Red skies at night, sailors' delight

I was standing in the Miami Beach surf at sunset (I bailed on the party a little early). I do that a lot when I travel. I remember standing in the surf in Dubai just staring out into the horizon for, like, ever. The same in Barcelona, the same in Montauk, the same in any seaside town I go to. I love the beach and I do some of my best thinking (read: I have the most master-of-the-obvious revelations ever) when I'm in/around water.

So tonight I realized that all this desperately wanting to escape New York thing that I've been feeling for, oh, the last seven years isn't going to happen until I produce some good work. Because work is the most important thing in my life, at least right now, and even though in my fantasies, I could go live in a country house somewhere and write the best screenplay ever or the craft the beginnings of the most profound YA series in modern history, the fact is that I do my best work in New York. So I have to stay until whatever it is I'm meant to do/create comes out of me. Otherwise it never will. And, after I've birthed my, uh, masterpiece (read: and sell it), then I'll go.

But I'll always keep an apartment in the city. Just in case.