My June Itinerary
I spent five days in Los Angeles at the Downtown Standard hotel, followed that up with two days in Encinitas, then hit Dayton, Ohio for four days.
Someone once asked Tim how a trip went; to paraphrase his answer: too much skateboarding, vodka, and dessert. Not enough yoga.
Highlights
(Among others): meeting "Inside the Actor's Studio's" James Lipton, asking him about his most difficult interviewees (Barbara Streisand, Robert De Niro), tripping out on LA ("Isn't that Hillary Duff?"), telling Anthony Michael Hall "That's a good look for you, buddy" in a dressing room, seeing a kid get choked to unconsciousness for $20 in a hotel bar, and watching two friends get car-jacked at a gas station.
(Don't sleep on Dayton! Thug life!)
Christ.
All I can say is it's good to be home and settled.
I've written my first play.
It's not actually a play. It's actually conversations to which I was privy that I then wrote down. I wish I could take credit, but reality is so much more unbelievable than anything I could think up.
Three Vignettes from the Downtown Los Angeles Standard Hotel
Out front of the hotel; a WOMAN behind a podium scans a sheaf of papers attached to a clipboard. A BEEFY BOUNCER, ear bud tucked in ear, holds a flashlight. A CUTE GIRL (early 20s) stands behind a velvet rope.
BEEFY BOUNCER: … so there it is, you're not on the list. Sorry about that.
CUTE GIRL: (Playing coquettishly with pearl necklace, head cocked.) There must be something I can do to get in … can we go somewhere to talk about this?
End scene.
Two faceless CLERKS stand behind the reception desk. A short-haired WASTED WOMAN droops on the bench in front of the desk.
WASTED WOMAN: (Into cell-phone) Baby, c'mon baby---don't say that baby, please, I love you. Just come get me. Baby! Please. Just come pick me up. Please pick me up.
(Slides off bench to floor.)
End scene.
Three SLICK DUDES ride the elevator to the ultra-exclusive roof-top bar.
DUDE 1: Did you hear that fucking bitch? All I said was hi, she was all, "Who the fuck are you?" What a skank.
DUDE 2: Did you hear what TJ said to that one bitch at the bar the other night? She gave him some attitude and he was like, "You're not that pretty and you're kind of thick, too, so why don't you fuck off with that fake Hollywood shit?"
(To DUDE 3) Dude you totally fucking gave it to her, man!
DUDE 3: (Eyes self in elevator mirror, adjusts hair.) Fuckin a.
Elevator doors open.
Curtain.
Why I Hate Rilke
Dense black obsidian verse that reflects all light.
Verse impenetrable to burrowing, chewing, digestion.
Best approached laterally, obliquely.
The lightning will strike in peripheral vision like a balled-fist haymaker in an unfamiliar alley.
In due time meaning detonates, but only in those parts of consciousness inaccessible during the light of day or under the microscope of logic.
