and there’s some merit to it. It’s just still a little flat.
What’s going on? Why is everything working?  Next time I go to the bathroom I’m going to check the toilet for diamonds.















Solar panel farm at night!

Sunday, February 26, 2017

I can talk!

At eleven AM I phoned Steve and for the first time in a year I talked on the phone without stuttering. It has to be the drugs; it has to be. So I called Paula, just to see if it worked with her and to hear myself talk without stuttering. There were a few little ticks but hardly any at all. It’s incredible, absolutely incredible. I still can't talk perfectly out loud alone, so the problem isn’t gone, but WHAT AN IMPROVEMENT! 
I'm forced to realize my reluctance, my prejudice against drugs, kept me from this benefit for eleven months?
I'm going for a walk. It's sunny out there.

Anxiety Irony

Irony is being anxious about taking anti-anxiety medication.
I started the Cipralex on Saturday.
Cipralex, a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI,) is approved for the treatment of generalized anxiety disorder in adults.  There may be a significant improvement in symptoms in the first week; the majority of patients respond by week eight.  
I may be seriously screwed up with C-PTSD — my Friday meltdown was dreadful to experience physically and it left me worried about its implications for my future. But I’m rockin’ writing. I’m almost half-way through draft 1-B.
I have two days to I finish this re-write if I’m to send it to Boca. Their competition deadline is March 1. I’ve already applied using my scenario but the script may help my cause. If I fail at getting the residency (workshops) it could be a big disappointment. However, a plan B will emerge.