A Brief Intermission

I tend to go through a kind of post-partum depression whenever I finish something.
I become overwhelmed with this sense of fear as to whether or not I've hit the mark. There's this sense of uncertainty as to whether or not this was even a worthy creative enterprise to begin with. Normally this sends me into a sort of tailspin that can be as short as a week or as long as a month. It's longer when I'm single for some reason.

My homeboy Konata used to be my easy-fix for this. As he was the only close homeboy of mine who could finish a book in a few days. It was he who singlehandedly rescued me from my fears with my Dakota Grand and Salamanca. But now he's got two girls and a wife. Run a line through him on the list.

For Childress, I was in such a cloud that it didn't matter (until my Mom got around to reading it. For Snow, it was the ex to whom the book is dedicated, as it was originally only three short stories and she encouraged me to make it longer. But when it came to Beats, Dark and even the Anna Nicole thing that never materialized I found myself trapped in a box filled with my own worries until someone of importance gave me the thumbs up. That person this time will hopefully be my manager, whenever she gets around to me.

There's usually a lot of drinking and eating out involved (not necessarily in that order). For the last two nights I've found myself at Scopello in Fort Greene. Wednesday was far worse than Thursday. Three black labels against an antipasti of deliciously grilled calamari. Thursday was an even more delicious risotto di mare (risotto with squid, clams, shrimp and mussels) and two glasses of Pinot Grigio before the Eric Roberson/Lizz "Can I just borrow you for nine months?" Fields/Heavy and Deemi show.

Even Roberson's set was somewhat difficult to endure. There's nothing worse for me than the one-two punch of love ballads on top of singledom and the completion of a creative work. Don't ask me why? This is just how I'm wired.

But as I came home with a Subway sandwich and downloading Lost on my mind, I got another visit for my newly chosen muse of the screenplay. I reminded myself that I still have five more writing projects on my board for the year, one of which some folks are actually waiting on. And of course the very thought of this got me all excited. And I couldn't sleep.

So I showered, shaved the skull and decided to writer today's blog while the snow was still falling outside, while I could still taste that risotto and sketch the pretty chocolate eyes of the Jamaican girl who served it to me.

I started plotting and visualizing, trying to forget about the fact that it's back to the kiddies on Monday. But after a meeting with one of my bosses (who's going to be working with me until they find a replacement for my co-teacher) we have a plan. And a plan was all I needed.

So now it's back to sobriety again (as I never write under the influence and prefer to keep my dream state as unimpeded as possible). I'll probably finish up Bone in the Throat, the last of the three Anthony Bourdain books I'll check this year (or maybe not as I kinda like his work) I'll move on to the latest installment of Burdett, Bangkok Haunts, make a special brunch for my darling sister Seda (and maybe Byron) on Sunday and hopefully launch into the planning stages of a new script before Monday morning when I go back to moonlighting as a teacher.

So this time I didn't get to be sad about my newborn baby for too long. There's so much work to do. It's been a long time since I've actually made good use of my time.
I downgraded my cable package, finally bought myself some new boots (as my Adidas sneakers were on their last legs), and dreamed up the first party I'm going to throw at the Lodge in nearly two years.

It's fun to be Kenji again...I think. Out.