So what exactly is Hollywood anyway?
Is it a city?
Is it a sign up on a hill?
Is it a street?
Is it "the movies"?
Is it a guy dressed up like Michael Jackson in front of Grauman's Chinese Theater?
or...
Is it the stars on the walk of fame?
Is it a bubble?
Is it a dream?
Is it a broken dream?
Is it romance? A thriller? A comedy?
A horror?
Is it Jerrry, begging for a coffee outside of Starbucks, telling you how he once was a brilliant songwriter, how Capital Records stole his songs but one of them got on the radio anyway, but he never got credit, but John Lennon thought he was brilliant, but then he fell on hard times - very hard times - and now a coffee would be good - very good... and a shower if possible...
Is it young Gavin, who met the lead guy from Lost in Hawaii who told him - go to Hollywood. If you got real talent, you'll be discovered. And now here he is, with 50 bucks and a dream and a buddy's couch for another few days...
Hollywood, surely is a place where actors, dancers, models, writers and musicians go to "make it".
Is it a place where those who have "made it" try to make it better or bigger or faster. It is where those who are no longer working, or who have faded from the limelight, sit out the rest of their days remembering how wonderful it all was - or how unfair.
Hollywood is surely creative. It's a game, a gamble.
It's a place where the ego will run rampant. Or spirit will wake you up.
If you are lazy in Hollywood, you are dead. If you are crazy in Hollywood, you are tolerated.
Hollywood is meetings and appointments and auditions and lunches and managers and agents and happy hour and coke and clubs, Black and White, Hispanic and Jewish.
Everyone is welcome. Just be prepared to be propelled like a rocket into the stars - or to fall hard. Standing still is not an option.
4 months
Yup, 2 thirds of way through now. Have either of us come even close to "making it'? Of course not, but damn, the weather is good and the frozen yogurt is amazing! Not sure how long I can pull this off but I am going to try and stretch it out long as I can. Apparently my attorney is getting me a visa to be a legal working actor in the USA. If that actually transpires, I will have to find an agent. And after that a manger. Because I am a screenwriter and a sometimes filmmaker, I will also need an agent for that. Some say it is hard to get an agent/manager in LA. I say, it's hard to lose that last inch of fat on your belly. It's easy to get an agent but a good agent? That's another story. There are more shysters in Hollywood than taco huts in east LA.
So I have been spending a lot of time doing research - getting the lay of the land - how this place works, who controls it, how to "get in". I have been attending industry seminars and talks. I scower the screenwriting websites every day, read the Hollywood Reporter news and Variety. I go to the Writer's store and buy books - like the essential "Swimming With The Sharks". Knowledge is power folks. Be prepared. Worst thing you can do is rush in too soon and find yourself in shark infested waters without a paddle.
A lot of people do what we set out to do - make it in 6 months or go home. I think it's something like five to ten thousand a year. The more I am here, the more I am told and learn - Hollywood is not a sprint, it's a marathon. Get ready for the long haul. For screenwriters, filmmakers and actors, it often takes five years to get established and to really understand and be able to navigate the lay of this confusing and expansive land. You have to be prepared for inevitable rejection - the staple of being a creative person in Hollywood. Most of all, you have to persist and you have to be good and smart.
Now yes, sometimes I do get anxious - are we doing enough? Meeting enough people? The right people? Connecting? Networking? Should we be loitering outside the Scientology Center or on the corner of Sunset and Vine? When I start having these ludicrous thoughts, I know it's time to hit the Red Rock.
Yes Happy Hour at the Red Rock - corner of Sunset and Holloway. Damn good lime margaritas, friendly staff and always jovial patrons happy to chat about the madness of Hollywood. Dreams come and go, but the Red Rock is always there, right in the heart of it - after a long day of trying to make it.
But enough of reality already - I would rather dwell on the fantasy a while longer - at least until the end of our initial stint. Newbies earn this privilege by the enormous risk they take leaving the familiar behind. Looking out over Beverly Hills from our fantastic balcony, watching the sun set through the palm trees swaying in the balmy breeze, lounging by the pool with Sir Ben, one can dream of big things.
Did I say Sir Ben?
Yes I did. The mystery is solved. Sir Ben really is our neighbour! J ran into him in the elevator and they ended up chatting about his jetlag - as he had just flown in from London. Then, in the laundry room next to the parking garage, he helped her pick up some laundry quarters she dropped (probably from the shock) and then after going to his car, he came back and asked her if she could help him figure out his car insurance sticker -which he was afraid might be expired. Next day he was hanging at the pool and J talked to him again - lovely weather, better put on some "screener", etc. She called me to come. I rushed over from Starbucks. He was reading and looked peaceful so I hesitated with having her introduce me - but then he got a call and left. Oh well, no panic. Neighbours run into each other.
That is all from La la land for now.
Out. EhinLA
Monday, May 17, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday in the Park with Sir Paul
How crazy is it to randomly run into Paul McCartney? And to chat for twenty minutes about everything from rattlesnakes to stage fright?
You know, I am a little embarrassed to admit it, but I have these cards I use sometimes - to meditate with. Yesterday morning my card said "Nature". Get out into nature. Usually I put these types of cards right back in the deck and draw another one - preferably something about "abundance" or "power". But I didn't this time. Instead, we decided to take the day off and go find some nature.
So there we were, J and I, in some obscure Hollywood Hills park, coming down a trail carrying a big stick - when a funny old gentleman, sitting on a bench in an enclosed area says - "Oh, now that's a big stick. Much bigger than the one I've got." I took a look - thought he looked familiar - thought he looked like Paul McCartney. "Yeah" said I, "I need it to fend off the rattlesnakes." J said "Hey, I know that face - you're Paul" - and so we introduced ourselves. My heart started to race so I used my years of meditation practice to slow it down and... breathe...
It was obvious Paul McCartney was in a good mood, friendly and engaging - and kind of chatty - so we started talking about rattlesnakes and the other little creatures and birds you see in that park.
Because some of you have asked, here's a summary of the highlights I can remember about our conversation.
He asked what we were doing in LA and J told him we were here to promote our music, etc. - that we both performed and I played guitar for her. J said she had left her career working with disabled children to follow her music passion – and she wanted to have success partly so she could do benefit concerts and “give back”. Paul really got animated at this point and told her with conviction - "You've done plenty for others, now it’s okay to take for yourself – give back to yourself." (or similar words).
J took that opportunity to boldly say she would love it if he would listen to her CD and if he felt called to help, she would love that too. (that girl has chutzpah). I stood there a little embarrassed, chopping my big stick on the dirt as she took the CD out of her purse and gave him mine too. He took a close look and then put them in his shorts pocket. I said - "You don't have to listen to them." and he laughed.
He said when he and John first started playing, they did it strictly for work (and girls). I joked - not in that order, right? - he grinned. He said folks in Liverpool were desperate just to have a job, never thought about “giving back”, not in their vocabulary. He said they (he and John) worked and worked in the old days – constantly playing shows just to make ends meet. Said they couldn’t even afford guitars at first – had to work hard to get them. He said (to J) you got to play and play a lot so you can get seen - especially here in LA, you can be seen by music execs, etc. anywhere. He told a story that he and John once said – "Let’s write a song for a pool." (because they wanted a pool and knew the only way to get it was a hit)
We talked a bit about the legacy of the Beatles and their influence. I said "you guys crossed the generation gap, even my mother loved you" He said yes, the music in those days inspired/influenced people about the possibility of freedom - it was really remarkable. I told him how I missed out when I was six - my sister and brothers went to the concert in Toronto but I was too young. "Little Robbie wanted to go" he said - which is weird because I was called Robbie back then.
We talked about performing and if he still gets a thrill from it. He said yeah - he loves playing nowadays because he now knows everyone who is there really has fought to get a ticket and they want to be there. And there are all ages out there - some of the kids know the lyrics better than he does - he's forgotten them. But he said he loves to just plug in his guitar into a big amp and make a racket.
