Too many ideas, so little time

Re-reading Marshall McLuhan and looking at anything I can get my hands on about Edward Snowden and privacy to develop a play (or something) about how our technologies force us to reveal so much, but to our detriment. Or is it so?

And these two guys... they're so in their heads. Feelings buried in electrodes or between the spines of books. Nothin' wrong with that, just... thoughts don't inspire the way vulnerability does.

Should there be a follow-up to The Forty Watt Flowers about an all-woman band (in their fifties) called The Faculty Wives? It would be about how we, as women, give in too much. Sacrifice too much for our own good. About living the life you want to lead and screw what everyone thinks.

Change can't happen unless you make it happen. And there's nothing wrong with women who like sex.

(But maybe that should be kept private ;-) )