August 29th, 2007 by screenwriterguy
In Los Angeles there exists a division: “Industry” and “Not.”
Industry people tend to hang with their own sort, as do non-industry people, although the motivations of the two groups are different. The reason industry types want to meet other industry types is because they expect those people can help them somehow. And the reason the non-industry types want to meet other non-industry types is because they are sick of industry types looking for other people to help them somehow. So prevalent is this dichotomy that one can often find ads for roommates who are” clean, neat, responsible… no actors, writers, etc.”
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August 9th, 2007 by screenwriterguy
 Just experienced my first L.A. tremor. (My housemates said there was one a few weeks ago, but I didn’t feel it.)
This one was really minor, evidently a 4.5 centered 30 miles away. I’ve experienced much bigger, once in Las Vegas and once in Seattle. Still, there’s something really creepy about it every time, with the noise-like vibration much lower than regular sound, and the feeling of knowing there are things out there that are much, much more powerful than you.
May all my L.A. quakes be as manageable as tonight’s. |
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August 6th, 2007 by screenwriterguy
 Nothing is ever on time in L.A.
Nothing.
Ever.
I don’t mean the way theater always starts 5-10 minutes late, or the way sometimes your friend’s watch is running slow. We’re talking any time you try to get 3 or more people together, it’s guaranteed that one of those people will be at least a half an hour late.
The worst part is that it’s nobody’s fault. It’s L.A.’s fault. Traveling by car, it takes 45 minutes to get anywhere, even places that sometimes take 15 minutes. Beyond knowing that entering the 405 while its sunny will likely add an hour to your travels, there’s no real predicting when traffic might swell and engulf you. Sure, it’s mostly around rush hour, but then some times it happens at 1 p.m. for no reason. Or sometimes the whole town is empty (like during Sundance.) There’s no telling.
I wonder why we even have watches. Guessing is likely to be about as accurate.
I have always been the kind of person who was on time. Not early, just on time. But since I’ve moved here, I admit there have been a couple of times that I’ve been egregiously, egregiously late. I suspect, as well, that there are those who take advantage of the situation and show up late on a whim. If someone calls and tells you they’re late because traffic is bad, it’s more likely than not that they’re telling the truth.
Anyway, the whole thing makes it really hard to do what I’ve planned for later this afternoon. I’m trying to have coffee with people to join my online comedy group effort, for about an hour each, each hour. It’s doomed to fail. I’ve learned to bring a book. |
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July 11th, 2007 by screenwriterguy
I had a burrito for lunch today.
At the next table, two businessmen discussed their preferences in bottled water. One insisted that spring water contains too much sodium. They were having a sincere discussion about brands of WATER that are bad for you.
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May 2nd, 2007 by screenwriterguy
I went to the post office yesterday to drop off a writing contest entry. But this isn’t a post about the virtue, or lack thereof, of writing contests. The thing that really struck me was noticing how the counter was completely walled-off with bulletproof glass. Each window had an airlock-like structure in which a customer inserts mail, with the postal worker then opening a door on the other side.
Is my neighborhood really that unsafe? I was pretty sure that, living on the west side as I do, I was avoiding much of the crime component of L.A.
Sure, the liquor store near my last place had a big wall of bulletproof glass protecting the attendant. It had a lazy susan of thick acrylic through which people would exchange their candy bars and cash. And when it went up, I couldn’t help thinking maybe my neighborhood wasn’t as safe as I thought. But mostly, I just figured it for overkill, and most of the people who worked there laughed it off, too, happily moving about the store without feeling any need to hide in their industrial plastic sanctuary.
Of course, a liquor store is the kind of place one would expect such precautions. Conceivably, they get robbed more often than other establishments. I can’t assume that a post office is a risky enough place to work to justify the expense of all that armored windowing. Similarly, the drive-through window of the Jack in the Box on the way home from Hollywood the other day featured security on par with a bank.
I gotta figure such investment in “safety” comes primarily from the current, ridiculous culture of fear. I breathe easier knowing there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. In one year, eight months, eighteen days, someone else–ANYONE ELSE–will take office. Maybe then people will stress out less about selling people Jumbo Jacks, or stamps.
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