We talked about songwriting and he said - yeah, he never stops writing, it's what keeps him fresh. He still gets nervous doing the new songs - they have six new ones for the Hollywood Bowl tomorrow. Said his girlfriend said if he isn't challenged he'll just "phone in" the performances - so he tries to challenge himself. The new songs still make him do that. Said he still makes mistakes on stage but doesn’t care and the crowd loves it – they love mistakes. I said, yes, when we do that, it shows your humanity.
(Isn't it great how I said "we" as in fellow musicians - as if "we" are in the same club. But I have to say, he was talking to us as fellow musicians and there was no condescension at all - he did it with a really nice humility.)
We made a move to go, but he actually started chatting again. So on we went...
I asked him what he learned first – guitar or bass – he said guitar. I asked him what songs he wrote first – he said he wrote a few by himself at first and so did John and then they got together and wrote (he thought) Love Me Do and I Saw Her Standing There. But the more they wrote, the songs started getting better.
Felt like it was time to move on, so J said "Very nice to meet you Sir Paul". He chuckled and said "Oh, so formal." We said our goodbyes and J complimented him on how great he looks and I said "I hope I look as good as you do when I'm your age." He seemed to like that.
After we left we ran into him again about a minute later down the trail and he said jokingly “Hey, I just met two people who looked exactly like you.” Then he jumped up to the fence, like some kind of gnome and started shaving his stick in a hole in the fence. I said "sharpening for the rattlesnakes, huh?"
You know, I am a little embarrassed to admit it, but I have these cards I use sometimes - to meditate with. Yesterday morning my card said "Nature". Get out into nature. Usually I put these types of cards right back in the deck and draw another one - preferably something about "abundance" or "power". But I didn't this time. Instead, we decided to take the day off and go find some nature.
So there we were, J and I, in some obscure Hollywood Hills park, coming down a trail carrying a big stick - when a funny old gentleman, sitting on a bench in an enclosed area says - "Oh, now that's a big stick. Much bigger than the one I've got." I took a look - thought he looked familiar - thought he looked like Paul McCartney. "Yeah" said I, "I need it to fend off the rattlesnakes." J said "Hey, I know that face - you're Paul" - and so we introduced ourselves. My heart started to race so I used my years of meditation practice to slow it down and... breathe...
It was obvious Paul McCartney was in a good mood, friendly and engaging - and kind of chatty - so we started talking about rattlesnakes and the other little creatures and birds you see in that park.
Because some of you have asked, here's a summary of the highlights I can remember about our conversation.
He asked what we were doing in LA and J told him we were here to promote our music, etc. - that we both performed and I played guitar for her. J said she had left her career working with disabled children to follow her music passion – and she wanted to have success partly so she could do benefit concerts and “give back”. Paul really got animated at this point and told her with conviction - "You've done plenty for others, now it’s okay to take for yourself – give back to yourself." (or similar words).
J took that opportunity to boldly say she would love it if he would listen to her CD and if he felt called to help, she would love that too. (that girl has chutzpah). I stood there a little embarrassed, chopping my big stick on the dirt as she took the CD out of her purse and gave him mine too. He took a close look and then put them in his shorts pocket. I said - "You don't have to listen to them." and he laughed.
He said when he and John first started playing, they did it strictly for work (and girls). I joked - not in that order, right? - he grinned. He said folks in Liverpool were desperate just to have a job, never thought about “giving back”, not in their vocabulary. He said they (he and John) worked and worked in the old days – constantly playing shows just to make ends meet. Said they couldn’t even afford guitars at first – had to work hard to get them. He said (to J) you got to play and play a lot so you can get seen - especially here in LA, you can be seen by music execs, etc. anywhere. He told a story that he and John once said – "Let’s write a song for a pool." (because they wanted a pool and knew the only way to get it was a hit)
We talked a bit about the legacy of the Beatles and their influence. I said "you guys crossed the generation gap, even my mother loved you" He said yes, the music in those days inspired/influenced people about the possibility of freedom - it was really remarkable. I told him how I missed out when I was six - my sister and brothers went to the concert in Toronto but I was too young. "Little Robbie wanted to go" he said - which is weird because I was called Robbie back then.
We talked about performing and if he still gets a thrill from it. He said yeah - he loves playing nowadays because he now knows everyone who is there really has fought to get a ticket and they want to be there. And there are all ages out there - some of the kids know the lyrics better than he does - he's forgotten them. But he said he loves to just plug in his guitar into a big amp and make a racket.
We talked about songwriting and he said - yeah, he never stops writing, it's what keeps him fresh. He still gets nervous doing the new songs - they have six new ones for the Hollywood Bowl tomorrow. Said his girlfriend said if he isn't challenged he'll just "phone in" the performances - so he tries to challenge himself. The new songs still make him do that. Said he still makes mistakes on stage but doesn’t care and the crowd loves it – they love mistakes. I said, yes, when we do that, it shows your humanity.
(Isn't it great how I said "we" as in fellow musicians - as if "we" are in the same club. But I have to say, he was talking to us as fellow musicians and there was no condescension at all - he did it with a really nice humility.)
We made a move to go, but he actually started chatting again. So on we went...
I asked him what he learned first – guitar or bass – he said guitar. I asked him what songs he wrote first – he said he wrote a few by himself at first and so did John and then they got together and wrote (he thought) Love Me Do and I Saw Her Standing There. But the more they wrote, the songs started getting better.
Felt like it was time to move on, so J said "Very nice to meet you Sir Paul". He chuckled and said "Oh, so formal." We said our goodbyes and J complimented him on how great he looks and I said "I hope I look as good as you do when I'm your age." He seemed to like that.
After we left we ran into him again about a minute later down the trail and he said jokingly “Hey, I just met two people who looked exactly like you.” Then he jumped up to the fence, like some kind of gnome and started shaving his stick in a hole in the fence. I said "sharpening for the rattlesnakes, huh?"
Monday, March 29, 2010
Half Time Check-In
Well thank God the Olympics are over and I can stop sobbing already. How strange to watch the normally dreary and rain drenched glassy streets of downtown Vancouver come alive with so many thousands of enthusiastic, patriotic and - dare I say - drunk (with pride of course) sports fans. Where did they all come from!? Surrey and Richmond I would guess - maybe even the Fraser Valley? In any case, these joyous suburban revelers made we Vancouverites look like we are some very keen folk. Before I left, the only enthusiasm I heard from anyone was - "Can't wait until it's over". Everyone was dreading the traffic, the road closures, the sheer mad inconvenience. But in came the world and following them closely, the hoser partyers! Damn we know how to drink our beer and throw a party.
Anyway, we missed it all. But not really. At least we got to watch Vancouver TV through Gary's Sling Box - so we could hear the constant gushing of the CTV crew. Much better than the gushing of the NBC casters about good old team USA.
Campbell was here when the BIG GAME happened and we found ourselves in an Irish Pub in Santa Monica, full of flag waving fans on one side - and about a dozen expat Canadians on the other. When the US scored that tying goal the place erupted. They actually ran into our side waving their flags and hollering. Then, when we scored that glorious overtime goal, the place went dead quiet - except for the dozen yelps of glee from our quarters. The place emptied out in a minute.
But the Americans were gracious. Campbell was wearing his official Olympic T and everyone kept honking and congratulating us. Several folks said stuff like - "Hey it's your game, you deserved to win, how perfect for Canada" etc. etc. So yes, Americans can be gracious too - but they can learn a few things about partying from us.
So my quest to work in the US of A is coming closer to true possibility. I have been busy soliciting letters from my influential friends to help me prove to the MAN (the scary guys who man the 49th parallel) that I am an artist of "extraordinary ability". Only the extraordinary aliens get to live and work in the land of the free and home of the brave. These letters, along with a mountain of paperwork my lawyer is preparing - may just get me the ticket I need to get in that audition room. It's a crap shoot but I will keep you posted. Should I get the big O-1, we will be returning in Canada for July, then straight back here for the fall mid season replacements. Ready to conquer La La land.
