'sall good. I'm particularly bitter today. I know a guy with a movie in development at Nickelodeon who has writing credits on a half dozen episodes of Sponge Bob. He lives up the fucking street. He's got the agent I don't, the connections I lack, the success that has eluded me and he's making about enough scratch to afford to live in the bargain-basement shithole I'm tucked into to save money while paying for the real house.

And here I am, writing another fuckin' spec screenplay.

Was talking to the other roommate yesterday. He interviewed for a promotion. Prolly gonna turn it down because it isn't enough for him to commute in from here (he works from home). College grad, nice kid.

I make nearly a factor of ten more than he does per hour.

I'm coming from a place of incredible privilege. Don't get me wrong - I worked hard for it. But I see the shithole that you have to live in to hardscrabble your way up in the creative side of the industry and it's just gobsmackingly repellant. I remain one of the more successful screenwriters I know, with two options and real ca$h money behind my writing, and my wife makes more in a month than I ever earned writing.

I make more in three weeks.