Smoked hookah today. Yeah, I guess you could say this quitting smoking journal isn't turning out exactly as planned.

I also put my name in the hat for a screenwriting competition organized by HBO. My pitch was about a time machine that magically transports people to various periods in Romanian history. Then it breaks down and leaves them there to fend for themselves.

I hope it doesn't suck. That's the most you can ask for, really.

Somebody once told me that when your favorite Beatle is Paul McCartney instead of John Lennon, that's how you know you're all grown up.

By those standards, and many others, I have failed.

But, as of today, I know what my next book will be about. And for once it won't be time-travel.