Is now posted at BrevityTV.

And no likelihood of sleep any time soon…  I’m loving the fact that I’m involved in BrevityTV.com right now.  I can pitch a ridiculously difficult idea to my friends, and they jump in and help me make it real.  My week:

Saturday night:  all-nighter completing the lyrics to a comedy song about Sarah Palin.  It’s essentially an open letter to John McCain saying it isn’t cool for him to have chosen her, and not really a “Country First” thing to do.

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Call them “skits.”

Alas, I must report the death of my Siamese fighting fish, Studebaker. Some of us remember Studebaker as the co-star of a little comedy short we shot back in May. Most of us just know him as a free spirit too stupid not to attack his own reflection.

It seems like only months ago that I entered the pet store. I knew that my heart was so overflowing with love that I was wiling to spend as much as $1.99 to share it. The kindly adoption agent in the blue apron explained my options: either a betta, likely to live several years, or a goldfish, unlikely to last more than a week. It was a strange dilemma. The cold, utilitarian producer inside me knew that opting to spend a quarter on a goldfish would mean coming in under budget. Plus, there was a certain virtue to disposable performers. However, in the end, my inner pet owner won out. My inner pet owner had been expecting, perhaps, more affection than the daily fin-flapping posture at meal times, communicating Studebaker’s tiny-brained desire, all said and done, to crush my gills and see my carcass float to the top of the bowl.

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For some reason, my My Name Is Earl spec has been giving me all kinds of problems.  It’s been the top priority for me, writing-wise, for weeks now, and I’m nowhere.  Haven’t been able to break the story.  This normally doesn’t happen to me.  Normally I get an idea, then I watch the show over and over (and over) and some day in the shower inspiration will hit.  This time around I had an idea, I’ve watched every episode at least three times, but no breakthroughs, though I am showering regularly.

It’s getting to be a problem, since I’m not reading Harry Potter 7 until I’m done, and all around me people seem to want to talk about the new book.  Today in a Jamba Juice, a couple came in, each with a copy in hand.  He had the dust-jacket marking his place several hundred pages in, and she was starting the first chapter as she waited for her smoothie.  People looking at me must have thought me a bit off, but when she turned to him and said, “You know, Harry seems to–” I had my fingers in my ears chanting “la la la” so fast…  Thank goodness for all the blender noise.

I’m not having problems with writing in general.  After Friday’s meeting of the comedy group’s writer core, from which we left with the homework to write a two-page sketch in the next week, I had my script written less than an hour after everyone left.  And a couple of weeks ago, a new collaborator friend up in the Bay Area (who I know subscribes to this blog via e-mail… Hi, Peggy!) asked for some spec commercial scripts I was able to knock out three decent ideas in one sitting.

It’s just Earl.

A smart man would go work on another project.  I have a smart romantic comedy feature with a high-concept pitch that a writing partner and I seem to keep as our perennial second priority.  Plus there’s a half-written feature that representation-types have said they want to see when it’s done.  But I want to write television, and I feel guilty when I spend time on features.  (Although I was thinking of going to Comic-Con this weekend to do research for the second one, but couldn’t work out the logistics until Saturday was already sold out.  If anyone has leads on tickets…)

A smart man might also pick a different show to spec.  Plus, I’m trying something with a high degree of difficulty.  A smart man might rethink his premise.

I, it would seem, am not a smart man.  Off to go “work” on my script some more.

I had Harry Potter tickets for last night, and was really looking forward to seeing film number five. Leading up to the release of a Harry Potter book, it has always been my tradition to re-read the preceding books, or at least the preceding several. This time around I opted to watch all the movies, and then I’ll read #6 and eventually #7 (but only after I finish my Earl spec…) It’s getting harder and harder to avoid Harry Potter headlines. I want to know NOTHING! I just logged out of my personalized google homepage, because every other entertainment news headline seems to want to spoil the ending for me. I guess I’ll spend the next month ignorant of happenings in the world. So be it.

Anyway, the tickets for last night were for the last IMAX screening of the evening. Huge screen, fewer kids. But when we got there, “technical difficulties” meant they had to refund everyone’s money. Sigh. One of the theater workers told us that the film was ruined. Like, I guess it all melted. On the plus side, my housemate and I got our money back plus free tickets to see it again later. And after all, I’m supposed to be writing, anyway.

In other news, things are moving along with the comedy group. Yesterday was the first meeting of the writing staff, and I’m pretty pleased. I spent a long, long time hand-picking a combination of people I thought would resonate together creatively, and it seems like that worked nicely. Any evening that includes comparisons of different Cohen Brothers movies and analysis of U.S. vs. U.K. versions of The Office tells me that I’m in the right room.

So I’m one step closer to global domination. Through comedy. Now I just need a name for the damned thing.

So I just left messages and sent e-mails telling people the results after the comedy group auditions on Sunday. Overall the event went well, and it was a super-tough decision because everyone was awesome. And I ain’t just saying that.

In the end, the writers decided to represent, and the actors decided to flake. Not all, of course. I’m not saying every actor in the world is a big flaky flake with flakes flaking off, but… well, you get it.

So I changed gears, and picked a writing staff, and it won’t be an actor-driven comedy troupe after all.  At least not at first I’ll explain that better once I know what it means myself, but I have preliminary plans, about which I’m feeling pretty good.