Some nights of art are more prolific than others. I haven't yet figured out why that is. What's the magic button that lets me create things one night and then not another? There's no food I eat, no ritual in which I engage. It's completely fortuitous. I began last night by saying that I thought I had nothing in me. "Don't start with THAT again," said Ali. Maybe that was all I needed. Someone to make me stop saying "I can't."