Wednesday, July 30, 2008

green with envy, not money

I am worked to the bone, AND apparently today was cheesecake day with extremely cheap cheesecake at The Cheesecake Factory and I MISSED IT, AND I could have gone to see a movie at Universal Studios for free (INCLUDING PARKING) but I couldn't because I worked instead.

I REALLY want to go to the Green Door some Tuesday night soon because I love jazz and my favorite actor is the guest DJ there for the time being. But I'm a poor girl and not a hot model, so it's not looking likely.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

my word


But isn't that the perfect word? It's as close as I am currently able to get to a source word for my literary endeavors and satisfactions.

my day

first earthquake.

dream job interview redacted.

Ziggy Marley.

life imitating art.

feel gutted.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

mimicry is the highest form of assholery

Now I've always thought Coldplay was a U2 ripoff. That's not to say I don't listen to Clocks and enjoy it like every other human being with ears, but I feel shame when I do. 'Cause it's a wicked knockoff. But Viva La Vida has probably turned me off anti-Coldplayism for good.

But I take umbrage at calling Radiohead and The Killers U2 copycats. They are quite distinctive, and The Killers don't sound a bit like U2. I think Radiohead's a bit too mutant brain as well. I was, however, listening to Echo and the Bunnymen the other day, specifically The Killing Moon, and for a moment, I was wondering when Bono recorded it. Sorry, Ian McCulloch. In any event, those two are much closer. That's my feeling anyhow.

And I guess there are worse things than mimicking the greatest band in the world.

What's your word?

I read this a few days ago and was underwhelmed by the choices. If you're a writer and you have to find one word to sum up the foundation of what it is you do and, as such, who you are, it should be a colossal word. Lethem's furniture is good, but it seems a bit of a tongue-in-cheek response. Olivia Rosenthal chose No, which I think is super because fiction cannot exist if the characters just go along for the ride. Someone at some point as to say or act no. Nelly Arcan picked disappointment, which also seems like a good one, as it too can be motivation for all action--disappointment in one's self, one's environment, in fate.

But so many would work. Search. Desire. Uncertainty. There must be one overriding word that could take their place. I'll be figuring it out. Let me know if you find it.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

British report

Spaced is really just fantastic. If you get BBCAmerica and have DVR, record it. If you don't, just buy it. It's so great. I'm gutted it only lasted two seasons. Great, great show. I still have 3 episodes left to watch and I'm dreading the end. Dreading!

Saw Brideshead Revisited the other night. Not having read the book, I was reminded a bit of Atonement, but I liked BR much better. For the first time I saw why my sister has a thing for Matthew Goode. He's quite charming and talented, a bit like Rupert Everett but with more sincerity. Despite being blonde in the upcoming Watchmen, I imagine he's going to give Mr. McAvoy a run for his money as the hottest young UK export.

Speaking of Watchmen, Dave Gibbons is a stone-cold fox.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Mary Louise Parker and her Watchmen

I don't know why no one's said anything about this, but it's been bothering me for awhile. I mean, here's a movie starring Mary Louise Parker's last two serious boyfriends, one of which is the father of her child, the other of which she was engaged to. I don't know how much time Jeffrey Dean Morgan (the Comedian) and Billy Crudup (Dr. Manhattan) spent together onset, but they're doing press conferences together. You would think the gossip mags would be all over this, looking for infighting or something.
Oh, wait. They're not girls. So, apparently, they can control themselves. Is that it? Sigh.

dream job drama

Hey all.

Weird week. Got a part-time job, which involves me being published on a regular basis, and I will link to it as soon as all the paperwork's done and my byline goes up. Good thing.

I also applied for a writers' assistant position on a show of which, due to my current job, I am an expert. We're talking frame-by-frame. More to the point, I feel like everything I've done since high school has been leading up to this mathematically improbable moment so that, when hired, I will kick ass at this position. This is, in all likelihood, my greatest shot at an "in". So I wrote a brilliant cover letter and sent it off. Didn't hear for several days (like most jobs I apply for) and then yesterday, incredibly, got a message from a writer on the show.

