Reinvent

I know I won't have time to write in the morning.  I will be addressing the factory workers very early.  So now, before I drink too much (perhaps too late already) and before I go to bed, I'll post some inchoate missive.  It will, indeed, be ill-formed.

I am embarrassed by my lack of achievement at all times, but I am only embarrassed by my lack of talent occasionally.  And why?  I only come up against it on the rare occasion when I meet someone with it in abundance.  Achievement and talent are two very different things, but when you realize you lack both. . . that's difficult.

I half-remember a line in Woody Allen's film "Interiors" where the youngest of the sisters in a very talented and achieved family says, "But what of those of us who have all the feelings of the artist but none of the talent?"

Or something like that.

I am floundering right now, and I don't have time to right the ship.  I need, I know, to reinvent myself creatively.  But I can only say it.  I don't have time to do it.  And this, you know, is painful.

Perhaps this is the crisis of consciousness that is forced by my performance tomorrow.  And now that I've said it, I'm certain of it.  It will be fine.

Or it won't.

But here tonight, after sushi and Ichibans, and now after scotches and cat. . . .

What can go wrong?