I would love to tell you, right at the top
here, yeah, next year for me will be exotic and strange. That it will be filled
with spaceships and travel and pussy. I would love to tell you that, but I believe
– I really and deeply believe – that this would be telling only a half-truth.
As you know – as anyone knows if they’ve met
me or if they’ve talked to me or if they’ve been around someone who has met me
or talked to me – mostly this year was about selling my television pilot. There
were meetings. Promises made. Rewrites and dead ends and promises broken.
I’ve worked and I’ve waited and I’ve been
quite patient while other shows – lesser shows – got green lit, got produced, got
premiered and then got cancelled less than six episodes in.
Five years of my life and I know how that
sounds. Everyone says I should quit! Real blood. Real sweat. Real tears… and
nothing but nothing to show.
But next year is the year.
Really.
Next year is really the year when Vagilante Justice comes to your t.v.
