Tough to be an artist


So I finally get to my favorite writing place despite the snow mountain range formerly known as crosswalks. Then two guys stand next to the table behind me and start a conversation…well, actually one of them delivers a monologue (20 minutes and counting), about how painful it is to be an artist.* The gist is, nobody values or helps artists. No, young man. NOBODY WANTS TO HELP YOU. YOU ARE ANNOYING.

*I am tempting to show him the meaning of pain



I’m latte and cookie-deprived, can’t dig my car out, and I’m too uninspired to do anything more than to decide whether my chapters need to be shorter or longer.* I have sold my soul to Netflix. Good thing I don’t own an xbox or I would have succumbed to controller-induced psychosis.

This is what thirty inches of snow can do to an otherwise sane person. Also to me.

*The answer is both of the above.

Sort of famous people I have sort of had coffee with*


I was waiting for a friend  in the Cafe Edison in Manhattan when Louis Guss (Raymond Cappomaggi in Moonstruck) asked if he could join me until his friends (three other old actors) showed up. We had a great conversation, mostly about his son who was moving to DC and was looking for the right synagogue to join. My friend showed up. His friends showed up. End of conversation.

He is no longer with us. Neither is the Cafe Edison. Sigh.


*Do not nag me about my ending a sentence with a preposition. Everybody does, ok?

Ex Machina


No, not the movie. I’m referring to a giant version of the thingy* the dentist uses to tap down fillings, which is hard at work right outside my office (formerly known as my dining room). If you need me,** you can find me at Bump ‘n Grind sipping a latte and writing.

*Technical term meaning ,”I have know idea what they call this.”

**If you don’t need me, I’ll be there anyway.