Which pisses me off. I don't really drink, maybe a beer with lunch or dinner, now and then. Never did drugs...though I did try pot, once, but it messed with me like cigarettes did, so I never smoked. Either of them. I'm not very active but I'm not inactive. And while I'm not a great lover of salads, I've eaten more in the last six months than I had in the previous six years. And all I lost was five pounds and my body's taken a fuck you attitude.
All this denial and aversion to fun and games, for nada. I could've been an alcoholic writer blaming his craft for his drinking problem. Or artist using LSD to bring him visions for his canvas. Instead, I'm an old fart who's falling apart and have to fight to create decent stories, now. Makes me very grumpy.
I remember one occasion, where I wrote the first draft of a script...Find Ray T...I drank a few beers a day for a week to see what I'd come up with. And it turned out pretty solid. The structure was set. The characters, too. Details have changed and aspects were enhanced for humor's sake, since, but if you read the first draft and compared it to the final draft, you'd be able to see one flowed from the other.
I could've done that so many times. Maybe I should try it, again. I think I drank Corona, that time. Or was it Dos Equis? One or the other. And I held down a steady job at Book Soup...or did I take a week off? I don't remember that part. I just know the idea of an actor forced to help the Mafia find a snitch who was in Witness Protection came from watching Johnny Depp on a talk show, revealing he'd met Joe Pistone, the guy who was Donny Brasco, to research his part...and it fell together.
I like how it turned out...humor, action, suspense, romance...but no one else was enthused.
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