Everything is still like high school.
2.5 miles. Wuss, wuss, wuss.
Last night, after finishing The Concrete Blonde I picked up Three To Get Deadly, one of Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum novels. They're comic mysteries about a hapless bounty hunter--the books are pretty funny and make for a quick read. One thing I'd like to have a chat with Ms. Evanovich, however, is that her heroine is a self-described 5'7" and 125 pounds and keeps describing herself as "fat." Thwack!
As I sat in the living room reading, I heard a loud commotion out on our front porch.
Instant terror.
I turned on the front porch light but I didn't like being silhouetted in the door. I didn't hear anything else out there, but for the rest of the time I was reading I barely moved, convinced that now the home invasion was coming. I didn't hear anything the rest of the night, but I carried the phone with me wherever I went.
One of the strangest things that's happened while Darin's been out of town is that people have kept calling me, wanting to do things. This never happens. I can't emphasize that enough. I sometimes think I have some kind of social disease and people wish I'd go away already, because they never call me. Maybe I'm just boring.
Today I had two social engagements.
Before partying at all, I went to Kinko's to make some copies of my Rewrite Script to foist into various people's hands. I have to remember not to go to Kinko's--they charge 7 cents a page. This adds up when you're doing several hundred pages.
Then I went into Hughes and bought some corn on the cob for the BBQ. I had thought you could buy vegetable skewers already made, but no one I talked to in Hughes had a clue as to what I was talking about (and gave me looks to match).
From there I headed to Jesec's for the BBQ. Jesec is a guy I met on-line, primarily because a)he's another USC student doing film who b)hangs out at Wordplay. We exchanged some e-mail and he invited me to his BBQ. I got there first, of course, and wrapped up the corn in aluminum foil for the grill. We talked some and I gave him my script--what would a get-together of film people be without an exchange of scripts?
Then his other invitees, including other denizens of Wordplay, showed up. I like meeting other people from online for the most part; usually, they're pretty good people, and so it was with the Wordplayers. For human beings who had never met before, we got along pretty damn well.
One of them, however, was so obnoxious that I found myself walking the fine line between wanting to flee and wanting to say something so horribly rude that there would be no recovery from it. With someone this aggressive, self-aggrandizing, and self-centered, however, any biting comments would probably just bounce off--wouldn't even know who I meant.
The thing that bothered me the most about this person was the cynicism. I hate the cynicism-as-cool-veneer pose. This person hated everything--dating (I can see why: at first I thought, "Who'd ask you on a second date?" but I rapidly devolved to, "Who'd ever ask you out at all?"), the Industry, food, overpopulation (one more utterance of "There are too many people, we have to get rid of a few," and I was going to say, "You first")...anything.
And this person talked continuously about everything--I felt like saying, more than a few times, "Would you shut up so someone else can get a word in edgewise?"
Evidently, after I left, another Wordplayer there really started digging in with sarcastic comments. Too bad I missed that.
A bad attitude puts a pall over everything. Don't do it.
The major happening during the gathering was a car crash outside Jesec's apartment building. I was astounded at how everybody got up and ran out to gawk. Actually, that's not fair--one of the Wordplayers ran over to see if anyone was hurt, and Jesec called 911. But people just poured out of apartment buildings on either side of the street to look. To see if anyone was hurt. To check out if there was blood. (There wasn't.)
What bothered me the most were the anxious grins on people's faces as they ran toward the accident. What am I going to see? What will be there? It made me sick. Bone-crunching, car-destroying accidents as entertainment.
Despite having had a beer and two margaritas--my first alcohol in months--I felt okay enough to drive over the hill and attend the next party, another get-together of on-liners who gathered to meet Pooks. I might not have gone--sitting in the sun all afternoon had kind of done me in--but I wanted to give Pooks a copy of my script too.
I saw a couple of people I haven't seen in forever, so that was great. I didn't eat anything (having eaten an entire cow at Jesec's), but I drank some water and made the rounds and said hi to everyone. Then I went and got my script to give to Pooks.
INT. JERRY'S FAMOUS DELI - MAIN ROOM - NIGHT
MICHELE looks at the cover of the script.
MICHELE
You have to autograph it.
DIANE shrugs and takes out a pen. Across the cover
of the script she writes
TO MY BELOVED POOKS
DIANE
Michele checks out what Diane's written.
MICHELE
You have to add USC MFA.
Diane sighs dramatically and adds USC MFA. Then,
she draws an arrow pointing to the degree and adds
MICHELE TOLD ME TO WRITE THAT.
Michele takes the script from Diane and writes
I DID NOT! -- MICHELE
POOKS takes the script and looks at it.
POOKS
Oh, it's like a yearbook.
Pooks carries the script around the room, getting
everyone to sign it.
I don't know if Pooks will like (or even read) my script, but she will treasure that cover page, let me tell you.
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Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com