Didn't get the message till 3 hours later because, somehow, I must have turned my phone off or been in the bathroom when she called. The message said interviews would be for today, Friday, and "maybe next week." So I called back but we didn't make contact till this morning...

I knew I should get up early and take a shower so if and when she called, I wouldn't be in the bathroom, but I waited till around 9:00ish and, knowing how the world works, put my phone on the sink.

And of course, as soon as I started shampooing my hair, the phone rang. Panicking, I turned off the shower, got out, dried myself off as best I could, and answered the phone, breathless. Did I introduce myself when I answered? No. She asked if she had woken me. I said no, because she hadn't, and then lied to explain my breathlessness, saying I had just run to get the phone. I wasn't about to tell her that I was shivering and naked. Then I realized she could probably hear the fan, so I turned off the fan, which meant I had to turn off the light, and continued to talk, dripping on the phone, naked and in the dark.

She tried to explain how unglamorous the job was. I said I didn't care, that I understood that it was a learning experience, and was so in a panic, that I said "I don't have any experience in television," when what I meant was "I don't have any experience on a scripted show." She sounded a little strange, as if in response to my nervous, naked inability to speak coherently, but then said she'd give my resume back to the person who was coordinating interviews...

So somewhere in that I'm afraid I may have messed up, by sounding agitated on the phone, by not calling back early enough yesterday, by accidentally saying I had no experience in television, when I do, in fact, have a little. Why? Because I have not heard back yet. And in that first message those words are still ringing in my ears--"the interviews will be held Friday and MAYBE next week."

They may have already found someone. They may have changed their minds about me. Did I really get this close to have it all slip away?

Now tell me to chill because I am clearly a hypochondriac, and I'm sure it will be fine, and the person setting up interviews will call on Monday and I will have a fantastic interview and a job that is perfect for me in every way. But there's a huge chunk of me, the chunk that was once where hope resided until experience eroded the cliff and hope fell to the rocks below (my toes?), that thinks I blew it already, and if that's the case, well... DAMN IT.

Reading some good books. Edited the first fifth of my novel. Feeling okay about that. So, uh, yeah, that's nice.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

sammies and tartines

When your arse is broke, the best thing to do is eat sandwiches.
I kind of was done with it after eating lots of turkey sandwiches in high school, mock grilled cheese in college and grad school, and PB&J always. But I've been getting un poquito creative.

Tuna, you must understand, is a challenge for me. How much mayo is too much? How much is too little? Not until I had no mayo did I realize--none is fine! I've been toasting some whole grain white bread, spreading some white chunk tuna (canned in water) onto the bread, a slice of cheese (muenster or mozz or American--whatev) and nuke for 20 seconds. Then, and here's the kicker, you need something crunchy on top. I'd dig some sprouts, but as have none, used chow mein noodles. Yumsies.

I've also been doing the scrambled egg white on toast with ketchup sandwich thing as well.

Cracked pepper turkey when I have it. All goodness.

And always, PB&J for when I get desperate.

Monday, July 21, 2008


Oy, oy, God bless the wackadoodle Britcom (what I've decided to call British sitcoms).
Spaced was only on for a half-sec back at the end of the last millennium, and it's only just come out in the States, but apparently, it's got rep, and boy, is it weird and cool. There was a mini-marathon on BBC America I DVRed due to my Sunday employment (sorry, God). The marathon was on to commemorate the DVD release of Spaced stateside. Unfortunately, they didn't show the first six episodes, just a random six over the course of both short 7-ep seasons. The others I have found are airing throughout the week. I suppose I could just buy the DVD, but I'm dirt broke. I even had to end my 401k contribution. Sadness.

