Julie Askins, a kind soul, wrote in and let me know that she had peeked in the back of the book Pandora's Clock and evidently the ending meant that the virus had mutated in the first victim into something harmless and he had died of a heart attack, but the flight attendant had caught the virus and it had mutated back into something awful and deadly, and now, of course, the passengers on the flight had spread far and wide and carried the virus everywhere.
This is, of course, silly.
But now I don't have to think about the ending any more. Thank you, Julie.
I did something today that I hadn't done to date at USC: I missed a class. On purpose.
I hadn't done my assignment today for class, the documentary. Not being ready in and of itself is not enough to get me to miss a class. I've gone to classes where I didn't have my assignment completed before -- for example, last Thursday I went to Nina's class even though I hadn't shot my Reality Bites scene yet. The reason I went is that I knew there was something I would learn in the class anyhow. As it turned out, not having it done caused not a breath of a problem, so everything turned out fine.
Oh dear, a check at Monday's entry shows me I've told you about this whole situation already.
Well, anyhow. I know this teacher; I know he's going to go ballistic when he realizes no one (or practically no one) has finished the assignment. He's going to yell and berate us and tell us we're not professional and being late is not an option when you actually work in the Industry. If any of us cared what he thought, we'd probably go to class and take it. But we don't.
On top of that, I don't learn a heck of a lot in his class anyway.
Anyhow, as of yesterday at 6pm, no more documentaries had been finished. I doubt anyone took advantage of the all-night editing suites either.
I suspect not many people went to today's class.
I went to Spring Creek instead. I got to read two screenplays -- one based on one of my all-time favorite novels, and it was a decent adaptation of it; the other one was vile dreck -- and only had to photocopy a couple of scripts.
I left there at 5:30 and headed to the Beverly Center district to meet Tiffany for dinner, chat, and writing. I'm writing this as I sit in the window seat at the Kings Road Cafe. Tiffany is editing a long and obtusely worded document, most probably a medical journal article. We discussed the viability of her going into underwater marine photography over her fellowship in neurology. (She's big on diving, and a guy who's an underwater cinematographer offered her a job.) I assume she isn't going to do it, but why the heck not -- probably more fulfilling than dealing with bureaucracy at the VA.
Okay, here's the real reason I didn't go to class today -- I overslept. Possibly because I kept myself up really late last night reading a scary book. Actually, it was an interesting book -- Forensic Case Histories or some such; how science helps solve crimes and catch criminals -- until I got to the part about Richard Ramirez, a.k.a. the Night Stalker.
And even that was okay, until I got to the line about how he would come in through open windows in apartments.
No, none of the descriptions of what he did or what any of the other psychotics did got to me -- it was the open window. I got very scared. I could not fall asleep. I got the PowerBook and played games until the wee hours. Why the hell do I keep reading that kind of stuff?
I remember my father asking me the same thing when I was little: "Why do you read those books if they scare you?" And they really scare me, not just send a chill down my back.
Celebrity alert: David Spade walked by the magazine stand outside the Kings Road Cafe and bought some magazines. Then he walked away.