My father has been bed-bound since the start of the decade. A stroke in 2006, has incapacitated him. At the start of 2018, he was put on hospice. My mom and I have gotten to know the hospice nurse KD. She stops by the house a few times a week. The extra hand is helpful when my mom has to run errands, but it's also nice that she has someone to talk to about this...whatever this is...this slow dying of a man we all loved.
In 2018 I was able to complete another meditation retreat. I planned on doing a fourth retreat in the spring/summer of 2019, but then Evil happened. The Kings had a pilot in development. Their exec asked me if I would be interested in reading it. When I heard it was horror, I was less than thrilled. I don't know the genre that well and gore and blood splatter doesn't interest me. But EVIL was much more than that. The writing and characters were so crisply drawn, the philosophical debate so clearly rendered in dramatic terms. It reminded me of all my failings in trying to write my epic play A COLLECTION OF MIRACLES. Where COLLECTION veered off into sermons and lectures, EVIL keeps itself going with muscular storytelling. I was definitely interested and the only thing I had scheduled was the fourth season of THE GOOD FIGHT. There was an outside call made about the Apple Series adaption of PACHINKO, but I didn't think I had a good chance of getting a staff job on a Korean family drama.
EVIL started in June and ran right into THE GOOD FIGHT with some overlap. I lost my meditation period, but I gained a wealth of experience working in a new room. EVIL has been picked up for another season. If there's no WGA strike, I look forward to being back in the room.
At the start of 2019, I had several theatre commitments. FIRE SEASON world premiered at the Seattle Public Theatre, OBAMA-OLOGY was produced in Dallas/Ft. Worth and CONFESSIONS OF A COCAINE COWBOY also got a world-premiere at Miami New Drama in March. I signed on to write a Louis Armstrong musical and cranked out several drafts in my free pocket of time in between tv seasons. I got a commission for a Gullah history play and flew down to South Carolina to do some initial research, and received another commission for a musical, as well as a museum project.
I pitched two movies, saw them get the proverbial greenlight, and then saw them taken away or reconfigured as something else. I'm still pitching a few other projects.
On the relationship front, I returned to NYC in the summer of 2017 and decided to date again. Prior to that I was in a one-year relationship. The dating scene was intense, wild, some times fun, some times exasperating delicatessen of humanity. I had men who ignored me, dated me with disdain, passionately loved me, desired me, and everything in between. I met a guy and we dated for a month before he died accidentally or committed suicide...it was never made clear. After a tumultuous six months I decided to take a break from dating and go back to my celibacy vows. I redoubled my meditation efforts, went to NC for the premiere of my drama RUNNING ON FIRE, and kept a low profile for my 39th birthday. In the summer, a friend invited me to a reading at Jefferson Market Library in the West Village. We were going to see J. Julian Christopher's dramedy BUNDLE OF STICKS. Afterward, my friend . We talked and walked to the subway. At the 14th street and 6th avenue juncture, we all departed and went our separate ways and I thought 'I'll never see that guy again.' A few days later I posted my monthly list of playwriting opportunities on a Facebook page. The guy from the reading liked it and then friended me. We started talking and met up at Signature Theatre to discuss theatre. We ended up going out for dinner at Westbank Cafe, and keeping in contact. A few weeks later, on a Buddhist holiday, we started texting each other. And then I agreed to be in his reading. We started dating and -right before- I went into a month-long meditation retreat, we agreed...this is sort of, kind of...looks like it could be...a relationship.
When I got out of the retreat I visited my 'official boyfriend' in Chicago during a theatre conference. Then back in NYC, I started work on the third season of THE GOOD FIGHT and life continued on. After a year, we decided to do something rash: move in together. He didn't like traveling all the way from Harlem to visit me in Williamsburg and I didn't like his 5th floor walkup near Columbia (coincidentally in the same building that housed Barack Hussein Obama while he was a student.) We found a place only a few blocks from my old Williamsburg apartment and sealed the deal. I've been able to walk to work for the past 2 1/2 years, except now I'm 3 blocks closer to the office and about equidistant from the gym if I take another route. I've felt blessed these last 2 years. I'm in a healthy relationship and share a loving home, have a stable and fun career in writing theatre/tv/film, have retirement savings, healthcare, vacation money. Coming back to NYC means I've recommitted to my Buddhist fellowship and teacher, as well as going to more dharma talks. I walk to work and avoid traffic and the MTA 90% of time. And now I get to give back with a writers' group that started as 'advice around a coffee table' and has grown to over 100 people. The writers' group has been relocated to the Dramatists Guild and we meet once a month, pour over their work, and find ways to collaborate and help each other. And at the end of 2019, I still return home to Miami for the Louis Armstrong musical...and family...
At the end of 2019, my Dad was a shell of his former self. He is rail-thin, blind, unable to talk, unable to turn himself, brush his teeth, feed himself. He is completely reliant on my mom, KD, the morning nurse who comes by to bathe him and brush his teeth, the healthcare administrators who stop by the house for check-ups. And yet there is still a sliver of him...trapped within that body...some tiny spark of light that occasionally peers out from behind bewildered eyes. As he nears the end of his life, I hope he's not in pain. I was getting him John of God pills for the last several years and he appeared to be feeling better and more upbeat. But last year, John of God was arrested by Brazilian authorities...and that outlet vanished. Now it's just us, him, and time.