Anyhow, check out Spaced if you can. Much cooler than Coupling, which I only liked when Richard was on it, and much odder than The Office. Trippy even. And I quite like Simon Pegg and Jessica Hynes (with whom I can completely relate) in it, as well as yummy and surprisingly old Mark Heap. Take a look and tell me he doesn't look familiar. And yet, he's not in anything I've seen. I think it's because he looks like a blonde American actor whose name or resume I can't remember. When I do, I'll post their photos side by side so you can call me loony joony.

Sunday, July 20, 2008


One word. Amalfi.
Trying to get from the Palisades to Santa Monica and want to avoid PCH/Ocean Drive. It's all about Amalfi to Entrada to 7th. And, damn, them's some houses on that road.

Had dinner with sporting chums at R+D Kitchen, recently opened in Santa Monica. There's a red plastic elephant and good burgers. And the restrooms? Four individual stalls -- Man, Woman, Man, Woman -- pitch black like a camp loo, and three communal sinks all askew. Mad weird. But all the women in line for the ladies were very friendly and talkative. One woman congenially complained about the communal sinks making it impossible to apply her zit medication. Sharing is caring, I guess.

Then took my leave of good friends and walked down to--

Trudged through the whole thing, the part on Ocean, took the bridge over PCH to the beach (which scared the crap out of my height-phobic knees), walked far in the sand (great exercise) in my bare feet from the funny light installations to the north of the pier,

to the pier itself.
At the base, children played on what I think is a time capsule.

Then I walked up and down the pier, saw famous actors without makeup on, and then to the south side of the pier, where there were colored glow sticks in the sand and blinking blue butterflies,

and a structure with lights dancing on it to music,

and on my way back, this, which wasn't part of the craziness, I don't think,

and then back to Ocean, past a parade of people with lanterns (that may or may not have had fish on them)

and back to California and 7th, a million miles away, where I was parked.

The installations weren't all that awe-inspiring to those of us who have ever been to Disney World or the Tate Modern, but the sheer volume of people, from those who wore neon, light-flashing apparel for the hell of it, to the homeless, to the guy dressed all in black running fast somewhere, to the guards protecting the Kohler porta-potties from who knows, to the guy who loudly suggested that the people lined up for free Starbucks samples were there to be "deloused," to the guy who drunkenly grabbed at my crotch as I was walking towards the Promenade, it was THE PEOPLE were what made Glow kind of awesome.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Dark Horrible and Ass-Kicking Umbrellas

Screw Batman. Dr. Horrible's the dark one. I mean, sheesh, what a depressing ending.

From Lucy and Wired, something AWESOME.

Friday, July 18, 2008





almost 25 years of age and only today does tatterdemalion come into my life

my mind is officially blown


also, did you know merriam-webster does not know the origin of nitty-gritty? just thought i'd keep you updated on that one

also gung-ho, according to "comes from Mandarin Chinese gōnghé, "to work together," which was used as a motto by the Chinese Industrial Cooperative Society. Lieutenant Colonel Evans F. Carlson (1896-1947) borrowed the motto as a moniker for meetings in which problems were discussed and worked out; the motto caught on among his Marines (the famous "Carlson's Raiders"), who began calling themselves the "Gung Ho Battalion."

which, of course, raises the question, who names their son Evans?


Ain't just the Firefly guy.
I tried to be an adult and get a physical, but I was thwarted in about 9 different ways. Damn it all.

So you know the Emmy nods have been announced. People who've seen The Wire are irked it got snubbed for the billionth time, but I with the lack of HBO or Netflix in my world will have to be content to feel sad about the FNL and BBT snubs. Sad not surprised.

However, Bryan Cranston more than deserves his nod. More than. So that's great.

Am looking forward to third installment of Dr. Horrible tonight. Will probably go online around 9pm tonight Pacific Coast time.

Won some HBO first season DVDs. So that's what was in Sun Valley. Nice, but still annoying to have to go there twice.

