I’ve got 21 days to write this script before it’s due and the whole deal explodes like an Icelandic volcano. Twenty one days.

She must be daft to think I can write this movie and have it ready three weeks from yesterday, especially when all I’ve got is a title and a vague idea. The title, ALL THE BOYS WERE NAKED, is good enough for marketing purposes but doesn’t mean a damn thing. It sorta sounds like porn, though no respectable porn film would use such a tacky title. If the boys were singing it would be a rompy stage show and a deadly boring film. Note to self: No fucking singing.

 The vague story idea has something to do with mid life crisis. That’s it. No wait, there’s more: Mid life crisis in men, gay men. There we go. That’s the movie.

 Jesus, I need some ice cream.

 The sun must be setting because the tree outside the bathroom window is no longer glowing, and instead of the city beaming into our apartment, my light here on the kitchen table-slash-desk is exposing me to passersby across the street.

 Now would be a good time to put on some pants. Or close the blinds. And get some ice cream while I’m up.

 Dusty wants a comedy. Chris liked the idea of near naked guys hanging around a swimming pool, really buff hunky nearly naked guys. We’re filming in Texas. Where am I gonna get that? Not my problem now: I’ll write it anyway and see what happens.

 A comedy. Maybe something about a guy who’s a total fuck up who winds up doing the right thing. I should watch ARTHUR. Haven’t seen that movie in five decades. Oooh, and it’s streaming on Netflix. I love this.

Well, actually I don’t love this because they stream my movies and gave me a ceramic pig full of pennies to pay for it. How many people have streamed my movies for basically free? Wow. Over 21, 700 people rated my first movie. I didn’t sell them that many dvds that’s for sure. And the overall consensus is half of them love it and half of them hate it. They’re saying it’s a feel good, romantic, campy movie.

 Campy? Yeah, that’s what I was going for.

But they watched it all the same so I’ll shut up. What if I could get 21,000 people to actually buy a movie? I’d be out of debt for possibly the first time in my life. What must that be like? I’d probably still be here and eating soup out of the can because I still wouldn’t have the money for anything else.

 For the first time in my life I have a benefactor. A boyfriend benefactor. This is better than a friend with benefits. Mark’s got a good job, which he doesn’t really like, but he ain’t quitting anytime soon so I’m gonna let him work, work, work while I do the same. The only difference is they pay him on the 15^th and last of the month, and they pay me whenever the heavens are in cosmic alliance.

 I told him last night, look, you want me to move here, you’re gonna have to support me for a while. I’ve got a house in Texas. I have friends in Texas. I could live in Texas and find a way to support myself there. I’m not moving to New York City to give up filmmaking by signing up for a forty hour a week job. I’ll audition for TV shows and stuff and it’ll happen when it happens. I mean, come on, I have four feature films in distribution. At some point the astral plane has got to tip in my financial favor.

And the apartment is comfortable enough. Small, but I don’t mind. I carved out a space on the tiny kitchen table for my laptop and have a rolling cart next to me with office supplies. In front of me is the short hallway that doubles as a kitchen and four feet beyond is the cozy bathroom with the astonishing penthouse view of a maple tree.

 This is the second floor, after all.

 Underneath my feet is a store front that babysits dogs while their owners schlep into Manhattan to pay for dog babysitting. Doggy Day Care. In Texas we lock them up in the backyard and hope they don’t dig out the fence before we get home at night. In New York they lounge in a climate controlled nursery with squeaky toys, drink filtered water, and persevere through Oralia’s enthusiastic adulations of puppy praise. Isn’t he a good boy. Yes, he is. Yes, he is.

 Ruff life.

 Enough for the day. I’m going to bed. Tomorrow I’ll get started on this script and will just work twice as hard to keep on schedule.