Crispy Phoenix

Musings on life in LA while chasing a Hollywood writing career

Month: June, 2010

Open To All Flopportunities

I had dinner with a friend last night. Here’s a picture of it:

I’m out sick today. I got bloated from the salt. That calls for down time to write in cafes with the unemployed and seeing matinees.

I’m sitting in the most pretentious Starbuck’s in all of Dallas. It’s the one in the vapid West Village full of card-maxed 20-something ladies and $30,000 millionaire dudes a/k/a douchebags. I chose this one because I wanted to upset the norm by wearing Levi’s and white Keds and I’m going to see the one o’clock showing of Solitary Man.

Two women to my left are loudly engaged in an interview discussing the myriad of PR they’ve done for their sororities. It’s chock-full of upspeak and the word “like” and the girl interviewing doesn’t stand a chance.

I guess it sounds like an interesting job. They’ve discussed how you’re going to have suck up to some other bitches and how you can’t be opposed to getting coffee and dumping the trash. Sounds similar to what I’m destined for in LA.

Interviewing and looking for jobs sucks. This underlines a little of the panic I have about dumping my secure paycheck and moving away with no job lined up or anything. But on the other hand, the mass of opportunity, the possibility of failing, and being fully engaged in following where the day takes me is as exhilarating as anything Humbolt County has to offer.

Fear of the unknown was one of the topics over dinner and my friend offered this little story. Er well… not really a story as it is an inspirational tidbit.

Once upon a time there was a girl who moved to Los Angeles with no real goal except to live and work there. She got a job working for some company that allowed her an introduction to a very famous and spoiled star of the screen and local drug den. She became the princess’ personal assistant. Not only did she fetch coffee and dump trash, she was sent on a number of drug pick-up runs and traveled to Europe with the star only to get slapped in the face. The girl promptly quit and absconded with a smidgen of dignity back to the US.

The girl then acquired a personal assistant job with some real estate tycoon, followed by her present position with another person who is more famous for her workout routine than her acting (and she is good actress – I like her very much). The point here is that the girl was open to everything and ended up traveling around the globe, making a very decent wage, living in a nice apartment NOT in the valley, and accruing a variety of interesting stories, not to mention some serious tabloid shit.

I listen intently and we sit in silence for a moment and then the fear of NOT knowing where I’ll be tomorrow gives way to waves of excitement and I smile Cheshire Cat-like and embrace the euphoric feeling. I’m not accustomed to feeling like this without an aid of some sort. Feels good.

Meanwhile, back at Crackbucks, the interview ends and just to emphasize to the incorrectly-dressed-for-a-Dallas-PR-job young woman that she didn’t get the job, the manager woman shakes her hand then promptly sits back down to wait for her next appointment. I hope she didn’t want it too too badly. I really hope I’m totally fucking wrong and she gets the job and knocks them all off their thrones.

And I hope that as I near the day of departure that my rigid, goal-oriented self continues to fade so I’m open to new possibilities and stories and I’m not just living to pay student loans. Just don’t slap me.

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What this blog is…

A place for me to vent

A board to update friends and family and I guess a few bored strangers here and there about my numerous rejections for writing jobs. Doing it here saves me dozens of phone calls and email updates announcing my daily failures. Plus there’ll be pictures most likely of me in various parking lots with a sad clown look. Keep comin’ back! Yeah.

It is also a place for me to exercise the writing muscles. I don’t know where they are but I need to find them. And fast… I’m moving in 57 days!!! Yippeeeeeee!!!

Everybody says writers must write everyday so if I put it up on the internet and gain a few readers, I’ll feel the pressure to get something done every day. Maybe. Just because I’m having a dinner party doesn’t mean I’ll cook the food.

Okay. That probably doesn’t make sense. Anywho…

What this blog is not:

It is not for the faint at heart or the hypersensitive.

It is not for those offended by expletives. For crying out loud, they’re just fucking words.

It is not a place to find writing advice, know-hows, or how-tos. I don’t know how to write and I certainly don’t know how to tell you how to write but there is a plethora of people out there who know nothing about the world in general that would love to tell you how to write… for an unreasonable fee, that is.

Okay, so with all that said, take a look at this.

Like clockwork, this nasty cup shows up in the office kitchen every afternoon. It sits near the sink as though some type of washing-by-osmosis will occur. Sadly, this has been happening over the last eight or nine months. It just keeps coming back.

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Food for Script

Ugh! Finding out who your friends ARE NOT is always such a special treat. However painful, they can turn out to be fodder for the best damn script you ever wrote.

I informed a “friend” (say that word delicately) last night about my plans to resurrect my career in Hollywood in a couple of months and you’d have thought I said I was going to take up pushing crack to the preschool crowd.

“You’re gonna what? Beeee… a… writer?” She says this sentence like she just got a whiff of some seriously bad baby shit.

“Yes.”

Silence.

My affirmation was her cue to no longer take me seriously. Her silence was my acknowledgement that she’s a bitch of bionic proportions.

Don’t get me wrong… I never expected everyone to be onboard with my desire to return to LA, but I never cared about the haters until last night as I sat on the phone, openly judged by someone I once respected. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt.

Because it did.

A slap here, a hard pinch there.

And then her boredom exhibited via yawning and talking intently with her children while I divulged my dream to her felt not unlike being tossed down the hill altogether.

What I’m proud of is that I sat there listening and never once uttered a retort. Now, that doesn’t mean there weren’t a few choice expletives whizzing through the frontal cortex, but I never lost my cool. Her intent was to hurt me, to shut me down, and I could hear it in her voice, in her words…

fail, silly idea, hope you don’t…

all wrapped up in an overall cloak of disdain.

If you’re thinking of doing this thing that I’m doing… dropping everything, your life as you know it right now, and moving out west where youth is overrated but you continue to cling tightly to your own, and take up an artistic but potentially lucrative career such as writing like the other kajillion and fifty dreamers in LA, then expect to be discouraged. Not only in finding a job, but in rewiring your support network. Expect to be talked over, run over, even ridiculed.

Some people can’t handle it. They feel safe and smug in their boxes of complacency. They live behind a guise of friendship all the while eating guilt for breakfast. They pass judgment out of fear. Unfortunately, they are sometimes the people that are closest to you; the ones you respect, you love, you care for.

They are also the ones you envision yourself telling to fuck off when you walk up on stage to receive your award.

“I’d like to thank the Academy and also McFuckity Bitchness. If she wasn’t such a total dicklick, I never would have known how to develop such a mean and wretched villain. It’s just how you always acted, sweetheart. It’s all about you.”

You can punch up the jokes just enough for James Franco to laugh his gorgeous ass off and want to make out with you as he gives you your gold statuette and follows you offstage.

Don’t these people get it? You’re a writer! All their misdeeds are going to show up somewhere in your stories no matter how hard you try to avoid it.

And not to play it all poor sad clown… there are actually heaping loads of peeps standing in my favor. Hence the reason for the blog. You can all get your updates at the same time.

And too bad for the newbie villain-ess… She just lost the most awesome friend she’ll ever have.

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