Meanwhile I study, study, study (acting class) and write, write, write (my screenplay) - and everywhere I look, everybody is doing pretty much the same thing. How am I different? How will I rise above the fray? Well friends, it is called total blissful naivety or "beginners luck" in layman's terms. I believe beginners luck is not really luck but a real phenomenon - a graceful state where our cynical mind has not yet learned to habitually attack itself. There is a grace period where we still believe in possibility, in the dream - that sheer desire is enough. And so we believe, so does the universe and that is where the magic can happen. We are not Americans. We are not jaded. We are not buying into the terrible self deprecating, nation deflating psychosis that is striking American with a vengeance today. These poor folk, once on top of the world are feeling beaten. First to terrorism, next to the surprising awakening that the world thinks they are mean and stupid, and finally to the terrible reality of devastating recession. And now, health care. God forbid, health care! What next? Free dental? (let's not get too crazy here - even Canadians don't believe in that).
Anyway, don't get me stared on health care and tea parties...
Campbell and I went to our first LA "Mastery" workshop (the infamous self expression workshop I co-lead in Vancouver) where he got a chance to "rebirth" Americans and I got a chance to experience "back row" Dan Fauci style. Dan, the maverick Mastery creator does things very differently down here and one has to be on one's toes at all times. Must check ego at door.
Anyway, several of the participants happened to be stand up comics and they told me about a great class they did to get started - 10 weeks and then you do a showcase at the legendary Laugh Factory on Sunset Blvd. Something happened and I got the bug. Maybe it was Dan's incessant reminder that we have to constantly challenge ourselves and "get out a yer comfort zone" , maybe it was Larry's orange sweater vest - I don't know, but I know I have to do that class and do my five minutes of stand up or die!
Meanwhile, while we were hanging with Dan, Larry & co, J was at Sister Giant, Marianne Williamson's seminar on 3rd world child poverty for spiritual people. Turns out J caught a car pool with Calamity Jane from Deadwood - one of our favorite actors and now they are buds.
Last weekend we were honoured to be part of the legendary Gilman sader. Larry's festive passover dinner is like no other I have ever been to. And totally Hollywood! There were about 40 of us sitting at 6 different tables and I think everyone was in show biz in some capacity. Some of the service, which Larry conducted with a great mix of solemnity and humour, included revised show tunes - like "There's no sader like our sader..." (no biz like show biz) and ... We found ourselves sitting with a six time Grammy winner, a broadway star, a big time theatre director, an academy award nominee for best supporting actor and star of a hit TV series from the seventies. So talk about great connections - and to be a Jew - this is how it works in LA - we are so connected now.
More on the Ben Kingsley mystery. I finally saw the Prius pull in and waited with bated breath to finally meet Sir Ben. But the man who emerged was not Sir Ben. He was a short funny looking chap - who I assume to be Mr. HR - the name on the apartment directory and the Prius's license plate. Ben's rommie? Friend? Lover? We asked another neighbour - did you know BK lived here? Oh yes, he said, sure. Have you ever seen him? Oh no. In any case, we saw Shutter Island, just in case we run into him so we have something to talk about.
Our first musical show - was weird. Only 3 of our most dedicated friends showed up for us - Patrick, Yani and J's new friend Robin. The place was empty except for the odd family of the guy who went first (his brother-in-law had the biggest mohawk you've ever seen). The show opener really brought the house down (I mean literally) with his depressing sad songs and his out of tune Epiphone electric. But what are you going to do? on we went and J gave it her all. At least folks were attentive. By the time I got on the stage the place has filled up with a bunch of rowdies there to see the next guy. There were so rude, making a racket and ignoring me. Even when I yelled at them - "Hey, you guys in the back got to listen to this next song, you'll love it!" they quieted down for 5 seconds and then started again. When we left Patrick, sporting a CBC t-shirt, gave them a piece of his mind. "So now you're quiet when your guy goes on." Those who heard him were shocked and sort of tickled. One of them said, "Hey the coach from Glee just chewed us out! Cool."
But fear not, we have a show booked for next month in the valley and I believe it will be well attended. Much of my acting class will show up as well as some of our new friends from the seder - including the 6 time Grammy winner.
Well good news. Starbucks has allowed guns into their coffee shops - only if they
are holstered and concealed. Whew. That makes me feel safe.
J and I started the South Beach Diet. After only 3 weeks we have lost 25 pounds between the two of us! (just kidding). More like 20. Come on folks - the warm beach weather is here and we have to be in shape just in case we are discovered. So we have cut out the fat free frozen yogurt and the mole tacos and locked ourselves inside during happy hour (daily 5-8).
There is much more but this is enough for now. I will try to be more diligent in my blogging and keep you all posted. Never a dull moment here, you can be assured of that. And the weather is fantastic. Did I mention that?
Out for now,
Eh in LA
Monday, February 22, 2010
Sexy Beast in the Building
Well it is February and the sun has come out full force. Sad as I am to be missing the big party in Vancouver, I can't help gloat about the stellar weather here. There is no Olympic fever here, that's for sure. Lot of folks aren't even aware it's going on, let alone sure where Vancouver is located. "That's in Canada isn't it? Near that french place - Quebec?" I know this because I quiz the workers at the stores and coffee shops all the time. In the papers, the stories have mainly been about the security risks and the luge tragedy and how much NBC is losing by broadcasting the games.
Yes, Ben is in the building. We have got if from a reliable neighbour that the Sir indeed lives here. We know which apartment. We know his parking space, which up until recently has been empty. Then a car appeared in it, right in sinc with the release of "Shutter Island". We see his Prius everyday, sometimes in its spot, sometimes not. Sometimes he parks rear to front, sometimes front to rear. Still, we have not run into Ben. Only a matter of time though. I am just so afraid of mumbling something unintelligible and ruining my chances of becoming his new buddy.
We have begun the open mic circuit and wow- let me tell you Vancouver, you guys should be very, very proud of your talent. These open mics are more like circus shows - weird talent and even weirder rooms. The dingy Kabbitz room is a cavern like watering hole stuck beside a Jewish deli. It's a dive but they are famous for giving triple drinks for only five bucks. Another, the Rainbow Room has a big pit below and a small opening that looks up to the main floor. So you have to kind of bend your neck to see the musicians. The wanna be stand up comics, come up closer - which is too close for comfort usually. Upstairs there's a dark loft where the Rolling Stones and other rock and roll hall of famers once did drugs and other nasty things - according to Joey the door guy, who's been there for 25 years and seen it all. Maybe rock and roll will never die but it looks like it's about 90 years old up on the inglorious sunset strip.
We went there to observe an open mic night and decided it was low key enough for us to do our first appearance there the following week. Monday came and we were determined to go, even though I had a cold. Knew we had to break the ice. With good friend Richard visiting from Vancouver, we trudged up the hill to Sunset, Gibson in hand, walking past all the grungy clubs, some you may have heard of: "The Viper Room", "Whiskey a Go Go" - and on to the Rainbow where we suffered, and I mean really suffered through two hours of mostly awful entertainment. When it was finally our turn, there were only a handful of drunk regulars there. There was almost no response from them. J sang a very solid "Mistaken" and I played - I don't know why - "I Want to Be the Pope" and "Fall Girl". We left right after, feeling good that we'd given it our all and had one under our belt.
Next day, while waiting to go into the "Backdraft" set at Universal Studios Theme Park, Judith got a call. The promoter from the Rainbow wanted to know if we would play a show at one of their venues! LA weird.
Thursday at Barbara Deutch - entertainment coach: I have to sell myself more. Tell people about my accomplishments. I am not just another wanabee and people here are impressed by anyone who has gotten beyond the dream to something remotely tangible. So okay, I will brag more. Even though it makes me feel really, really uncomfortable. So Canadian, I know..
Celebrity sightings: Well poor Richard, here for a week and by his last day he still hadn't seen one celeb. We were on our way home from Santa Monica, stopped at a light when Richard, from the back seat says: "Isn't that Swartzenager?"I looked to the black Van next to us and sure enough, Arnold is sitting in the passenger seat, his head lowered, deep in gubernatorial thought. Couldn't bare to honk the horn and wave. Seeing Arnold in a real moment was enough of a thrill. Good score Richard!
