To Live And Try In LA

Me. 11:30 pm, in bed, my glasses are taped together on the left side with electrical tape, somewhere, as I click and clack on the laptop, the thought goes through my head, I don't have enough money for gas and the reserve light is on. some cheap ass mulit colored jalapeno shaped Christmas lights bought for 50 cents at a yard sale, surround my bed, providing some kind of ambient lighting. and I'm clutching my stuffed Charles Darwin doll, Chuck to me, like a cherished childhood toy. Like a good luck charm. I'm working on a script. How fucking lame is that? How cheesy? How LA? But I have to say two years ago I was sitting in a similar situation, same glasses, minus the tape. And I was working on a script in New York City. That one was re-optioned this year. That one, for a paltry sum, someone bought the rights to shop around and help set up with a studio, so that they can make more money than me on it later. That one has sat on a shelf in a few agent's offices, and if the people who bought the rights to it are to be believed, sat on a lot of shelves. Two years now. How much dust could collect, if left undisturbed, on a three-hole punched, brass brad-ed pile of words, I wonder. What, maybe a half inch? I can't imagine. But this script ,the one I'm working on now, well this script has been half done for over two years. Yet, despite the dire situation, my prior laziness, and even as I hear rent's winged chariot hurrying near, I'm kind of glad, that at the very least, I am working on pursuing some dream I have, and for the first time in a long ass while, I'm not just sitting around talking about it.

Oh, and I'm pretty sure my cell phone just got turned off.

--------