Can't see The Dark Knight yet. Too dark for me and Heath Ledger's passing is still raw.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

dear brooklyn stranger,

thank you for sending me a 2 pound mystery package.
but no thank you for stipulating that i had to sign for it.
i work during the day.
hence, i have to go to sun valley, which might as well be on the sun, what with gas sucking the niblets from my mouth (seriously, 60% of my diet this week was peanut butter and celery, which may explain why my colon seized last night--TMI? tough) tomorrow during my day off. by that point, it may have already been sent back to you.
also, sun valley is scary, despite it's pretty shiny name.
so thank you, stranger, for whatever you sent me. i'm sure it's worth it and i'm going to be super grateful. but right now, i'm just kind of annoyed. next time, don't pay extra for the signing thing. it's just biting us in our respective butts.

captioned a Google lecture today. didn't understand half of it, but i have come up with great names for bands/horror films now.

am reading Maps & Legends. Chabon should get a MacArthur. man tears up the literary essay. tears. it. up. up!

going to get a physical tomorrow. am actually starving. which is good because my semi-sedentary lifestyle has made me a flabby marshmallow woman. over the holiday weekend, some kids with Hershey bars and graham crackers kept following me around, prodding me with sticks. i tried to explain that i wasn't filled with mallowy goodness but would taste more like pork should they roast me, but they were boys, and i don't think the pork, chocolate, graham cracker was as much of a turnoff as i had hoped.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

champion of the world!

Not guilty and getting my money back! Take that, LA MTA! Know what I'll be using my reimbursed $123 for? Huh? Do you?

Oh, right, paying for my auto registration. Sigh. Nefarious evildoers.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

feelings on Jeffrey's show, edited

So I saw the pilot again, today. And guess what? The offending "called your bluff" scene? Gone! As are a few other bits that did not offend, but whatever. Weirdly, there's still a line at the end that refers to the no longer present "called your bluff" scene. And I'm still not buying the idea that First Mystery is part of a large series of Connected Mysteries, nor do I have a lot of confidence in our main girl's ability to think critically, but in any event, there's a cool chase scene and it's more developed than other shows of its ilk, so maybe I'm wrong and it will blow up... Maybe.

Coolest thing ever?

I dare you to disagree.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Act One of Dr. Horrible is now up

And it's a joy.

why the New Yorker cartoon cover goes too far (by not going far enough)

Look, this is actually more complicated than the media shows. First, Wolf Blitzer and Chris Matthews and their lot are not helping themselves by implying that most people are stupid and won't get that the cover is satirical. They're not wrong. They're just not helping the Democratic cause by making us look like the snobs that we damn well are and ought to be after the crap we've endured the last 8 years from good-old-boy non-snobs.
But Wolf and his lot are to be excused for their latent reactions because the cartoon actually isn't explicitly cartoonish enough. It's too, forgive the phrase, New Yorker. Too, "Hi, I'm ironic. Figure me out." Because the object of satirization, the jerk-offs who encourage Obama is a secret terrorist spy, is missing from the cartoon, as is the extra and essential step of taking the rumors one step farther. Missing those, the cartoon doesn't quite come off, and that's what the people who are talking about this are somehow not noticing. I'm not saying it's not a good drawing, or that it doesn't incorporate the rumors well, or that it's not smart. It's just incomplete, and, as such, is sufficiently ambiguous in which side it's agreeing with that people who should know better are freaking out publicly. Shouldn't happen. Remnick should see that. But he doesn't.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

