God, I'm in the thick of it. I'm in the soup. Twenty-five pages into a new/old play that I'm trying to bang out quickly (ha!) and my characters are really getting to me. Especially the guy. He's me, under the skin, his terrible fear that he can't love, his narcissism just covering up all this crap. And deep down the seed the spark of life.

Not having to deserve love. That's what I think I'm writing about. i didn't know that when I started. I emailed the first 10 pages to my friend Ruth and she wrote back that she liked them--they were funny--but she didn't like either character very much, as a person.

But that's just it. Not having to be "good" to be loved. The nut of it.

Meanwhile, C and I had a beautiful weekend. Saw the new comedy Knocked Up (okay, but not as good as the 40 year-old Virgin.) Went out to brunch with friends of his and then to my friend Lauren Ari's Open Studio and saw all her amazing artwork. (Check her out at www.laurenari.com). I told her about Saying Kaddish getting produced in Detroit and her face transformed--there is no other way to say it--just glowed with pride and joy and kvelling, then broke open and burst into tears.

"I'm so happy for you!" she kept crying. "Oh my God, you've been at it so long, I'm so happy for you."

I was awed, stunned, humbled by her tears. This capacity to feel so much, for another person's good fortune. Her open-heartedness.