it's kinda depressing. anybody read it? the writers of Collateral, Million $ Baby, Kinsey and how long (and how much of their own money) it took to get produced AFTER an excited studio interest..sigh...
I'm kinda depressed, but my favorite Dorothy Parker poem will cheer me up:
Resume by Dorothy Parker
Razors pain you Rivers are damp Acid stains you Drugs cause cramps Guns aren't lawful Nooses give Gas smells awful You might as well live
There, now I feel a bit better... I think the film noir is getting to me...all those frails with gams and no nylons and my roscoe always yammering kachow.
kachow.
the cat killed a mole and left its lower jaw and snout for us, arranged on the landing by the stairs to look as if the thing had sunk snout-deep into the carpet. But we know she does it because she loves us.
My husband is in Fresno.
Try And Catch Me starts in two hours. Pretty sure only Scorsese's print will be there, not the man himself...
There's something deeply annoying about a crowded, cold and moldy movie theatre in the middle of the night in San Francisco (the mold is not the theatre owner's fault. Gary couldn't get God herself to abate mold out here by the ocean. It's legendary). In Bakersfield, L.A., Colorado, London, Athens, Canberra, Sydney, Melbourne, Aukland, Fiji and Dortmund, people queue up and chat a bit, even to weird looking people like me, no attitude, no pressure, no pushing. But here in SF, there are so many ENTITLEMENT BEASTS who are just sure they are supposed to be in front of you on the freeway, at the supermarket, and in the movie theatre. And everybody working retail is just sure they aren't SUPPOSED to be working retail so why should they learn to be good at their job and it's too cold and we usually a get a break in the weather and get some sun but not this january and nobody in this town wants to know me..I could be writing screenplays in L.A. and get treated like this, plus I'd be warmer

So, I'm in line at the Borders in San Mateo for an open mike reading (they liked the mongolian pony story!), trying to buy a cup of tea, and this broad with badly dyed hair and lots of sun damage to her skin (how you can tell it's not L.A.: no face or boob surgery) says "I'm trying to be somewhere by 7, can I just buy this?" Like it's *my* problem she's running late? What the hell? So I say "sure, soon as I get my tea." and she doesn't know WHAT to do then but wait her turn, which was like 37.5 seconds longer because I bought a damn chamomile tea. NOBODY was at the counter when I got there. oi.
The worst thing is, like living in L.A. and suddenly finding yourself idly thinking "I NEED a BMW," the entitlement thing creeps into my own worldview. I find myself thinking at the backs of short people or those walking slower than 3.5 MPH along Market Street "why don't you just get out of the way?" and then I realize, to my horror, I am a pod person too.
Gotta go, the new kitty is dismantling my closet one hand towel at a time. I hope that's a hand towel and not another mole...
Mysti