Bed, head

First post from phone

Hey! Ain't technology grand?
I've missed you blog.
I've been remiss and neglectful and a bit of a turd and I hope you'll
let me make it up to u.
You know I love u, right?
Come on. Give us a smile.
Come on...
What's that?
I'm like a puppydog u can't stay mad at?
Aw...that's sweet of u to say, but...
that was a simile and I asked for a SMILE.
Show me how a blog smiles now... U can do it. I believe in u.

Damn. Just realized I can't attach pics from the phone. If I want to
send them, I have to choose the pic 1st.

Oh, bother...

MarkERosenthal

Strindberg helium

Strindberg helium

I love Strindberg and Helium and I don't care who knows it.

Go there.
Watch it.
Even if you've seen it already.

It frightens and amuses me how much these cartoons reflect the discussions inside my head.
I am Strindberg.
I am Helium.
Who are you?
Are you Strindberg and Helium, too?
Then there's a pair of us, don't tell!
They'll medicate us all to hell.

A blast from the recent past

Probably not the best line with which to begin when you visit the Office of Disability Services to ask for a favor:

"So, I have a question but I don't have a physical disability. Unless you consider brain problems to be physical."

Louisville: It's not just for Sluggers anymore.

Yesterday, after several attempts, I got halfway through reading my play (the one I'm hoping to ready for my application to The Public Theater's inaugural Emerging Writer's Group).
It was awful. I was awful. How could I have thought this was ready? Despair came in without knocking, ordered a bunch of Chinese food, and didn't stop eating until it was all gone and I felt as bad physically as I did emotionally. I would have shaken my fist at Despair but I was inexplicably sluggish and too sweaty for that much exercise.

(You know where the story is going, don't you? You've known all along, yes? Is there no mystery left in the world?)

I called several people yesterday, trying to get them to tell me how good I am and why I shouldn't give up writing. Was not convinced.
Then I watched an episode of Life is Worth Living from 1953, discovering the fascinating Bishop Fulton J. Sheen.
He was like the love child of Liberace and Red Skelton. The act worked. I laughed and thought about my eternal soul. (or was it the other way around?)
I watched the tube until I was too tired to hate my play, then I fell asleep.

Today I received a letter from Actor's Theatre of Louisville. It was the thickness of one sheet of paper. I continued to breathe while I prepared myself for the rejection.
it began:

Dear Mark,
Thanks for your patience while waiting to hear from us regarding your submission to the 2007 National 10-Minute Play Contest. ("You're welcome" I muttered) This year we received over 1,200 entries (Okay, here we go...the submissions were exciting but they're sorry mine was not selected as one of the finalists...)
and your play, A Morning After, has been selected as one of the finalists for the 2007 Heideman Award.

I screamed. I swear to you as God is my witness, I jumped up and down in that empty house and I screamed and laughed and said "OMYGOD!" so many times and so quickly that it sounded like I was speaking in tongues. Dizzy with joy, I tell ya.
It was a great moment.

Then I called almost everyone I know.
I will call more people tomorrow.
(Yes, I already posted about it on my Facebook. Was that tacky?)

I just want to savor this moment.
And when I forget, I want to read this and remember.
It's a stepping stone of encouragement in the river of doubt, despair and uncertainty.

Ah, yes. Life IS worth living.
Touche, Bishop Sheen, touche.

(takes a deep breath, visualizes more stepping stones, exhales.)