Fall

Haven’t posted here since last October.

Which means I’ve been in Venice for a year.

When I moved in, I had nothing besides my bed and my clothes and my books, stacked on the floor and climbing up my walls like still ivy. I had to buy everything else; a couch, a table, chairs, dishes, hand soap, towels (why the fuck do trashcans cost 40 dollars, it’s just plastic). So many small things that are small when you have them and big when you don’t. And it took time for me to get everything (still don’t have a headboard, sorry) because I had and have no money. But that made everything I bought mean something because it was mine. And now for the first time I'm in a space filled with me, sitting up straighter, with my books no longer on my floor but on my shelves, growing out after growing up…

I have all this writing I don’t know what to do with so I think I’m going to start posting it here. Screenwriting is such a restrictive medium that I need to free write without editing just as a way to balance it all out (not that it does, but I’m trying)…

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It’s getting colder out now. The air has lost its weight, there is less pressure to do now that summer is over. Going outside is now a choice for you to make instead of something you owe yourself. And you owe yourself a lot, but not that. Radiators are rumbling in your building, waking up as we all get ready for an overdue sleep, and those bins you packed away with coats and scarves and you are now being pulled out and cracked open. They smell like thread and fuzz and old time; a time for dark bars and dark beers, orange light and wind kites, fallen leaves and long sleeves…

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P.S. When I finish this new draft of Country Girl for these two producers I think I may just post it here for you guys to read. That saves me from having to write individual emails for everyone that asks and saves you from feeling like you have to read it once I send it to you. Read when you want— you don’t need my permission, or my awkward email...