things hated: getting up too early on Saturday morning
It's the perfect, steadily raining kind of day to sleep seriously in. Especially after the exhausting week I had, but no... that would be too sensible. I'll try and wait out the rain to go get strawberries from Tennessee at the farmer's market (the ones last week were specimens of tasty perfection). I'll sift through the written critiques from the writing workshop and continue revisions on The Book. Maybe I'll even have a nap. It goes without saying that I'm behind on email, and I'm behind on reading things for people and I apologize if I owe you a read or a note. We're also designing Say... this weekend, so it may be next week before I have time. Mea culpa.
The NYTimes has a piece on Los Angeles coffeehouses that cater to screenwriters.
"The best seats are the ones where people can't see your screen. That's critical because you don't want people to see what you're doing," explained Sharon, an aspiring screenwriter who wouldn't give her last name for the same reason that she shielded her screen. "There is a level of embarrassment," she said. "Not that people are going to steal your work, but that you are a cliché: an out-of-work screenwriter in Hollywood."
Why would I want to be out of work there when I can be out of work here? Also, even though I've been known to lug computer to coffeehouse on occasion, why does this article seem to accept the delusion that screenwriters can't work at home, for if they did their minds would explode all over their nice white walls.
But anyway, it's the kind of story that'll improve your own self esteem on a Saturday morning. It starts out with Effram Potelle of Project Greenlight infamy, for muse's sake. It even turns out that working in a diner as opposed to a coffeehouse makes you a morally superior person. I want to work in the Kentucky Theatre when it's empty, but I'm not going to people. I promise.
Giant crater news from off the coast of Australia.
The cinetrix is right on about MEAN GIRLS. What she said.
Today's bullshit horoscope, not even by Sydney Omarr's team of black clad assistants any more: CANCER (June 21-July 22): The atmosphere is seductive and alluring for the romantically inclined. Make the best of warm feelings in relationships, and extract a pledge now if you want the magic to last. Be confident of success.
"The magic?" Great, I always new I was dating a witch. We're supposed to go to the parkinng lot carnival tonight, but the damn rain is KILLING the atmosphere. Promising an evening of extreme muddiness or, worse, of no parking lot carnival. Good call scopemeister.
worm: that whole Sun Kil Moon album
check out: Hicksville by Dylan Horrocks
namecheck: Christopher "Japan Ain't Seen Nothing Yet" Barzak (also, "eat your heart out, Bill Murray")
The NYTimes has a piece on Los Angeles coffeehouses that cater to screenwriters.
"The best seats are the ones where people can't see your screen. That's critical because you don't want people to see what you're doing," explained Sharon, an aspiring screenwriter who wouldn't give her last name for the same reason that she shielded her screen. "There is a level of embarrassment," she said. "Not that people are going to steal your work, but that you are a cliché: an out-of-work screenwriter in Hollywood."
Why would I want to be out of work there when I can be out of work here? Also, even though I've been known to lug computer to coffeehouse on occasion, why does this article seem to accept the delusion that screenwriters can't work at home, for if they did their minds would explode all over their nice white walls.
But anyway, it's the kind of story that'll improve your own self esteem on a Saturday morning. It starts out with Effram Potelle of Project Greenlight infamy, for muse's sake. It even turns out that working in a diner as opposed to a coffeehouse makes you a morally superior person. I want to work in the Kentucky Theatre when it's empty, but I'm not going to people. I promise.
Giant crater news from off the coast of Australia.
The cinetrix is right on about MEAN GIRLS. What she said.
Today's bullshit horoscope, not even by Sydney Omarr's team of black clad assistants any more: CANCER (June 21-July 22): The atmosphere is seductive and alluring for the romantically inclined. Make the best of warm feelings in relationships, and extract a pledge now if you want the magic to last. Be confident of success.
"The magic?" Great, I always new I was dating a witch. We're supposed to go to the parkinng lot carnival tonight, but the damn rain is KILLING the atmosphere. Promising an evening of extreme muddiness or, worse, of no parking lot carnival. Good call scopemeister.
worm: that whole Sun Kil Moon album
check out: Hicksville by Dylan Horrocks
namecheck: Christopher "Japan Ain't Seen Nothing Yet" Barzak (also, "eat your heart out, Bill Murray")
posted by Gwenda @ 5/15/2004 08:55:00 AM
1 Comments:
At 9:49 AM ,
Anonymous said...
I enjoyed the screenwriting/coffee article. I love going to coffee houses (and diners) in LA for that very reason -- I love seeing so many people writing, being creative, pursuing their dreams. I get more of a buzz off of that than I do from the coffee. LA is a great, messy place, and I love it.
Jenn Reese
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