A Whole Fucking Month??
So I finished with the MANTICORE rewrite about a
million years ago. So long ago, now, in fact, that the movie finishes
production this week or next over in Bulgaria. That film started shooting, I
went on a fabulous date with a girl I met at a friend's birthday party [NOTE: It
occurs to me that I totally forgot to mention (incidental detail as it may be)
that I broke up with that girl I'd been seeing -- the one who was really
understanding about my work needs -- the day after Memorial Day.], got myself
sick and still managed to crank out another treatment for the Sci-Fi/UFO people
through my cold medicine/fever-induced fog. Don't think they're approving that
treatment (Note to self: do not write treatments while under the influence of
cold medicine) but I'm meeting with them this Tuesday to go over new ideas. I
have a deal memo guaranteeing me another movie -- we just need to figure out
what that movie is so I can start writing and thus, start collecting cash! Oh,
and after nearly a month of stalling, I finally have about a half-dozen cool
ideas for my feature agents. Meeting with them on Wednesday. Hopefully they
will respond to one of these fuckers so I can go off and write it. If I get
started now, I could be ready with a new spec by Fall. Lost a summer and a
pitching season for TV, but may stand a chance at a deal if it's the RIGHT idea.
Yes?
So, I know no one reading this (is
anyone actually reading this? Does anyone even know this thing exists?) really
gives a shit -- but -- here's the thing. So, late in June (days after my last
posting actually), my housemate had a birthday party at this little neighborhood
bar we frequent a little too frequently and he invited a shitload of people --
and among them was this girl he had recently shot a PowerBar commercial with.
So I overhear her saying that she's from Tucson and, well, I'm from Tucson, so I
speak up and tell her this and so we get to talking. And then she says that she
went to Utterback Junior High School and I actually, also, went to Utterback
Junior High School -- even though we're talking about a century ago. So this
girl and I hit it off and talk all night and she's smart and funny (actually an
actress/comedian...or is that comedienne?) never mind a fucking GODDESS and so
we start playing around with my cell phone which is neat and tiny and has lots
of pretty colored lights on it (shiny...pretty...oooh....) and in the process I
manage to oh-so-subtly (yeah, uh, right) ask her for her phone number and she
gives it to me. Which is cool enough -- so I lean over later and -- having
learned that she is 'newly single' I ask her if she's too newly-single for me to
actually call her and she says, "I gave you my number...and you should also know
that it's the first number I've given out. That should tell you something."
So I'm not an idiot. I call her the
next day. We trade calls, finally get in touch, make plans to go out on an
actual proper date the following Monday. We talk again on Monday and I pick her
up at 7-ish. So we go out, see Fahrenheit 9/11 at the ArcLight in Hollywood and
then, after trying a handful of restaurants that don't quite fit the bill, we
end up at Jones for a late dinner and drinks. End up getting to the restaurant
at about 10:30 -- order drinks, order dinner, chat, chat and chat. Totally
hitting it off in a huge way (I think). So much so that, although the waitress
keeps coming over and apologizing to us, we don't actually realize that it takes
a full TWO HOURS for our dinner to show up. And we don't even care. Having a
great time. Just talking. I think there's a connection. God I hope so. So,
not only do we get along really well, have similar goals and a similar sense of
humor (although she is a lot funnier) but it turns out we're also
"Astrologically Compatible" (She's a Cancer, I'm a Scorpio). Dinner comes, we
pick at it, talk some more and finally at 1:45 in the morning, we're both
talking and yawning and apologizing because she certainly isn't boring me and
she says that I'm not boring her. She tells me the date's going really great
and God I hope it is. So we finally extricate ourselves from our red vinyl
booth as it closes in on 2 AM after a couple of drinkies each. I take her home
(thank God it's right around the corner), she tells me she's going out of town
in a day or so for a couple of weeks (which I actually already knew) and says
she'll call me when she gets back. We say goodnight. I go home. Wake up the
following morning with a raging fever and a deadline. I don't give a shit and I
can't get this girl out of my
mind.
Time passes, eventually my
illness, which I only half-jokingly think was West Nile, also passes. Sci-Fi
passes on my treatment and my usual Wednesday Therapy session rolls around. I
spend the entire hour talking about this girl. I can't stop thinking about her.
I've spent a sum total of 9 hours with her. I barely know her at all -- and I'm
just fucking stupified. I REALLY REALLY want to see her again. My Therapist
keeps asking me, "Don't you wanna talk about this meeting you have with your
agents? Are you nervous about pitching your ideas?" And I say, "No. All that
shit's completely under control. I'm really just fucked up about this girl who
I felt some kind of amazing connection with and hope to God it was mutual." So
we talk about the girl for an hour and I leave and I wait and I kill another
weekend and now it's late-ish on a Sunday night and she was supposed to get back
into town today or tonight and now the real waiting to see if she'll actually
call me again begins and I'm going out of my fucking skull and have completely
abandoned any type of punctuation! Phew.
And so, anyway, I'm sitting here
listening to Stevie Wonder's "I Believe When I Fall In Love" on constant loop on
iTunes and blogging in this fucking time-suck of a thing and hoping to jesus
she'll call me (begging, praying actually). And I don't know if she will call,
but God I want her to and if she doesn't I'll be fucking devastated. The ideas
for my agents are solid and they're ready. The meeting at UFO will go well and
I will hopefully book the next job in a week or so. I have to go to Vegas on
Thursday for the night but will be back late on
Friday...
God damn fucking hell shit.
I really hope she calls.
I should
stop drinking diet soda at this hour (I already tried to quit smoking this
week). I should go to bed. I really
shouldn't
be sitting here listening to this fucking Stevie Wonder song and getting all
sapped out over a girl I barely know -- but have, I think, a great connection
with and--- see, I'm doing it again. Completely obsessing. And I kinda like
it!
Yep. Bed. I. Must. Go. To.
Bed.
Wait...is that my cell
phone?
Posted: Sun - July 11, 2004 at 11:55 PM