that's "reclining," not "telling fibs."
3 miles yesterday.
3.5 miles today.
It's all domestic. A little too domestic, if you ask me, but then again, you haven't.
A few days ago, I was at my favorite coffee place (Pane Dolce on Ventura Boulevard, for those of you keeping track, or just looking for a good coffee place), at a table writing, when I noticed a woman sitting at a nearby table and I thought, I know her, she's an actress. But I couldn't think of who she was.
A woman sitting with her started burbling about Kellie Martin--"You know, she's that new intern on ER, yadda yadda"--and the woman I recognized said, "Oh yes, I think I did a TV movie with her."
Aha, I thought. So she is an actress.
I was out wandering around, thinking about movies with strange twists at the end and I thought of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, the 1978 version. And I thought, That's it! The woman was Brooke Adams! (Mind you, this is just a demonstration of the movie database I call my brain: I haven't seen that Body Snatchers since it came out, and I'm hardly a devoted fan of Adams's work, but somehow I remember she was in it.)
So, with Darin's urging, I look up a joint search of Brooke Adams and Kellie Martin on the Internet Movie Database and find no projects in common. Whoops.
Cut to: My next screenplay is going to be a horror piece, so I went to the laser disc store to rent Rosemary's Baby and a film Aaron-from-writing-group recommended, Suspiria, which I've never seen but he thought might be useful to me. So I start Suspiria and the main character comes on-screen--
And it's her. It's the woman from the coffee shop.
Her name is Jessica Harper. I look up Jessica Harper in the IMDB and sure enough, she and Kellie Martin did a TV movie last year.
I'm going to be so embarrassed if it turns out Brooke Adams looks nothing like Jessica Harper.
I spent Friday afternoon watching Rosemary's Baby and Suspiria and making outlines for both of them. I started doing this in the Advanced Script Analysis class at USC--a short description about what the scene was about and any details we probably needed out of the scene. I use it as a tool to decipher how movies are woven together, how they build suspense or comedy or romance or whatever.
I'd heard Suspiria was completely terrifying, which probably helped when I finally convinced myself to watch it: I thought it was desperately silly, marked by a score primarily notable for its similarity to "Tubular Bells."
Rosemary's Baby is still great, though. Still a remarkably effective ending. Let's hope they don't remake this one--though they will. Someday.
Then I watched some television with Darin until 8pm, at which point it was time for me to return the laser discs and go to the party at Linda's house.
Jackie, one of our GSP compatriots, is returning to New Zealand, so she asked Linda if Linda would arrange a get-together for a class at her house (because all the parties are held at Linda's). I provided the alcohol--Darin and I had a huge supply of liquor taking up valuable closet space in our kitchen and neither of us drinks, for crying out loud--so I took the booze over to Linda's on Wednesday, when we had writing group.
Jackie invited a whole bunch of her Aussie and Kiwi friends in addition to GSP people, and Linda invited some of her friends as well. All of which meant that I was the first GSPer to arrive. (Hi there.) I'm not the most social person, but I did okay, saying a few things here and there and generally being less wallflowerish than I usually am. Probably because there were 10 people total there and it would have been really obvious if I were hiding in the potted plant.
Other GSPers did come. Aaron-of-writing-group arrived with his girlfriend, who's Second Year GSP this year. Brian and his wife showed up, as did Arden, Glenn, Greg, and John. I enjoyed talking to everyone, finding out what they'd been up to and what tales they had of our fellow students.
Glenn, when he walked in, looked at me and said, "I'd ask what you've been doing, but I already know." He reads this page.
The best thing that happened all evening was a long chat I got into with one of Jackie's friends, an Australian who attended the Peter Stark Producing Program--all the Aussies and Kiwis at USC hung out together; Jackie referred to them as "the Antipodean Fringe"--and now works at John Wells Entertainment. We had a great time talking away: he cracked me up, I cracked him up, things were going great.
He asked me how life's been treating me since graduating and I said it's been fine: I've been writing and travelling. And oh yes, I just got a manager. "Who?" he said. I told him my manager's name and he said, "Oh, of _______ Management? I deal with him all the time. He's a good guy."
He knows my manager! He likes my manager! I have a real, honest-to-goodness manager! Yay!
D.G., a friend of Linda's at the party, took a shine to me for some reason and thought I was very witty. At one point she called me over and said, "Say something elevating."
So I said, "Hi." (It was the best I could do on short notice.)
Today I went out to breakfast with Darin and Fernando at the Marmalade Cafe and then came home to play some full contact Seahaven Towers. I was on Game 33 or so when the phone rang. It was Max: she was at DuPar's, would I like to join her for breakfast? I told her I'd already had breakfast, but I'd come join her anyhow.
We ended up spending the whole afternoon together, mostly at her house, chatting away. I haven't seen much of Max over the past year--from the sounds of what she's been up to, she hasn't seen much of anyone over the past year--so it was fun to catch up with her and drink Diet Coke while lounging in comfy leather seats. She had to keep telling her Very Large Dogs not to maul me (I think they can sense easy prey, which is me all over), but they appear to have accepted the training at Obedience School and left me alone.
I'm pretty happy that I've been spending a lot of time recently, both in e-mail and in real time, with women friends. I feel as though I haven't had any close friends recently, certainly not since school ended.
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Copyright 1998 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com