This morning I checked out the referrer log (the list of places that people have peeked in from) and noticed that quite a few of them had consulted a page named "HOMEPAGE.TXT.19961025.html" that was listed at different locations, many of them in Germany. When I checked, I discovered that The Paperwork had been mentioned in a Die Zeit article.
As of right now, I have no idea what this article says. I will let you know when I figure it out. Anybody got a German-to-English translator program on line?
Yesterday I woke up hellishly early -- 8 am on a Saturday -- and drove over to Venice to help Bernice out on her project for Production class. It was cold. Very cold and windy. The weathermen keep calling these winds "Santa Anas," although the Santa Ana wind blows in from the desert and these winds are coming off the ocean. I don't have a jacket in LA, okay? No one told me that the 97 degree temperatures (Fahrenheit) weren't going to last forever.
The project starred Bernice and a guy she'd found in the theatre department head shots file. Glenn was the cameraman and Bernice's cousin was the boom operator. I was the script girl/production assistant and did such things as wait for one of the actresses at the Venice Beach parking lot and drive her over to the location where we were shooting, by the canals. (We were supposed to film on the beach, but the wind was so bad no dialogue would have been heard.)
I felt sorry for the actress, because her total on-camera time was to jog by the lead actor and get an appreciative stare, and after she did that a couple of times Bernice said, "Thanks." I thought, She came all the way here for five seconds of work -- I hope she knew that before she came. I really hope she did.
After leaving the film crew -- Bernice and a few others were heading to an apartment in Montrose (?!?) to film the indoors scenes; both Glenn and I thought: Pass, we're not going 40 miles roundtrip to film that one scene -- I spent an hour or two in the Borders bookstore/cafe in Westwood, working on my outline for writing class and attempting to dodge the "no studying here on weekends" rule. Someone actually walked around and rousted everyone who had a book or notepad in front of them on the table. Annoying. I know they don't want students hogging the tables for hours without coughing up money for drinks, but still.
I went home and slept for a few hours. I got up, watched TV, talked on the phone with Glenn about the program and what the heck we're doing and why he likes older women so much, wrote a little bit (although I didn't write an entry here), and went to bed again after turning back most of the clocks.
There was a GSP Halloween party I could have gone to, except I didn't have a costume and the party was held at a place in Palms, which is on the westside and pretty much where we'd been filming that morning. I couldn't face another roundtrip drive to the Westside. So I was a Valley party pooper. I wonder if I should look for a place nominally on the Westside -- easier to reach parties, close enough to go to Burbank Airport rather than LAX.
This morning I discovered that the VCR, which has an automatic time-check feature, had reset its own clock to the proper time. Needless to say, I think that's the coolest thing ever. I can't have a flashing 12:00 even if I wanted one.
After this amazing technological discovery I ventured out, bought a Sunday paper, and treated myself to pancake at Du-Par's. They make a mean pancake at Du-Par's, but it's not the same doing the go-out-to-breakfast thing alone. I need to share pancakes and fight over sections with Darin to feel fulfilled. About Sunday breakfasts out, at any rate.
Today, now that I have completely sickened myself with a stomachfull of pancakes, I will write, outline, and study for tomorrow's midterm. I feel so relaxed this weekend, mostly because I don't have to get on a plane or drive up and down the coast.