fair warning

Posting may be sporadic between now and next Tuesday, as I’ll be bouncing around LA with uncertain housing plans and even less certain web access until then. (Today’s screed, for example, comes courtesy of the fine residents of 423 Seward who have unwittingly lent their living room wi-fi to the back seat of my freshly rented neon blue Ford Focus, parked directly out front. God bless you NetStumbler.) Between now and my arrival up in San Francisco, I’ll be wedging in way too many brunches, lunches, dinners, coffees, meetings and drinks with LA-based friends, colleagues, potential collaborators, etc., etc.

And, of course, I’ll be partying like a rockstar. Sleep is for pansies.

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June 20, 2003

off again

After my (relatively) extended stretch at home sweet home, I’m headed back on the road – first LA to check up on post-production for ILYW, then San Francisco for the inimitable Helen Jane‘s big day.

I’ve clearly been traveling too much when there’s actually something oddly comforting about packing.

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June 19, 2003

escape

In Louisville, KY, visiting an old college friend for the weekend, so blogging may continue to be sporadic until my Monday return.

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March 29, 2003

where do i live again?

Just booked my next few business trips; seems I’ll be at home for a total of six and a half days over the next month. Sigh.

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March 26, 2003

the joy of travel

It is 9:00 AM and I am on my way to return my rented car, a little, white, brand new Corolla that feels remarkably underpowered on LA’s fast-moving freeways. I’ve rented the car from Midway, the company from which I leased the SUV I drove during the months I was in LA for shooting; they’re a pleasure to deal with, and have cut me a great deal, but sadly don’t have an office at Long Beach Airport, the closest place where JetBlue flies. So I am returning the car to their corporate headquarters, on the corner of Sepulveda and Santa Monica Boulevard.

I’m supposed to head back to near the Beverly Center, to meet the girl I’ve been seeing for breakfast before I head off to the airport. The Midway folks kindly offer to drop me off, and though Jorge, the mechanic who takes me, speaks absolutely no English, we make it through the twenty minute drive talking non-stop, he in Spanish, I in Italian. By and large we understand each other, yet Jorge is particularly enamored with most of the women we pass, and offers a running commentary I’m afraid my rather G-rated textbook Italian leaves me ill-prepared to follow in great detail.

Breakfast itself is excellent. She and I eat outside at a small caf

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March 7, 2003

back and forth and back and

Ridiculously enough, I’m out in Los Angeles, yet again, for a short stint (arrived Tuesday afternoon, head back early tomorrow morning) to deal with a couple of post-production emergencies and to begin lining up contracts and financing for our next project. Then it’s back to New York for two days before heading off to Florida for the Florida Film Festival. And then back to New York, briefly, before a trip out to San Francisco, next weekend.

By now, I have absolutely no idea where I live nor what time I’m on. But, on the plus side, I’m racking up all kinds of frequent flier miles, which means, if I’m real lucky, I can fly even more!

I remember my father once telling me about a patient of his who worked as a traveling salesman. When he awoke in the morning, the man would roll over and look at the carpet – if it was blue, he was at home; if not, he’d stay in bed until he could remember where he was and what he was doing there. For the first time in my life, that story makes a lot of sense.

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March 6, 2003

helpful note

If, because the documents, clothing, and other items you’ve accumulated during two months in Los Angeles don’t all fit into your suitcase, you cleverly decide to UPS some things back home, be sure to check the pockets of any pants you ship, so that you don’t realize the following morning that you’ve actually sent your wallet out by mistake as well.

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February 19, 2003

brrrrr

The snowline in Central Park, a few short blocks from my New York apartment, has hit 19 inches. I’ve been gradually turning up the AC here in LA, preparing for my return.

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February 18, 2003

raindrops keep fallin’ on my head

It’s wet in LA. Which seems to have taken the city by surprise. Stores are closed, highways are flooded, old women cower in the corners of their earthquake-proofed homes. Yet I’m oddly happy. Too many sunny days uninterrupted have grated on me as much as too many days of dark drizzle would have, and today there’s something oddly pleasant about sitting inside, watching the clouds through the windows, and listening to the gentle ratt-a-tat-tat of raindrops on the roof.

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February 12, 2003