Something I have learned: There is a local mental disease they call Hollywood NOS or "HOS". This is a made up designation based on the non specified disorder NOS from the DSM IV - the manual psychiatrists use to diagnose mental illnesses. People with HOS are obsessed with "making it" or becoming a celebrity or rubbing shoulders with celebrities or in any way climbing the various ladders of power in the entertainment biz. These people are either actively in their addiction or recovering from it. Those inside it work tirelessly, sleep little, party way too hard and only speak to people who are "useful" or "somebody" who can help them become more famous or powerful in Hollywood. Of course it's all an illusion and there is no end game for these poor saps who's world eventually comes crashing down. Most of them end up becoming alcoholics or drug addicts or if they are lucky, in rehab.
So just a friendly reminder to myself: If you play the game, don't forget it's just a game.
I think that will be it for now. Campbell is coming back for a week so there should be more funny stuff on the way. This weekend I participate in my first LA Mastery workshop and get to watch founder Dan Fauci do his thing while J goes to Marianne Williamson's "Sister Giant" seminar with 500 other women hell bent on changing themselves and child poverty. Man - are we going to be powerful by the end of the weekend. Look out LA!
Yes, Ben is in the building. We have got if from a reliable neighbour that the Sir indeed lives here. We know which apartment. We know his parking space, which up until recently has been empty. Then a car appeared in it, right in sinc with the release of "Shutter Island". We see his Prius everyday, sometimes in its spot, sometimes not. Sometimes he parks rear to front, sometimes front to rear. Still, we have not run into Ben. Only a matter of time though. I am just so afraid of mumbling something unintelligible and ruining my chances of becoming his new buddy.
We have begun the open mic circuit and wow- let me tell you Vancouver, you guys should be very, very proud of your talent. These open mics are more like circus shows - weird talent and even weirder rooms. The dingy Kabbitz room is a cavern like watering hole stuck beside a Jewish deli. It's a dive but they are famous for giving triple drinks for only five bucks. Another, the Rainbow Room has a big pit below and a small opening that looks up to the main floor. So you have to kind of bend your neck to see the musicians. The wanna be stand up comics, come up closer - which is too close for comfort usually. Upstairs there's a dark loft where the Rolling Stones and other rock and roll hall of famers once did drugs and other nasty things - according to Joey the door guy, who's been there for 25 years and seen it all. Maybe rock and roll will never die but it looks like it's about 90 years old up on the inglorious sunset strip.
We went there to observe an open mic night and decided it was low key enough for us to do our first appearance there the following week. Monday came and we were determined to go, even though I had a cold. Knew we had to break the ice. With good friend Richard visiting from Vancouver, we trudged up the hill to Sunset, Gibson in hand, walking past all the grungy clubs, some you may have heard of: "The Viper Room", "Whiskey a Go Go" - and on to the Rainbow where we suffered, and I mean really suffered through two hours of mostly awful entertainment. When it was finally our turn, there were only a handful of drunk regulars there. There was almost no response from them. J sang a very solid "Mistaken" and I played - I don't know why - "I Want to Be the Pope" and "Fall Girl". We left right after, feeling good that we'd given it our all and had one under our belt.
Next day, while waiting to go into the "Backdraft" set at Universal Studios Theme Park, Judith got a call. The promoter from the Rainbow wanted to know if we would play a show at one of their venues! LA weird.
Thursday at Barbara Deutch - entertainment coach: I have to sell myself more. Tell people about my accomplishments. I am not just another wanabee and people here are impressed by anyone who has gotten beyond the dream to something remotely tangible. So okay, I will brag more. Even though it makes me feel really, really uncomfortable. So Canadian, I know..
Celebrity sightings: Well poor Richard, here for a week and by his last day he still hadn't seen one celeb. We were on our way home from Santa Monica, stopped at a light when Richard, from the back seat says: "Isn't that Swartzenager?"I looked to the black Van next to us and sure enough, Arnold is sitting in the passenger seat, his head lowered, deep in gubernatorial thought. Couldn't bare to honk the horn and wave. Seeing Arnold in a real moment was enough of a thrill. Good score Richard!
Something I have learned: There is a local mental disease they call Hollywood NOS or "HOS". This is a made up designation based on the non specified disorder NOS from the DSM IV - the manual psychiatrists use to diagnose mental illnesses. People with HOS are obsessed with "making it" or becoming a celebrity or rubbing shoulders with celebrities or in any way climbing the various ladders of power in the entertainment biz. These people are either actively in their addiction or recovering from it. Those inside it work tirelessly, sleep little, party way too hard and only speak to people who are "useful" or "somebody" who can help them become more famous or powerful in Hollywood. Of course it's all an illusion and there is no end game for these poor saps who's world eventually comes crashing down. Most of them end up becoming alcoholics or drug addicts or if they are lucky, in rehab.
So just a friendly reminder to myself: If you play the game, don't forget it's just a game.
I think that will be it for now. Campbell is coming back for a week so there should be more funny stuff on the way. This weekend I participate in my first LA Mastery workshop and get to watch founder Dan Fauci do his thing while J goes to Marianne Williamson's "Sister Giant" seminar with 500 other women hell bent on changing themselves and child poverty. Man - are we going to be powerful by the end of the weekend. Look out LA!
Saturday, February 6, 2010
How to Make it in LA in 6 months in 10 Easy Steps...
1. I actually have no idea.
2. Be bold?
3. Be ruthless.
4. Meet people!
5. Connect with people: anyone, especially limo drivers.
6. Crash parties.
7. Be at the right place at the right time.
8. Get lucky?
9. Cry a lot.
10.I really have no idea. Nobody does.
Thank god for our cats. For while we struggle and toil to make it here, they go about their business of sleeping and cuddling with no thoughts of fame, fortune or even creative fulfillment. Long as J and I are around, they are content. And the sun helps.
I am exaggerating, we are not struggling, we are actually going about our own business of working on our respective creative endeavors, working out, going to classes and drop ins, getting manicures...
Manicures - now that's something to talk about. Campbell, before he left, showed up with the nicest, cleanest fingernails you have ever seen on a guy. He was all smiles - "Only fifteen bucks" He encouraged me to get one too and I said no, so he put $20 in my hand and sent me down to the Vietnamese family run business on Santa Monica. Of course, J wasn't going to let me get a manicure without her getting one too.
A lovely young lady got me settled while a handsome young lad took care of J. Suddenly the girl was gone and replaced by a rather abrasive, ugly young flamer. Now I dont know about you guys, but if I am going to take the big step to metro by getting my nails done, I don't want a guy doing them, gay or not. I asked for the girl to come back and thankfully they obliged. Luckily her English was terrible so I could just sit back and enjoy the delight of being pampered. Unfortunately, she didn't understand me when I said "No polish". She meant that to be "Polish". Anyway, the three of us went to the Coffee Bean and admired each others' glossy nails. Another day in West Hollywood.
Before I forget, more star sightings! J is for sure winning with a major sighting of Neve Campbell in a local eatery although C had numerous sightings of obscure actors from the TV present and past. I had the misfortune of seeing Andy Dick once again. C and I were thrilled to meet and be in the lovely home of Donna Mills, star of Knots Landing. We also met Fisher Stevens (actor who once dated Michelle Pfeiffer) who has an academy award nom for a major doc this year about the dolphin trade in Japan. Then there was Francis Fisher (wife of Clint) who J & I spotted at a Marianne Williamson lecture. Oh, and Marianne herself of course.
Marianne authored "A Return to Love" and is one of our heroes. She just happens to be back in LA after 12 years and wants to give back to the community - so she gives pay what you can lectures every Tues night at a theater about 5 minutes from here. Frustrated as one can get in the rat race called Hollywood, one is reminded of the truly important things on these Tuesdays - to meditate, stay close to your source, to love and remember who we really are and why we are really here. Much as my ego keeps telling me it is to make the next Seinfeld, it is really just to spread the love, baby.
