Some of the best advice I got when I moved to New York was to take time off occasionally to simply be alone and quiet. The endless opportunities of the city are overwhelming, the pressure to achieve daunting, the moments of tranquility non-existent.
I’d been ignoring the wisdom of meditation until last week when I finally splattered across the windshield of opportunity and spent the past week curled up in a fetal position on the futon. I bailed the city on Thursday for an all day train ride, and slept most the rest of the week. This morning as sunrise lights up the skylight I’m starting to feel clear headed. But just to be safe, I’m about to go back to sleep.
Even in this week of meltdown I got a some things done. I’m now repped by a second talent agent (so now I have an agent sending me on auditions to TV commercials and another agent sending me on auditions for print ads). I received excellent marketing feedback for the next feature film (including title changes) and am now working with an executive producer on the project to help bring everything together. I was cast in a short film that lenses in June. I was hired to maintain a website a few hours a week. I was invited to participate in an Austin based anti-piracy internet campaign. I lowered the asking price on the farmhouse in Texas. (It’s down to $67,000. Make me an offer, folks. I gotta sell the homestead so I can get on with my life.) I scheduled a second screening of ABRUPT DECISION way up north, and brainstormed distribution ideas for that movie with the distributor.
And this was not a very productive week. It’s exhausting just to think about it all the same.
I’m taking my vitamins and heading to the bathtub with plans to snore till the water gets cold. Catch you later.
Oh, and for those of you rapturing today, it was great knowing you. On your way out, kindly forward $125,000 to Goliad Brain Computer Technology so we can make the next feature film in August.
Yes, it was while living in NYC that I learned there were times I needed to disconnect so I could recharge my batteries. Now, almost 20 years later, I still have to withdrawal and recharge, no matter where I am living. Sometimes it feels antisocial. Most of the time, it just seems like survival.