Therapy
So, my roommate, Curt, and I are hanging out the
Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf at Beverly and Robertson before my therapy appointment
and this very old woman walks by. We watch her pass. It's gotta be fucking
hard to be old in a city like Los Angeles. So, it seems that a couple of dumb
fucking assholes from the City of Beverly Hills have laid a hose across the
sidewalk. A big hose. And so, we're watching this old woman walk toward the
corner and the next thing we know -- BAM! She's on the ground. Lands on her
face. So we run over and she's bleeding and fucked up. Tripped over the hose.
So some girl calls 911 and we get her ice and move an umbrella to shade her and
wait for the paramedics to arrive and then they do, so I leave to go to see my
shrink and in the car I call the City of Beverly Hills and yell at a couple of
people from the Department of Public Works and tell about the woman and the hose
and the ambulance. When I drove by later, the hose was
gone.
I go to therapy. The appointment
was early today. We spend most of the time talking again about Danielle and how
I'm feeling having not heard from her and I know it's irrational and that
there's absolutely no real reason to think I won't hear from her, but I'm still
afraid that I won't. And I tell my therapist that both Curt and my friend Drew
think I need to wait until at least the weekend before I try calling her and my
shrink says that's nice, but that this is really about me and what
I
want to do and I say I'd kinda like to call her. I mean, what if she lost my
number or something really stupid?
So,
I leave therapy and call Danielle and leave a message and go off to get ready
for my very important meeting with my big bad-ass feature agents at Broder.
About ten minutes before I have to go into the meeting...Danielle calls. We
talk for a few minutes. I tell her I was about to walk into a meeting and she
wants to let me go and so I tell her that, actually, I was hoping she'd call and
I would've even taken the call during the meeting -- I just would've had to call
her back. But then I have to get to my agents' office so she says to call her
tonight or tomorrow morning or something and I say okay and we hang up (and
these are silly details that no one else gives a shit about but it's my blog so
there!). So I'm feeling like I own the fucking world and I go into the agency
and I have my meeting and it lasts almost two hours and I pitch the shit out of
about eight ideas and I OWN THE FUCKING WORLD. And my agents are blown away!
Love what I've done. One of my agents, Justin, just sits there shaking his head
and saying, "Wow." They all have to read the outlines I left with them before
we decide on the next spec but we're off to a great start and we'll have a
conference call on monday and get down to it. I tell them that my mission in
life is to develop the idea for the rest of July and then spend August writing
and then we go sell the fucker in September and they're all on board and tell me
to have a great weekend and we'll
talk.
So, I leave and I'm soaring and I
have to leave for Vegas tomorrow and I feel amazing and the world is wonderful
and this is how I would like to feel ALL of the time. And I've got a huge grin
splashed across my face as I'm driving and Stevie Wonder is still singing and I
know I'm going to get to talk to Danielle again and it feels great and my agents
love my work and that feels great and right now life is just really fucking
great.
I take a little nap. I meet my
ex-wife and her boyfriend for dinner and a drink and then I head home and call
Danielle from the car and get her voicemail and leave a message saying to call
me later if she wants to -- I'll be up until midnight-ish. But I don't know if
she'll call that late, which is cool because I know we'll talk tomorrow at the
latest. So I get home and pop in "An Officer and a Gentleman" and start
watching it and the phone rings and it's her and so I go outside and we end up
having another great conversation for like 45 minutes and because I'm leaving
town for two days, we decide we'll talk again on Saturday and figure out some
kind of a plan.
So, basically, I get to
get up in the morning, grab a coffee, go to Vegas, win some cash and have a
great time, only to come home for another date with this totally fucking cool
girl.
And now it's officially late and
I'm beat (pitching at that level for two hours is exhausting) so I'm gonna
crash.
Tomorrow:
Two
guys, a rented SUV, a night in Vegas, a million dollar guitar and a trunk full
of illegal substances. What could possibly go
wrong?
But seriously, off to Vegas.
Details when I return.
Posted: Thu - July 15, 2004 at 12:25 AM