Patrick brought his "Actor", the SAG award he got for Glee to class last Wednesday and jeez is that thing heavy! That boy is proud and so he should be. We had a great talk about the biz at Cat and Fiddle on Thursday and it made me want to go for it even more. Just gotta get that visa. Good news is that my new hotshot New York lawyer thinks I have a good shot at it. Bring on the paperwork!
J and I had our first drop in with Barbara Deutsch, renowned entertainment biz coach. Good kick in the ass. Thanks to a contact there, J now has an audition for the most happening music cabaret in LA! My task was to go to Samual French and research managers and agents. Holy crap - do not, I repeat, do not go to this bookstore with your wallet if you are an actor, filmmaker, director, producer, musician, film buff, etc, etc. The temptation is too great and you will leave broke (but armed with all the imperative info you need to make it and make it big!) I have never seen the volume or variety of such books in my life. Wow. I could easily have left there with the entire Hollywood Creative Directory and thirty other great titles - but I resisted. I will have to rely on my slowly but surely expanding circle of contacts.
Had a few "meetings" this week. Most notable was the one with my cousin's attorney. I was to meet them at a bar on Melrose but when I got there, cop cars were blocking off the entire strip and red lights were flashing everywhere. They wouldn't tell me what was happening and they wouldn't let me on the street so I went down a back alley and convinced the Mexican cooks to let me go through the kitchen. About five minutes in, the music stopped and the manager announced that we must all evacuate. There was a car on the street with a suspected bomb. Rather than panic, my cous's lawywer insisted they get their burgers, for which they'd been waiting a very long time for. Everyone left while we waited for the cook to pack 'em up to go.
Burgers in hand, we left and there was a great buzz on the street. Everyone was talking to each other. Several New Yorkers said it reminded them of being in NY again. Someone said actor/musician Jared Leto was doing a screening of a documentary when some guy came in with a suspicious package. The bomb squad was called in. Check out this link.
http://www.mtv.com/news/articles/1631430/20100205/30_seconds_to_mars.jhtml
My cousin's attorney's car was parked right on the street beside the suspicious car and he wanted to move it but the cop said no way. "Hey, I know my rights". He started going toward it and all of us had to remind him this wasn't a negotiation for some movie deal - this was the bomb squad and they were not going to let him get his car. Now that's the kind of tenacious attorney I want on my team. In fact, it would just be cool to say I have an "attorney".
"Sorry I flaked out". Apparently this is a legitimate excuse in LA, a reliable source told me. Sometimes you arrange to meet someone and they just don't show up. A few days later you might get a call from them saying "Sorry man, I flaked out.". There is nothing you can do, especially if this is an important contact.
So right now I want to apologize for being rather tardy with the latest installment of this blog. I flaked out man. Sorry.
Okay, so I have a potential attorney now and another friend from Vancouver is trying to set me up with a manager. My Canadian agent tells me no managers are taking on new clients until the economy improves. But apparently you don't need a manager anyway. If you're a great actor, someone will see you. If you have a good script, all you have to do is talk about it and it will eventually make it's way around this town. And someone will option it. But you cannot rest. If you want to make it in LA, you must always be on the ball - for that record exec or agent from William Morris might just be sitting next to you at the Yogurt Stop and you had better have something funny to say and your pitch ready.
Now that the car siren that has been blaring for the past half hour has finally stopped, I will go and wake up J and we will have a breakfast meeting - or maybe just breakfast.
2. Be bold?
3. Be ruthless.
4. Meet people!
5. Connect with people: anyone, especially limo drivers.
6. Crash parties.
7. Be at the right place at the right time.
8. Get lucky?
9. Cry a lot.
10.I really have no idea. Nobody does.
Thank god for our cats. For while we struggle and toil to make it here, they go about their business of sleeping and cuddling with no thoughts of fame, fortune or even creative fulfillment. Long as J and I are around, they are content. And the sun helps.
I am exaggerating, we are not struggling, we are actually going about our own business of working on our respective creative endeavors, working out, going to classes and drop ins, getting manicures...
Manicures - now that's something to talk about. Campbell, before he left, showed up with the nicest, cleanest fingernails you have ever seen on a guy. He was all smiles - "Only fifteen bucks" He encouraged me to get one too and I said no, so he put $20 in my hand and sent me down to the Vietnamese family run business on Santa Monica. Of course, J wasn't going to let me get a manicure without her getting one too.
A lovely young lady got me settled while a handsome young lad took care of J. Suddenly the girl was gone and replaced by a rather abrasive, ugly young flamer. Now I dont know about you guys, but if I am going to take the big step to metro by getting my nails done, I don't want a guy doing them, gay or not. I asked for the girl to come back and thankfully they obliged. Luckily her English was terrible so I could just sit back and enjoy the delight of being pampered. Unfortunately, she didn't understand me when I said "No polish". She meant that to be "Polish". Anyway, the three of us went to the Coffee Bean and admired each others' glossy nails. Another day in West Hollywood.
Before I forget, more star sightings! J is for sure winning with a major sighting of Neve Campbell in a local eatery although C had numerous sightings of obscure actors from the TV present and past. I had the misfortune of seeing Andy Dick once again. C and I were thrilled to meet and be in the lovely home of Donna Mills, star of Knots Landing. We also met Fisher Stevens (actor who once dated Michelle Pfeiffer) who has an academy award nom for a major doc this year about the dolphin trade in Japan. Then there was Francis Fisher (wife of Clint) who J & I spotted at a Marianne Williamson lecture. Oh, and Marianne herself of course.
Marianne authored "A Return to Love" and is one of our heroes. She just happens to be back in LA after 12 years and wants to give back to the community - so she gives pay what you can lectures every Tues night at a theater about 5 minutes from here. Frustrated as one can get in the rat race called Hollywood, one is reminded of the truly important things on these Tuesdays - to meditate, stay close to your source, to love and remember who we really are and why we are really here. Much as my ego keeps telling me it is to make the next Seinfeld, it is really just to spread the love, baby.
Patrick brought his "Actor", the SAG award he got for Glee to class last Wednesday and jeez is that thing heavy! That boy is proud and so he should be. We had a great talk about the biz at Cat and Fiddle on Thursday and it made me want to go for it even more. Just gotta get that visa. Good news is that my new hotshot New York lawyer thinks I have a good shot at it. Bring on the paperwork!
J and I had our first drop in with Barbara Deutsch, renowned entertainment biz coach. Good kick in the ass. Thanks to a contact there, J now has an audition for the most happening music cabaret in LA! My task was to go to Samual French and research managers and agents. Holy crap - do not, I repeat, do not go to this bookstore with your wallet if you are an actor, filmmaker, director, producer, musician, film buff, etc, etc. The temptation is too great and you will leave broke (but armed with all the imperative info you need to make it and make it big!) I have never seen the volume or variety of such books in my life. Wow. I could easily have left there with the entire Hollywood Creative Directory and thirty other great titles - but I resisted. I will have to rely on my slowly but surely expanding circle of contacts.
Had a few "meetings" this week. Most notable was the one with my cousin's attorney. I was to meet them at a bar on Melrose but when I got there, cop cars were blocking off the entire strip and red lights were flashing everywhere. They wouldn't tell me what was happening and they wouldn't let me on the street so I went down a back alley and convinced the Mexican cooks to let me go through the kitchen. About five minutes in, the music stopped and the manager announced that we must all evacuate. There was a car on the street with a suspected bomb. Rather than panic, my cous's lawywer insisted they get their burgers, for which they'd been waiting a very long time for. Everyone left while we waited for the cook to pack 'em up to go.
Burgers in hand, we left and there was a great buzz on the street. Everyone was talking to each other. Several New Yorkers said it reminded them of being in NY again. Someone said actor/musician Jared Leto was doing a screening of a documentary when some guy came in with a suspicious package. The bomb squad was called in. Check out this link.
http://www.mtv.com/news/articles/1631430/20100205/30_seconds_to_mars.jhtml
My cousin's attorney's car was parked right on the street beside the suspicious car and he wanted to move it but the cop said no way. "Hey, I know my rights". He started going toward it and all of us had to remind him this wasn't a negotiation for some movie deal - this was the bomb squad and they were not going to let him get his car. Now that's the kind of tenacious attorney I want on my team. In fact, it would just be cool to say I have an "attorney".
