(I found this sitting in my drafts folder on my blog. I don't know if I just never got around to posting it, or if I had a reason not to give the "answers", insisting the audience provide their own. Seeing that the show was performed two years ago next month, maybe it's time to reveal the machinery behind the curtain...)

Orignally written in November, 2005, after Balé Techlorico's performance of "Cry Don't Cry."

I need to die. Not literally, but I need to die, and be reborn. Because right now I'm (figuratively) on the sick bed, lamenting my fate and being miserable, and that doesn't help anyone, least of all myself.

Bear with me and the California New-Ageyness of this all, but I'm definitely creatively stuck at the moment. I can see the path ahead that I've intentionally carved for myself. It has changed direction several times over the years, and I've continually pushed further and further off the well-trodden one into more exciting, and harder to hew, territory. And I've always aimed for the peaks - maybe not the highest of the lot, since the sharpening focus of my reality-based binoculars has guided me to nearer, less-ambitious peaks rather than the further ones draped in clouds of prestige, privilege, connections, great compromise and yes, I grudgingly admit, real talent and drive that perhaps I do not ultimately have.

But even in this revised journey, I've physically exhausted myself.