I spent a while last night with some bourbon and an old script.
Sitting on the blue and yellow covered couch, re-imagining and revising an idea from two years ago.
One that reminded of sunshine and old friends.
The people that were in my life when I was working on it.
Faces from Grand Rapids. Chicago. Traverse City.
Almost a feeling like remembering your last nights dream that escaped your thoughts with an early rise from the dead.
Like when you can still feel when someone squeezed your hand even after all this time.
It’s not the sort of script that is anywhere ready to set out into the world.
In fact, it’s currently in the stage where the characters are talking about drugs and swearing every other second, so I have to let it outgrow that part of it before I’ll even consider it as something worthy of any merit.
Even with all of that in mind, I’m glad to still be writing outside of the blog, it’s hard to feel invigorated for a project when you don’t see it going anywhere in the direct future. Especially with being in a quarantined.
Anyway.
It’s late.
I should let you get some rest.
.
.
.
Micah Mabey
