It’s 2 am. I’m drinking hot coffee and cold whiskey at more or less equal pace. Miles Davis, John Lee Hooker and Nick Cave are randomly shuffling on the stereo. I’ve just finished the script to SIX STRINGS THAT DREW BLOOD. I’m more or less banging this out to give my fingers something to do while I wait for my brain to settle into a new gear, so I can get on and write some thing else. I’ve got the pitches for 2 BEATS SIDEWAYS and MARLOWE to write up, but i’m in the wrong headspace for them. I think I’ll probably wind up generating something new. I’ve got weird Buddha images sitting here in my head screaming to be let out, but I have no fucking clue where they’re leading me.

[addendum: I think I’ve just inadvertantly started a weird martial arts story. Yet another on the list for later…]