"Sorry I flaked out". Apparently this is a legitimate excuse in LA, a reliable source told me. Sometimes you arrange to meet someone and they just don't show up. A few days later you might get a call from them saying "Sorry man, I flaked out.". There is nothing you can do, especially if this is an important contact.
So right now I want to apologize for being rather tardy with the latest installment of this blog. I flaked out man. Sorry.
Okay, so I have a potential attorney now and another friend from Vancouver is trying to set me up with a manager. My Canadian agent tells me no managers are taking on new clients until the economy improves. But apparently you don't need a manager anyway. If you're a great actor, someone will see you. If you have a good script, all you have to do is talk about it and it will eventually make it's way around this town. And someone will option it. But you cannot rest. If you want to make it in LA, you must always be on the ball - for that record exec or agent from William Morris might just be sitting next to you at the Yogurt Stop and you had better have something funny to say and your pitch ready.
Now that the car siren that has been blaring for the past half hour has finally stopped, I will go and wake up J and we will have a breakfast meeting - or maybe just breakfast.
Friday, January 22, 2010
A Darkness Has Fallen
Yes, LA is black. Dark, dreary, windy and wet. Nobody is on the street, the patios are empty. Don't try driving because people are angry and upset and they will take it out on you.
Speaking of empty, Campbell - our one man show temporary roommate - took a bus to Staples Center yesterday (to see the Kings get pummeled by the Sharks). The bus went straight through downtown and to his utter bemusement - the place was abandoned. No stores, no Starbucks, no iPhones, hardly any cars. Nothing. Just big buildings and empty streets. Someone told there are some thirty thousands homeless wondering around downtown LA. They must have all been hiding from the rain.
Back here at the ranch it was laundry day and as we maneuvered around the puddles in the laundry room my eye caught an off-white coupe driving out of the garage. Yesterday we decided to look under the canopy of the mystery car we supposed might be Sir Ben's. We were a little disappointed to find no Porche, no Ferrari or Maserati. Just a white T-Bird. Still a hell of a nice car. Maybe Ben likes T-Birds. Anyway, there was the car driving away and I leaped forward to see who was driving... but it was through the gate in a flash. I ran forward - just a glimpse - it turned the corner - gone. Later the car was parked again, this time uncovered. Could Ben be back?
Now that Elena (who I failed to mention is our hairdresser/friend from Vancouver), after a successful Golden Globe party crash - has gone back with Paul Armstrong and Karin to Vancouver, things are a lot quieter here and we have settled into our routines.
Campbell has been working with Larry Gilman on his new show "Bag of Suck". J is working hard on her music, getting back in shape for performance - and I am finishing off a final draft of "Hot For Nirvana" to be submitted to my producer and distributor in Canada ASAP. Today C & I have a meeting with Dan Fauci to talk about how to pitch our TV Series "Touchy Feely". My agent called and I have to tape an audition for a small part in a Seth Rogan comedy - shooting in Vancouver of course. Maybe I'll see you all sooner than later.
But oh, how different LA is in this rain! It's the largest rainfall in 29 years and the city can't handle it. Everything is overflowing and gushing and there is fear of big mud slides in the hills. LA LA Land is drowning.
We have become the official complainers of the building. That's right, the Canadians! No one else has bothered to notify the office about the crappy dryers in the laundry room. You put in a dollar and you get sixty minutes of lame, luke warm tumbling. Yesterday Campbell spent almost the entire day in and out of there - switching clothes between machines desperate for some semblance of dryness. We complained and the laundry co. was summoned. A very surly guy came and ripped everything apart and sure enough, they were totally clogged up and the belts were toast. A lady said they hadn't worked in months. Now the whole room is out of order. But something is being done. You want to get action - ask a Canadian.
While Campbell was doing his day of hell in the laundry room, he saw the white TBird drive in and park. Here was the big moment of truth. Sure enough, a British Man emerged. But he was not bald and he was not Ben Kingsley.
A biker sat next to me at Starbucks and seeing that I was working on a script started to ask me about screenplay software. He has stories - needs to write them. He does special skill riding in a TV show but thinks he should be hired as an actor. Everyone is going for it here.
Speaking of empty, Campbell - our one man show temporary roommate - took a bus to Staples Center yesterday (to see the Kings get pummeled by the Sharks). The bus went straight through downtown and to his utter bemusement - the place was abandoned. No stores, no Starbucks, no iPhones, hardly any cars. Nothing. Just big buildings and empty streets. Someone told there are some thirty thousands homeless wondering around downtown LA. They must have all been hiding from the rain.
Back here at the ranch it was laundry day and as we maneuvered around the puddles in the laundry room my eye caught an off-white coupe driving out of the garage. Yesterday we decided to look under the canopy of the mystery car we supposed might be Sir Ben's. We were a little disappointed to find no Porche, no Ferrari or Maserati. Just a white T-Bird. Still a hell of a nice car. Maybe Ben likes T-Birds. Anyway, there was the car driving away and I leaped forward to see who was driving... but it was through the gate in a flash. I ran forward - just a glimpse - it turned the corner - gone. Later the car was parked again, this time uncovered. Could Ben be back?
Now that Elena (who I failed to mention is our hairdresser/friend from Vancouver), after a successful Golden Globe party crash - has gone back with Paul Armstrong and Karin to Vancouver, things are a lot quieter here and we have settled into our routines.
Campbell has been working with Larry Gilman on his new show "Bag of Suck". J is working hard on her music, getting back in shape for performance - and I am finishing off a final draft of "Hot For Nirvana" to be submitted to my producer and distributor in Canada ASAP. Today C & I have a meeting with Dan Fauci to talk about how to pitch our TV Series "Touchy Feely". My agent called and I have to tape an audition for a small part in a Seth Rogan comedy - shooting in Vancouver of course. Maybe I'll see you all sooner than later.
But oh, how different LA is in this rain! It's the largest rainfall in 29 years and the city can't handle it. Everything is overflowing and gushing and there is fear of big mud slides in the hills. LA LA Land is drowning.
We have become the official complainers of the building. That's right, the Canadians! No one else has bothered to notify the office about the crappy dryers in the laundry room. You put in a dollar and you get sixty minutes of lame, luke warm tumbling. Yesterday Campbell spent almost the entire day in and out of there - switching clothes between machines desperate for some semblance of dryness. We complained and the laundry co. was summoned. A very surly guy came and ripped everything apart and sure enough, they were totally clogged up and the belts were toast. A lady said they hadn't worked in months. Now the whole room is out of order. But something is being done. You want to get action - ask a Canadian.
While Campbell was doing his day of hell in the laundry room, he saw the white TBird drive in and park. Here was the big moment of truth. Sure enough, a British Man emerged. But he was not bald and he was not Ben Kingsley.
A biker sat next to me at Starbucks and seeing that I was working on a script started to ask me about screenplay software. He has stories - needs to write them. He does special skill riding in a TV show but thinks he should be hired as an actor. Everyone is going for it here.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
It's a Xenophobic World After All...
Last time I was at Disneyland, I was six. From what I can remember, not much has changed. Except there's a new theme park across the way called "California Adventureland" which I read has been a bit of a flop, since its theme is southern California and who needs to see a fake Hollywood sign when the real one is only miles away? This is indicative of the xenophobic attitude that still defines America and particularly Disneyland. Why not set the adventure in some exotic place instead of their own dreary backyard? The effort to deny this reality is sadly apparent in the old favorite, bittersweet, sad yet heartwarming exhibit/ride called "It's a Small World After All".
