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"Man is an experiment, the other animals are another experiment. Time will show whether they were worth the trouble."

-- The Creator in Mark Twain's Letters from the Earth

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I am trying to adapt sections of Letters from the Earth into a play. In the spirit of adaptation and respect, I am keeping Twain's original words wherever possible, converting narration to dialogue among the angels, and only occasionally inserting my own contributions (these are minor and few). I have seven pages so far, and will continue the project until I get bored or disillusioned with it, whichever comes first.

The play I wrote a few mornings ago is awful, absolutely dreadful. I read through it with my girlfriend and wanted to stop immediately.

It's amazing what makes sense when you first type it. The craziest thoughts, unrestrained, break like unbridled horses and stampede into unknown, inexplicable territory. There is no heat of inspiration that should not be allowed to cool.

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Facebook and Gmail both have ad services that scan the text on a given page for buzz words and then load a series of links that seem relevant. However cutting-edge the technology is (I can't imagine it's that advanced), the service can only gather as much information as is provided, in the form of text, on the page.

So how is it, I wonder, that right now, both Gmail and Facebook have loaded ads telling me to work out, get a six-pack, and discover the secret to getting ripped? Who told them I ate three large plates-full of Chinese food for lunch?

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I thought my girlfriend's roommate had gotten us tickets to see a show tonight, but in fact we're going in one week. So I don't know what I'll do tonight, except perhaps catch up on reading and writing. (Starting with this entry, then moving on to the adaptation, or what have you.)

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The Children's Theatre of Cincinnati has offered me my boss's job as touring coordinator of the division I am currently acting for, which basically means I'm going to be on the other side of the desk come June. I'll be running a large portion of the tour, as well as acting in the mainstage productions. And since the office job is part-time, I can get other work during the day; since the mainstage shows only occupy about four months of the year, I can get other work at night; and since I'll be on staff at TCTC, I'll get something I've never gotten from my job: Fully paid health care.

That's the job; that's the reason I'm staying in Cincinnati another year.