edgar and i discuss a script.
There ought to be limits to freedom.
I have a great name for you: MONTANA!!! Stripper names are the best.
Bug's favorite game these days: Pokemom. Which I guess makes her a Pokemom trainer.
The other day, Darin said: "You know what the best part of the Pokemon craze is?"
"That it'll be over by the time Bug is 3?" I replied.
He nodded, cracking up. We both know there will be something else to take its place.
Salon has me wondering what Bug's last name should be. I was so proud we'd come up with her first name.
We had another childbirth class today, in which we practiced two more types of breathing. I told Darin, "You'd better remember all of this, because when I'm in labor I am not going to be thinking about this at all." The job of the labor coach: keep the mother-to-be from freaking out. We also watched another film, this time with three births in it, and once again I teared up at each one.
After class we had lunch at the Ocean Street Restaurant in Santa Monica, a fish restaurant. Relentlessly unmemorable, from the house speciality "lobster taquitos" to the clam chowder. And fairly expensive for food that uninteresting.
Today my friend Edgar, who has ideas on how to improve one of my scripts, came over to discuss it with me. We discussed his new position at Paramount and what we'd heard about what's going on in the Industry. I talked a little bit about the craziness going on in Northern California -- Edgar and I met at De Anza College in Cupertino, while taking film classes.
Then we spent about two hours going over the script, almost page by page. To Edgar's credit, he recognizes that it's a great script; it just needs some tweaking (she said, not at all modestly). He had good suggestions too, although I took most of them along the lines of "Something needs to be done here" rather than "This is how this scene should be fixed," partially because I take all criticism as a sign that there's something wrong, not necessarily as a pointer to the thing that's wrong. (Or, as Nick Kazan put it, use feedback as diagnostic evidence, not as a prescription for what to do.)
Edgar, of course, was not doing this out of the goodness of his heart; he's doing this because he wants to take it to a few production companies he knows of. You know the definition of a producer: "Someone who knows a writer."
Of course, I don't know when the hell I'm going to be able to do another rewrite of this script, but I'm thinking about it. However, having specific things to think about -- rather than a general "I really ought to do something about this" -- may be more of a spur to me these days.
I've done some thinking about Stee's rant about self-absorbed friends. I've thought the same things about people -- I've often wondered why I listen to them and they never listen to me, and why when I talk I can't get them to pay attention.
One example I've given countless times -- okay, just a few times, but always to therapists -- comes from high school: I had a friend who always came to me with her problems, which were legion, and I always listened. I never reciprocated because I was conditioned not to talk about my problems with anyone. One day I'd had a bad enough day that I needed to talk to my friend, so I called her up. And she didn't have time. Why? Because The Adventures of Robin Hood with Errol Flynn was on.
No, I never called again.
Stee also notes that no one cops to being the self-absorbed type. Well, of course not. Is anyone ever aware of being self-absorbed? You know the old joke, "Enough about what I think of me, what do you think of me?" Does anyone ever think, "I've really done nothing but talk about myself for the past forty-five minutes -- I should ask Sally how she's doing"? No, people just talk about what they're interested in, and what most people are interested in is themselves.
I've often thought I wouldn't mind being the center of attention all the time, like Dickie in The Talented Mr. Ripley. But I don't have the temperament to be self-involved that way. That is, overtly self-involved -- I have no illusions about exactly how self-centered I truly am. Which I think is part of wha's weirding me out about having a baby so much: I have to put another person's needs totally ahead of my own. Which is not a quality that's appreciated or cultivated in this culture.
The answer to Wednesday's question: Hedy Lamarr was the co-inventor of "spread spectrum" technology (with musician George Antheil). "Spread spectrum" technology is used in such arcane applications as the Milstar defense communications satellite system, wireless Internet transmission, and newer cell phone technology, but Lamarr and Antheil never received a dime for their invention because it wasn't used until after their patent expired. (Of course.) There have been many who've doubted Lamarr's contribution to the technology, because she didn't have the technical background, but Antheil has always insisted on her co-credit.
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Copyright 2000 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com