You are on a boat that slowly (oh so slowly) winds around creepy yet somehow charming displays of dolls of every ethnicity as depicted in various Disney movies; Arabs on flying carpets, Chinese from the Ming Dynasty, Dutch with their wooden shoes and bonnets... (didn't see any Canadian dolls which was a surprise seeing as Disney owns the image of the Mounties) - while the endless drone of "It's a Small World After All" plays incessantly with a sickening Christmas theme blended in. Yes, it's a very small world from the viewpoint of Disney Hollywood - and the rest of the world is made up of little cute dolls in colorful costumes.
There were other sad, dated rides like "Star Wars" where you are seated in a theater that rocks and jolts you through simulated space while an annoying R2D2 yaps Star Wars dribble. It took all my will power to stop from throwing up my lunch.
There were some good rides too: "Raider of the Lost Ark", "Matterhorn" and best of all, "Space Mountain" which takes you on an exhilarating roller coaster ride through almost pitch black punctuated by planets and stars. We did that one three times.
While Campbell, J and I reverted to our adolescence, Elena reverted to preteen screeching excitement, making us take pictures at every single ride and exhibit. The big highlight for us all was seeing Mickey's house and actually meeting Mickey! Although somehow, we got separated and Elena got her photo with an alternate Mickey.
Great day but suffice to say, I won't need to go back there for another thirty or so years. Maybe they'll have some new stuff by that time. Still, one can't be depressed after a day in Disneyland - and maybe that's the idea.
Oh, one other thing. There is a robot Lincoln who appears from behind a red curtain. He stands up and reads the Gettysburg Address. I've never really listened to it and frankly I was moved. Talking about the freedom that Americans hold so dearly, he said that no one in the world could take that freedom away - not even the most formidable attack on American soil could do it. Only Americans themselves could take away their own freedom. Wow, this guy was so ahead of his time and how those words have been misconstrued into a national psyche of fear. But I won't get into politics - not yet anyway. And don't get me started on health care...
FROZEN YOGURT: LA is so far ahead of the game in terms of trends, especially food trends. Here, you get frozen yogurt by weight. It's all about choice and getting exactly what you want. If you want $3.48 worth of yogurt (with choice of several dozen delectable toppings) that's what you get. We got our FYs, sat on a deck and watched the scene in Boys Town on a hopping Friday night. No need to pay cover charges for great entertainment.
STAR SIGHTINGS: Definitely slowed down this week but we made up for it today with a total fluke sighting of Canadian home boy Michael Cera carrying an ironing board on a Silver Lake street. He checked us out and gave us a nice smile. Must have been the BC plates.
I am starting to get the hang of the iPhone and its awesome power. I'm beginning to think it can do everything, including getting me a manager and selling my script and TV series.
This no TV thing is getting to us - so I got a subscription to the LA Times and we connected to J's Dad's TV through our computer by some miracle of technology called "Sling Box". We caught the last half hour of the Golden Globes which was happening just two miles from us at the Beverly Hilton. There was talk of crashing - but it never really materialized and it started raining buckets. Elena called around 11 and announced she was giving it a try. Security there is crazy and there was no way. Paris Hilton got kicked out last year for trying. We got a text a half hour later from Elena saying she was in. We are still waiting for reports.
Apparently it is going to keep raining - all week - record rain falls for LA and they have already started handing out sandbags to those in vulnerable areas. For us it just feels like home and it's the perfect weather to start to get to work.
Campbell started working on his show with Larry this week. I started to put together my package for managers. J worked on sexying up her wardrobe and organizing her charts. We got almost everything on our to do list done. We are ready for action. Ready to take LA by storm!
Eh in LA
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Fridgeless in LA
Six months in LA - dream big or go home.
Here's how it all started: Last August, our honeymoon in LA - we said "Let's do it. Let's give it a shot." I said no way, not without everything in place, not without papers and an agent and manager and solid prospects. That's how I work.
But getting all that in place would take at least six months. . So why not just go and take a risk, see what happens?
Because it's foolish and naive and financially risky - that's the "rational" voice, who I will call "Harold". Harold says, "Think about how many people have done it this way and failed miserably, come home with their tail between their legs..." etc. etc. He is right of course. Millions have tried and become disillusioned. But I've been rational my whole life and where has it got me? Safe. Well safe makes me sick folks, so let's try something new and bold - and if it's foolish, then call me a fool. No more comfort zone for me, I'm a fool in LA
So what is it I want to do here? I can't think about that right now. Too many details to think about - like buying a fridge. And too many stories to tell. Like our flight - and how J's jaw dropped when the security people told us we had to take the cats out of the carriers and bring them with us through the scanner. "What if they get scared and jump away?" I tried to remain calm, even though I was worried too - Pooka especially is unpredictable at the best of times. I looked around at the throngs of poor passengers, waiting to be grilled and felt up in the new age of paranoid air travel. "One of them will catch her."
There were about 10 lines. I saw a lovely chatty younger lady with a nice smile. I picked her line. Turned out she was a cat owner herself and she put J at ease. I grabbed on to Metta with all my might and went through. She didn't move. Neither did Pook. They were too freaked to be scared. I'm sure the kiddie Gravol we gave them helped.
Look, I am not a cat person. But J is. They are her babies. The next day, our first in LA, I went down to the local Starbucks to scope out Craigslist for a fridge. When I got back, J looked all red and raw. "Oh my God, I'm so embarrassed..." Apparently she couldn't find Pook and assumed she had sneaked out the door when either I or Campbell had left. She rushed out still in her nightie, furiously scanning the hood, yelling for Pook, frantically enlisting the help of several friendly neighbors who were more than willing to help a pet loving freaked out lady.
Turns out Pook was just hiding behind the couch.
Monday: We desperately need a fridge. Why people take their fridges with them when they move in LA is beyond me. Everybody's lugging around these huge monsters, buying and selling them - there's even a side business for fridge movers - fifty bucks they'll move your fridge anywhere in town. Anyway, we need one. Some landlord Jesse says he's going to sell me his fridge and deliver it. We arrange everything - 8 pm. He never comes. He won't answer his phone. I go over to the hotel and steal some ice and we get an overpriced styro foam bucket from the local store - and we're set with a few eggs and butter for breakfast. Camping out in LA.
We have decided to not get a TV. This should help us maximize our creative time in LA. Which has made it even more desperate for us to get connected to internet. I am furiously attempting to that set up, plus US cel phones and a home line. Basically it is hell trying to organize anything like this when you are from out of the US of A and don't have a social security #. Good thing they always end the call with a friendly "Have a great day!" Disconnected in LA.
Tues:
Campbell is staying with us - he's going to finish writing his one man show and Larry is going to direct him. Campbell drove our car down arriving on Jan 1 and when he got here he was shocked - he couldn't spot a straight person. "This is like the West End times 10!". Yes, we live in the heart of "Boys Town". Which means we have especially friendly neighbors. Which means I get checked out instead of J - now that's a refreshing switch. Campbell and I are the new boys in town and we're getting a lot of attention.
West Hollywood, where we live, is fantastic. Just steps to the famous Sunset Strip and a few minutes drive to Beverly Hills, the Beverly Center, the Grove and Farmer's Market and Hollywood, we have it all. Quiet, quaint and well governed, I think we live in the best part of LA. The Starbucks on the corner is a hotbed of writers, directors, musicians and other (mostly gay) movers and shakers. You can overhear them making deals and working on projects. Great place for me to make important connections. Up on the strip, the Coffee Bean is another hangout for the rich and famous. These will be my offices away from home in the coming months. I have also heard that hanging out at the Starbucks outside the Directors Guild is a great place to run into the likes of Steven Spielberg or Jonathan Demme or Kevin Spacey...
Wed: Star Sightings: We have a competition. So far Campbell has seen: Amber Smith of Dr. Drew's Celeb Rehab and Sex Rebab; Evan Handler of Californication and Sex in the City. We have spotted Katey Segal from Married With Children, Bill Maher, and our favorite - Andy Dick (Celebrity Rehab). So it's 3 to 2 us. I know, B list - but we'll take what we can get.