It is so surreal to think after starting this year focused on family, my dharma studies took off, my art flourished, my writing career started and grew...and I end up right back where I started in 2010...by my Dad's bedside, holding his hand.
In 2018 I was able to complete another meditation retreat. I planned on doing a fourth retreat in the spring/summer of 2019, but then Evil happened. The Kings had a pilot in development. Their exec asked me if I would be interested in reading it. When I heard it was horror, I was less than thrilled. I don't know the genre that well and gore and blood splatter doesn't interest me. But EVIL was much more than that. The writing and characters were so crisply drawn, the philosophical debate so clearly rendered in dramatic terms. It reminded me of all my failings in trying to write my epic play A COLLECTION OF MIRACLES. Where COLLECTION veered off into sermons and lectures, EVIL keeps itself going with muscular storytelling. I was definitely interested and the only thing I had scheduled was the fourth season of THE GOOD FIGHT. There was an outside call made about the Apple Series adaption of PACHINKO, but I didn't think I had a good chance of getting a staff job on a Korean family drama.
EVIL started in June and ran right into THE GOOD FIGHT with some overlap. I lost my meditation period, but I gained a wealth of experience working in a new room. EVIL has been picked up for another season. If there's no WGA strike, I look forward to being back in the room.
At the start of 2019, I had several theatre commitments. FIRE SEASON world premiered at the Seattle Public Theatre, OBAMA-OLOGY was produced in Dallas/Ft. Worth and CONFESSIONS OF A COCAINE COWBOY also got a world-premiere at Miami New Drama in March. I signed on to write a Louis Armstrong musical and cranked out several drafts in my free pocket of time in between tv seasons. I got a commission for a Gullah history play and flew down to South Carolina to do some initial research, and received another commission for a musical, as well as a museum project.
I pitched two movies, saw them get the proverbial greenlight, and then saw them taken away or reconfigured as something else. I'm still pitching a few other projects.
On the relationship front, I returned to NYC in the summer of 2017 and decided to date again. Prior to that I was in a one-year relationship. The dating scene was intense, wild, some times fun, some times exasperating delicatessen of humanity. I had men who ignored me, dated me with disdain, passionately loved me, desired me, and everything in between. I met a guy and we dated for a month before he died accidentally or committed suicide...it was never made clear. After a tumultuous six months I decided to take a break from dating and go back to my celibacy vows. I redoubled my meditation efforts, went to NC for the premiere of my drama RUNNING ON FIRE, and kept a low profile for my 39th birthday. In the summer, a friend invited me to a reading at Jefferson Market Library in the West Village. We were going to see J. Julian Christopher's dramedy BUNDLE OF STICKS. Afterward, my friend . We talked and walked to the subway. At the 14th street and 6th avenue juncture, we all departed and went our separate ways and I thought 'I'll never see that guy again.' A few days later I posted my monthly list of playwriting opportunities on a Facebook page. The guy from the reading liked it and then friended me. We started talking and met up at Signature Theatre to discuss theatre. We ended up going out for dinner at Westbank Cafe, and keeping in contact. A few weeks later, on a Buddhist holiday, we started texting each other. And then I agreed to be in his reading. We started dating and -right before- I went into a month-long meditation retreat, we agreed...this is sort of, kind of...looks like it could be...a relationship.
When I got out of the retreat I visited my 'official boyfriend' in Chicago during a theatre conference. Then back in NYC, I started work on the third season of THE GOOD FIGHT and life continued on. After a year, we decided to do something rash: move in together. He didn't like traveling all the way from Harlem to visit me in Williamsburg and I didn't like his 5th floor walkup near Columbia (coincidentally in the same building that housed Barack Hussein Obama while he was a student.) We found a place only a few blocks from my old Williamsburg apartment and sealed the deal. I've been able to walk to work for the past 2 1/2 years, except now I'm 3 blocks closer to the office and about equidistant from the gym if I take another route. I've felt blessed these last 2 years. I'm in a healthy relationship and share a loving home, have a stable and fun career in writing theatre/tv/film, have retirement savings, healthcare, vacation money. Coming back to NYC means I've recommitted to my Buddhist fellowship and teacher, as well as going to more dharma talks. I walk to work and avoid traffic and the MTA 90% of time. And now I get to give back with a writers' group that started as 'advice around a coffee table' and has grown to over 100 people. The writers' group has been relocated to the Dramatists Guild and we meet once a month, pour over their work, and find ways to collaborate and help each other. And at the end of 2019, I still return home to Miami for the Louis Armstrong musical...and family...
At the end of 2019, my Dad was a shell of his former self. He is rail-thin, blind, unable to talk, unable to turn himself, brush his teeth, feed himself. He is completely reliant on my mom, KD, the morning nurse who comes by to bathe him and brush his teeth, the healthcare administrators who stop by the house for check-ups. And yet there is still a sliver of him...trapped within that body...some tiny spark of light that occasionally peers out from behind bewildered eyes. As he nears the end of his life, I hope he's not in pain. I was getting him John of God pills for the last several years and he appeared to be feeling better and more upbeat. But last year, John of God was arrested by Brazilian authorities...and that outlet vanished. Now it's just us, him, and time.
It is so surreal to think after starting this year focused on family, my dharma studies took off, my art flourished, my writing career started and grew...and I end up right back where I started in 2010...by my Dad's bedside, holding his hand.
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