Dear Strain of Gaiety (or My Blog),

I write to you today from the Pasadena Central Library. I had stopped by here to get a little writing done after going into the office for a meeting. Actually, the office was having free food for lunch and I drove in to glom. But now that I am sitting here, and too tired to concentrate. Too hungover, I meant to say.

I feel some guilt that I bothered to come to this hallowed place of knowledge and public access hoping to be productive and I ended up checking my Facebook, tweeting and staring off into space. It’s what everyone else here is also doing.

To my left is a man on his laptop. He has facial hair like a Klingon, the physique of a 1970s racquetball enthusiast and the dress sense of a roadie. His laptop looks like it was selected thoughtfully through the jagged hole of a looted pawn shop window.

To the right of me is a motorized wheelchair on the bottom, a muumuu on the top and, in the middle, a large blonde woman with a tendency to talk to herself in strings of acknowledging phrases. Like, “Okay. Let’s see here. That’s done. Now… Okay.”

I saw a high school girl check out no less than five hardcover books on Ancient Rome and I thought, “Who are you kidding, Daisy?” No way’s she’s reading even one of those books. I don’t care what kind of report she has to do. This is California, dammit. America! No one here does that much reading for anything. Who does she think she is? A. J. P. Taylor?

As for my aforementioned screenplay, I’m further behind than I would like, but I’m happy with how it’s going. I don’t feel in danger of quitting. Some of my friends have seemingly dropped out and decided to avoid replying to emails due to shame. Oh well. I don’t blame them. That’s usually me. Hell — that’s STILL me. Here I am, dicking around, stalling in my blog instead of figuring out what comes next. If I don’t figure out what happens at the ol’ silver mine or what the boy and girl say to each other when they meet, the story flops to a wet, sticky halt right here.

Truth be told, I’d like to waste more time browsing this library. Maybe reference books for my story. I think they have CDs on the top floor. I don’t think I have the time. I’m parked at a two hour meter outside. Puts a real crimp in my scholarship.