But anyway, yeah. Winter coming on makes me think of Ben Folds Five, or something. The piano notes in the beginning of Brick feel like Winter to me. Certain Neil Young songs do that to me, as well. I can almost feel the frost in my nose hearing them.

Feeling that weary, satisfied feeling from moving forward a good chunk, getting some hard work done. I remember when I used to come home and feel that entire-body exhaustion from roofing all day. I feel mostly emotionally weary right now. But I feel energized, too. I stop working because my mind stops being useful when it gets too tired, not because I want to stop working. I just want to get these guys to the final scene! I'm impatient! No, not really. Just sort of excited to feel it all building up.

Been up working since 05:00. It feels good, still. To be worn out, to have worked hard.

I was talking to Herm about how I map out some parts, but then stop pushing the thinking-out part, because there is a certain point I feel it would be pushing too hard. So I'll leave that part unknown, I'll leave that part for intuition and spontaneous invention. As I push forward and actualize the area that I already thought out broadly, tendrils of story continue to creep forward. You begin to piece together parts or motivations appear for ideas you already had and needed to justify. It's a magical part, I feel. The magical part. This knowledge that races ahead of your fingers is like a thaw, like veins of spring thaw that run, jagged and greening, across the blankets of snow, water tumbling. (Conversely, one could say it is also like a fast-moving freeze, a blanket of frost splinters that leap across the fabric of the earth, knifing into each other, sticking fibrous roots into each other, building horizontal castles of Winter into the soil.)

I now know how it will all end. (And how often can one say that?) I finally worked it out, or it worked itself out while I wasn't paying attention, who can say. But that feels good. I didn't stress too much, because of how antithetical to creative mobility I find stress, and also because this is hardly the first time I've been through the creative process before. I knew it would work out, and I knew how it would work out. I still had to wait to get there. I breathe a deep sigh,though. Now it's just writing it out, pacing it right, finding the how. And not much more, at that. I'm very close, now. (But I keep saying that, don't I?)

Man, am I tired. Time to veg for a bit. Pop some DVDs of Scrubs on, maybe. Dig some real writing. "The Classics," as they say.