regarding Jeff's new fall show

I've seen the pilot, and I won't be uncouth or spoilery because I don't want to get fired, but I'd like to dispell some myths about Jeff's much-hyped show. Firstly, it's no more like that other big TV show with a plane in its pilot than Ugly Betty is similar to Seinfeld because they're both set in New York. The plane isn't really important, it just happens to be a major part of our lives.
Now, let's talk a bit about plot. So our main girl has a guy, and as soon as guy says those three little words, we know he's toast. Because he looks like toast and acts like toast and runs ahead of our main girl in a I want to become toast kind of way.
And we're pissed because we thought Jeffrey was better than that. Rest assured. He is. Toast isn't what you thought.
But... logic? How our main girl gets to her lead expert makes no sense. She types some words into a database and they're not uncommon six-syllable words either, and the only person to come up is mad professor guy who, suddenly, she tells her non-boss boss is the key to the mystery on the plane. Um, what? Since when is Googling detective work? But then she goes off and gets him and tada! She was right.
And then, as the main girl attempts to get what she needs from mad professor guy, she learns that pertinent mystery (which doesn't seem all that mysterious--it's basically a chemistry question) is something part of bigger, but later, when not-boss boss starts talking about "similar" events, um, the events are in no way similar (ravens and writing desks have more in common). They are not basic chemistry questions. They're like questions written in marbles.
So those are some logic leaps that don't really gel for me. Another is that our main girl at one point bluffs rather specifically and wildly to get someone to do something for her. It's absurd. It's like someone saying, "Look, if you don't do what I say, I'll call your grandmother and tell her what you did to her cat." OK, it's not quite that specific, but still, it's specific enough that later when she confesses it was all a bluff, you can't help but call B.S. because that's not logical behavior, even in extreme emotional circumstances, and particularly for a girl in the field she's in -- isn't all this coding nice and confusing?! :)
Anyhow, this thread sounds like it was written by someone who doesn't know anything about what a person in this main girl's field would say or do, but to be honest, all we know about our main girl is that she's willing to take any risk, no matter how stupid, but she couldn't tell her guy those three little words back. We know nothing else about her. The last pilot we got from Jeffrey with a major central female heroine did not have that problem.
Now the guy who our female bluff-threats, who is going to be the main guy for the show, is not the greatest actor (though neither is our main girl, who is pretty boring), and his character is a little too caricature (just because a person is a genius does not mean they know all languages on Earth), but at least we get a sense of his back story, and we're inclined to agree with him when he says, "This is insane." Because it is. It's like Wanted, but just in terms of silliness, not in terms of all the cool, sexy stuff.
Finally, last criticism (there are a lot of good things about this show, specifically the supporting cast, who do what they can) is of some of the dialogue. I'll take the most innocuous (in that it gives nothing away) bit here.
Our main guy: Now what do we do?
Lead expert guy: Now... we wait.

Are you kidding? That's not people talking. They talk like broad strokes of an idea of a two-dimensional drawing of people. Do I actually care about any of these people? Not particularly. The one person who won't be showing up in episode 2 will be kind of missed because that character had a lot of stuff going on.
But this is not going to be a show about character, I can tell you that right now.
It's going to be a procedural dressed up as a high-concept genre show from someone with a proven track record in TV.
I'm probably shooting my foot, but unless episode 2 is drastically different, I give it a season.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

marker M

It has reached that point where the people I've gone to school with are getting married. I'm only 24, but most of my peers are 25 and if people aren't engaged or married, they're talking about it. It's one of those markers that let you know you're in the county of Adulthood. You may not be in the capital city, but damn, if you're not under its power.

I didn't like being a child, I hated being a teenager, and I'm not loving being an adult. I don't like being responsible for myself any more than I liked being told what to do as a young person. I may have a powerful IQ and know history and understand cultural behavior as evolutionary byproduct, but I still make missteps, I still worry about money incessantly, and I'm still afraid of being alone and unsuccessful. Moreover, I don't really get people. But do I believe in true love and want to get married as much as any other girl brainwashed by a childhood crammed with fairy tales and Disney movies? Abso-friggin-lutely.

