At All

Things were going so well.  A four-day weekend, thanks to the marvelous Martin "LK."  Trips to see several shows in which several co-soon-to-be-famous people were starring.  A call-back for a paying gig that just so happens to work perfectly into my schedule -- and into my artistic evolution.  A spot on national television.  And the momentum was only increasing.

Wednesday night, the Duke Men's Basketball team played an outstanding game in defeating North Carolina State.  Further, they announced that Kyrie Irving will be losing the cast on February 4.  (Who?  What?)

But back to me.  Everything was going my way . . . until . . .

This morning brought an iced-closed car door.  Followed by 45 minutes of traffic to travel two-and-a-half miles to AC1.  A twenty-minutes too late arrival. 

Afterward, a broken fuse.

Then a broken belt.  My britches almost fall off in front of a respected friend and co-worker. 

On the way home, someone decides it will be prudent to merge onto the J-Way regardless of the moving traffic.  All the way over to the left lane, no less.  I almost die.  Literally.

An empty refrigerator.

A leaky tub.

Then this:

"I'm afraid it's a pass. The writing just didn't grab me, at all, in these opening chapters, but I trust another agent thinks otherwise."

Read that carefully again.

"I'm afraid it's a pass. The writing just didn't grab me, at all, in these opening chapters, but I trust another agent thinks otherwise."

If you followed instructions, you have now read that shit three times.  Did you catch it?

There are those agents who politely pass on a work; those who wish you luck; those who sincerely hope, even if they don't like your work, that someone will; those who remember when they, too, were regular . . . and then there are those who unabashedly add "at all" to their emails for . . . no . . . apparent . . . reason.  Except to be mean. 

What should my response be? 

"I'm afraid I don't care.  There was no tact, at all, in this opening interaction, but I trust someone somewhere must love you."

I think back now to that same Duke game from last night.  In the midst of Duke's most enjoyable and (dare I say) inspiring performance, an announcer whom I respect very much crapped on the impending removal of Kyrie Irving's cast.  "It's nonsense," he said.  "That's just a projected date.  I think, him playing this year--that's just a pipe dream."

Love is in the air.

So a quick message to all the influential people who assuredly read my blog by now:

Our pipe dreams aren't hurting you.  So why you gotta treat them like your plumbing?