Housing Works Bookshop & Cafe

Still in New York and trying to finish the first draft of a kid's movie before I get on the plane. Ideally, I have a shitty first draft to scribble all over and spill my gin and tonic and smudge my salty fingers on. I do not think this will be the case.
I was on a roll, almost done with it, then I remembered, "hey, wait a minute.... I tooootally forgot I hate myself!" And then stopped. These kid characters are way better than me, they deserve something better than this stupid story. It's either too simple, or too complex. No, it's never too simple; scratch that. It's too easy, I should say. Nothing is ever simple!!!

Delaney The Sister took me to her favorite place to write this morning. I was pumped, but then realized we were in a bookstore. I can't write in a bookstore!!! Even this super cool, altruistic one.
Every time I look up from the stupid blank page (yeah.... I write free hand... So retro... Jealous?) there are all these people I know. "Omg! Herman Hesse! Totally haven't seen you since I was like, 16 and deep into existentialism! This? Oh, this is just a screenplay I'm writing. For kids. You're right, there ISN'T meaning in life! I'll put this pen down this minute, pick you up, and spin in circles till I puke. Because why the F not!?! Dude, you so get me. Am I high?"
Coffee or no coffee, I can not write in bookstores.