Now onto more biographical details: been editing my novel like a good person, came up with a great idea for a House spec, am reading more lately than I have been, had a grilled cheese sandwich on pain de mie at the Artisan Cheese Gallery in Studio City and found something called PB Loco, which is $8 peanut butter with funny additives that I would have probably purchased if not for my unending poverty, and...
I totally visited the set of 24 yesterday. Everyone I met was friendly and nice, and I was much more at ease than I was at the last set I visited. Interesting thing about television shows--and I believe it's true of film sets, as well, from what I hear from my roommate--there is no shortage of free food. If you work on a show or a film, you do not have to buy your own food. Ever. You can't turn a corner without having a bag of chips thrown at your head or stepping into a bowl of salad. It's crazy. Reason #842 to work on a television show. No need to grocery shop.

I think I'm gonna hold off on going to a Griffith Park star party for a few months until it cools down and gets darker a bit earlier.

Friday, July 11, 2008

last word about AusNTM

So I finally watched the AusNTM finale, which, I don't know why. The show's been rigged from the get-go, and no one gave a fig about models growing and becoming better. Everyone knew Demelza would win. She's gorgeous, sure, but she's young and self-absorbed and doesn't have a lot of variety. Alex, of course, was a poor runner-up compared to a few of the other models. In general, though, my problem is not with the show's eliminations, but with how snarky and cruel the judges were. I mean, no holding back. While Tyra might seem like a fake, ANTM tries to make something more of their models than pretty faces. They at least attempt to acknowledge that there are more important things in the world than mere beauty and knowing how to wear a dress or walk a runway. There's personality, there's the power of being in the public eye, there's grace and social responsibility. And none of the judges seemed to care about such a thing let alone show it. And, boy, did they say something terrible things to the girls, the kinds of things people had the decency to say behind your back in high school or write on your locker. Your locker, not mine.
In any event, I would never want to be on an Australian reality show. Theirs makes ours look positively enlightened by comparison.

the Aussie song I love and can't get on iTunes

Dont Hold Back - The Potbelleez

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

my need to be monied

This poverty thing is getting tiresome. I understand that it makes me more normal, makes me closer to the masses, but you know what? The masses suck. The masses liked Titanic. The masses made The Da Vinci Code one of the biggest bestsellers of all time. The masses try to get me to drink, when seriously, just stop already. It's not happening. You have better things to do with your time. Like watch those damn MTV reality shows.

So, um, people in charge? Hi. Nice to meet you. I'm the tall girl in the back with the hair that looks like maybe it'll attack you. I promise it won't. Just so's ya know, I'm cool with not being a mass anymore. I'll be whatever the opposite of a mass is. Ether? Brill. As long as being ether can pay my bills, get gas and food, and occasionally allow me to go home for a friend's wedding and/or go to San Diego for a weekend, I will do whatever you like, minus anything soul-raping.

why I'll probably never set a show in high school


Monday, July 7, 2008

photos from Newport Beach

courtesy my LG Chocolate (it's the red kind, which some might call cherry or raspberry or strawberry, but which I call scab)
This is the wall at Charlie's Chili, which is just across the beach from the pier. I had a burger, fries, and shake in honor of being a full-blooded American girl. And then I didn't eat anything else the rest of the day. It was good, but the burger was like McDonald's skimpy. Also, there were rolling brown-outs, which is always scary when you're eating out.

didn't predict that

These people live in my apartment building.
I'm not even kidding.

Sunday, July 6, 2008

burning woman

No, not a witch. Just me. (Now, let's be civil and not think unkind things about me, eh?)
I had sort of a Great Gatsby of the West Coast weekend, though not really. No hit-and-runs or anything. But the OC now, I think, really is the Hamptons of then. Though the Hamptons of now is still the Hamptons of then. I don't think people act carelessly and selfishly because they're rich or beautiful. Or at least, I don't think they think "I'm rich and beautiful, so I can pee on a woman's foot." I think they're drunk or high all the time and are very stupid anyways and don't think much. I don't think people in general think much, except of what they have to do to survive, and if they don't have to think about surviving, then they think about what would be nice to do. And if they can't think of anything nice to do, they think of what the thing to do would be, which is to get smashed or wasted and go to the beach and be awful. It's not deliberate malice. That's giving people credit. That's not to say they shouldn't be punished. I think it's just valuable to consider what it comes from. And it comes from people not having a passion for something and not knowing how to have fun while being fully in control of their faculties.

