who dat? contest.
(yo stee. i know
dinosaur jr. front-man, j. mascis.
first correct answer:
step into left column's tricked-out hyundai, pretty ladies.
I guess it's a small price to pay for the extreme wonderfulness of this past Saturday night. The reason it kicked so much ass was the fact that I found something fun and exciting to do in LA! Holy crap. There is an outdoor theatre up in the hills here, and Beck was playing last weekend. Well, my friend who works in the park told me about a little clearing, reachable only via a tiny, treacherous trail, at the back of the theatre. During concerts, people climb up there and sit on logs/ledges/the ground in this sloped area and watch the concert. The stage is mostly a small blur of lights, obscured by trees and distance, but the sound is as good as if you were down in the seats.
So 2 friends and I packed a case of beer and smokes and found the trail with some trouble. We got there during the opening act so there were only 7 others there, and we got good, relatively comfortable seats, and watched and listened and sang along and drank beers and smoked and talked and watched as the 10 people became 70 and everyone was smoking weed and laughing and it was just a very very nice feeling of community (something you NEVER get in LA) and fun. The highlight for us was when Beck (who is an amazing live performer) was telling Right of the house to sing, then the Left... and then he went off on how the next section is special as when he was poor he used to "roll up with the Nissan crew" and watch from the trees and bushes, and then told us freeloaders waaaaay up in the back to sing. The 70 of us went crazy yelling along.
When the show finally ended we climbed out and rolled down the hills, yelling the Beck line, "I wanna get with you... and your sister" at passing cars. In the post-concert traffic we caused a girl to get arrested. She was driving next to us and we were yelling at her and she showed us a orange traffic cone she had just stolen... but a cop was standing on the curb 2 feet from her and he simply tapped her window and made her pull off onto a side street. Oops. We rolled down the Walk Of Fame on Hollywood Blvd., screaming and acting like idiots. Giddy, is what we were. We then went to the diviest dive and drank waaaay too much.
I had so much fun, I might even go watch Joni Mitchell next week. Well... maybe that's pushing it.
...This weekend I watched the Real World Reunion 2000. Very annoying, this show. What bugged me the most, aside from the horrible editing (no kidding), were the people. God, are those "kids" annoying. And then I remembered I'm doing recaps for Road Rules on mightybigtv when it starts this summer. Oh crap...
...So at the end of March I sent my 2 newest scripts to four agents who asked to read them. These are very good agents and I was excited. That was 6 weeks ago and I haven't heard a thing. Combined with the fact that I haven't produced much since them, I've been feeling kinda shitty about the screenwriting thing. Then I let a writer friend read my comedy, and he just emailed me back with comments. It began, "My general reaction was: wow. You are a helluva screenwriter." So I'm feeling a bit better. If only he could hire me.
At your mom's house...
I am a good man: I bought a vacuum cleaner this weekend. I am a bad man: I'm 28 and I just bought a vacuum cleaner.
This is funny...
...It's the "d-girl" diary in the "Inzider Info" section. Made me laugh.
...thank you guys very much for the nominations.
...A friend told me about a quote from Corey Feldman when he was interviewed years back. Talking about Corey Haim, he said, "He's like Buster to my Keaton."
ONE YEAR AGO TODAY: Opened a cabinet to get a lighter. A big bug frightened me. Went ahead and had the cigarette anyway.
Recollect me darling raise me to your lips. Two undernourished egos, four rotating hips. Hold on to me tightly I'm a sliding scale. Can't endure then you can inhale. Clearly. Out of body experience interferes and dreams of flying, I fit nearly. Surrounds me though I get lonely. Slowly. Moving up slowly. Inertia keeps. She's moving up slowly. Slowly. Moving up slowly. Inertia creeps. Moving up slowly. She comes. Moving up slowly. She comes. Moving up slowly. Inertia creeps. Moving up slowly. She comes. Moving up slowly. Moving up slowly... speaking of which. I move up slowly, but only when I'm trying to climb the stairs after a few too many martoonis with Sam Waterston, that lush.
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