In any event, I followed suit, went to the beach, wore a hat to protect my burn-happy scalp, sunglasses, and put on sunscreen... everywhere around my hips, which was covered all the time, except when I was crouching to work on a sandcastle that kind of looked like an alien spaceship with udders. So in the middle of the night I woke up with this pain around the base of my spine, and holy crap, did I burn a ring around my rosy.

Saw Wall-E. Might it have usurped Monsters, Inc's place in my Pix-elated heart? Perhaps. I imagine it will be hard to outdo such a fine piece of storytelling and animation, but Pixar has a way of conceiving beyond our wildest imaginations. It's just amazing that Wall-E hasn't always existed. It felt like coming home (and yes, I know, there were a few moments of homage, but that's not what I'm talking about).

So Nadal, hmm?

Thursday, July 3, 2008


I don't know who I feel worse for:
Clement, for losing that epic 5-hour match,
Schuettler, for winning that match--and having to play Nadal tomorrow,
or me, for not being able to watch the Safin-Federer match tomorrow in all likelihood.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

the phenomenal Alice Russell and the fiddler who brought down the house

I've said before that I think Alice Russell is fantastic. Well, I just caught her act at the Hotel Cafe, and I take it back. Alice Russell is beyond fantastic, beyond off the hook, just beyond. It was the single best music performance I've ever seen (and I've seen Green Day and Ben Lee and Matchbox Twenty and Third Eye Blind and so on). And it wasn't just her. Her fiddler, Mike Simmonds, was the kind of good that makes you believe in things that aren't real. He just plays so brilliantly--I thought music like that was synthetic or something. Tonight was their last gig in the US, as far as I know, and I'm not sure they're coming back anytime soon, but if you live in Brighton, stalk these people. Or better yet, pay anything to go see them play. The Hotel Cafe was brilliant because it's so small and intimate, but I'd have given my right arm to see them from across a lake. I want to get married to someone rich just so I can hire them to play at my wedding. People would dance compulsively.
I tried to take video, but it didn't work too well. So go buy her music on iTunes. K?

Also, saw In the Valley of Elah. Before I saw Alice Russell, I would have probably expounded on its finer points. But compared to Alice Russell? Please. So Tommy Lee Jones is excellent, and Paul Haggis, as we all know, can make a hell of a movie. That's all I have to say about that.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

the question of the hour is...

Do I share too much?
I mean, I'm doing something fun tomorrow night, and I'm not telling you what it is.
And it's perfectly acceptable, I think, to vent one's frustrations into the e-ether. I'm not telling you everything. I'm just saying, grr, sometimes. Because we all feel the grr, right? Even super-successful people, by my standards, are frustrated.
Celebrities in particular, I'd imagine. And when they get angry, it's usually directed at a paparazzo who won't give them a moment of peace. At least here, on this silly little blog, I can't be sued for assault.
At least, I don't think so. Who knows what stupid laws LA has that I don't know about...
But in any event, I don't complain about my job, I don't complain about my lack of a love life, I don't complain about what amounts to intense nepotism in the field in which I work, and I don't complain that I deserve better. 'Cause what the hell do I know? Just because today I think I'm a great writer or that I would be possibly the world's best PA or writers' assistant, period, doesn't mean tomorrow I won't know better.
I don't brag too much (what's there to brag about?), but I do get excited about things sometimes, whether they're meeting someone cool or reading a great book or finding an out-of-the-way place, and I want to share or remind myself for later. Diaries don't last. This is just... better.
Speaking of great books, I'm reading No Country for Old Men. It just makes me appreciate the Coen brothers all the more. And what a casting job! I mean, spot on. Spot the hell on.
In summing up, I wish I had some kind of affirmative message to leave you with. I don't. Would you take two negative messages?
-- Woody Allen