We were at the Farmer's Market and we came upon a fight breaking out. There was punching and yelling and pretty soon a loud voice yelling "Security! Security!!". Pretty soon a paparazzi was running like a bat out of hell to the perimeter of the market. He was still shooting video. The security started chasing him. Then we saw Andy Dick scurrying away. One of the security guards - a Neanderthal looking guy, tried to cuff the paparazzi and confiscate his camera - but the good cop guard calmed him down. A Mexican lady was freaking out - "It was the celebrity's fault - he was hitting him - this is no right!". J took the opportunity to casually pose in the sight line of the Paparazzi's camera just in case it got on TMZ. We never checked because our internet still wasn't hooked up.
Thurs: Apparently Ben Kingsley lives in our building. That's right, Sir Ben. According to Maria, our Romanian landlord, he is a very, very nice man. Haven't spotted him yet but I may have spotted his car - a veiled Porche (I think) sitting in the parking spot right next to ours. Just a hunch. I also have a hunch he is in England and won't be back until the big publicity blitz for his latest movie. I have no idea what to say to him if I meet him in the elevator. Do I call him Ben? Sir Ben? Neighbor? Do I ask him to play the guru in my movie? I'm sure I will make a fool of myself in any case. But hey, I am a fool in LA, so I'm fine with that.
First Accident. We decide to take a break from our high speed nesting process (we must get everything in order so we can get to work next week!), and Campbell's incessant writing. We go to Santa Monica and as I am pulling into the parkade, Campbell says, "Hey, there's a meter on the street!" I reverse and BANG! I have rear ended my own rear end. Shit!!!! I get out to inspect the damage. Of course, it's a Mercedes Benz and I have clearly dinged his front bumper. The rather cool and collected grey haired man gets out, looks at my Audi and sees there is a good dent on the front bumper. Shakes his head. Looks at his own car. "Yeah, you scraped me a bit too." I stand there feeling like a complete idiot - stupid Canadian. He gives his head a little shake. "Know what, why don't we just forget it." Incredulous, I look at J who is getting out the car. She nods a definite "yes!". Okay. So we let it go. Welcome to LA. I have a dent in my Audi. So much for pulling up for a lunch at Chi Chi and looking cool. I thank the Mercedes owner profusely. He says, "Have a great day.".
Why does everybody in LA say "Have a great day."? I am really not sure yet. But it is encouraging. In general people here are incredibly friendly. Maybe it's the great weather. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Maybe it's just - well - nice. Maybe it's - if you don't make it today, if you don't land the big deal, have a spectacular meeting, get the audition, sell the screenplay - at least have yourself a great day. After all, it's sunny here all the time and who can be depressed when it's sunny?
J and I both get a text. Elena is coming! Elena has arrived! Elena is going out tonight with a bunch of people we should meet! Thursday night, she says, is the real party night for the stars because Fri and Sat the regular people go out. We must come! And the Texans are in town!
Texans? Yes the city is swarming with them and every hotel is booked, including the one opposite us - the cowboys hooting and hollering from their balconies. It's game time!
We arrive at the swank Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood around ten and sure enough the pool bar is filled with disappointed Texans who just lost the BCS Championship Bowl to Alabama. It's a disappointing atmosphere but they are still drinking to take away the pain. Paul Armstrong is in town and he's making deals . He is going to introduce me to some people who might help me with Hot For Nirvana. We take an early leave and promise to meet them Friday night.
Friday: Modem finally arrives and although it takes me hours of speaking to an overly polite techie in Bangladesh, I get the thing on line. We are in business! While shopping at Target, Larry Gilman phones. Dan Fauci is directing a web show and wants us to come down Saturday. Might be an part for me - or maybe Dan wants me on the crew - not sure, just come on down to Culver City.
Friday night we meet near here at an upscale bar where drinks cost minimum $13. Paul is there and introduces me to Frank who is an independent producer who is still looking for the big home run project. Thinks he might be able to help me. We exchange numbers. We see Jesse Rosenberg (Adventureland) walk in with a nap sack.
Elena wants to go to a club and Dave, who is also there, knows people. We decline feeling like the effort of getting to Hollywood, parking, paying for expensive drinks - won't be worth it - plus I have to get up to go to my potential first LA acting gig. We go outside and I realize I am missing fifty bucks! I go back, look everywhere. I'm really pissesd with myself - but all this US money looks the same and it's easy to give a waiter a 50 instead of a 5. And the prick waiter we had would never fess up.
I've given up, feeling defeated and foolish and we start walking home when J casually hands me a fifty dollar bill! "I just found it on the sidewalk but didn't want to shout it out in case it wasn't yours." Well of course it was mine! I am truly relieved becasuse frankly, the biggest stress I have is money. Will I have enough to get us through 6 months? And the expenses just keep racking up. Harold reminds me - "Idiot Canadian goes to Hollywood and spends all his savings -comes back with nothing but a bunch of useless phone numbers in his iPhone." I tell Harold to "shut the #$%#@ up!"
iPhone: Everyone here has one. Nobody is present, they all have their faces buried in this miraculous gadget - feeling like they are connecting to others - but are they? Is this real connection? In a way I loathe the smart phone, but I am in LA and I think I need one.
First it was supposed to be J's father's old phone I was to inherit. But I refused - I wanted something better. After checking out all the available phones here, nothing looked sexy enough. What I really want, but can't afford (says Harold) is an iPhone. I've been wanting one for years now. Just so happens our guy Bobby at the cel store on Melrose just got a used one in - 3 months old. I say I can't afford it and we drive half way around LA looking for a cheaper alternative when J and I have a heart to heart. "Look she says, if you really want the iPhone, you should just get it - you could use part of your clothing fund for it." My eyes light up. Do I deserve it though? "Go run around the parking lot with your hands in the air and shout - I deserve an iPhone!". I do it. I actually do it - and people are watching. "Did it land?" J asks. I nod, "Yes, it landed. Now lets go get that friggin' phone before someone else does!"
Saturday: We all head down to Culver City - me, J, Campbell and my new iPhone - and it's great to see Larry. Dan looks stressed. He comes out for lunch and confesses directing is not his thing, but no one else would do it. This is a web cast about an art collector who makes dishes out of materials from radioactive sites like Chernobyl. It's starring TV actors Patrick Bree and Alisa Donovan. Dan confers with Larry and Patrick and I am to play Michael Ovitz (from behind). The shoot is quick and easy and there we are - my first LA gig in the bag! No bucks but hey, the first one's always free. Before we leave, Campbell arranges to meet with Larry for his play. I arrange to meet with Dan to talk about our own TV series - "Touchy Feely".
Later: We drive down to Melrose to clothes shop. Yes this is a necessity because to be successful in LA, one must be dressed for LA. J decides to call Elena to see how her night went. Well J must be psychic because Elena has just been dropped off - like 2 blocks away! We meet up and she tells us the club was great - Dave knew everyone and they were treated like VIPs - all drinks paid for. At one point she was talking to a cute guy who she learned later, was from Entourage. She's never watched it. Turns out she was hanging with Adrian Grenier. She was telling him her friend knew people and could get them into other clubs. Adrian must have loved that.
"Well shit - we should have gone after all" J said, looking disappointed. Adrian would be great as the lead in Hot For Nirvana. "Yeah" said I, "For about 4 million.". J hates it when I say things like that. Limiting beliefs. She is right. Maybe Adrian is dying to play a celibate Krishna who meets and falls in love with an East Indian stripper. Anyway, I have a feeling we will run into him again.
We have been in LA one week. Feels like a month. Feels like a big dream. So much possibility, so many people, so many cars, so much to do. We pretty much have the apartment in order. We are connected. I have an iPhone. We have a fridge. Next week we start working on the creative stuff, on the careers. As I write this it is raining for the first time since we got here. Kind of a relief. Reminds me of home and dear friends. But before the work begins in earnest - there is one more big thing we must take care of. A place we have to go. It's called Disneyland...
Here's how it all started: Last August, our honeymoon in LA - we said "Let's do it. Let's give it a shot." I said no way, not without everything in place, not without papers and an agent and manager and solid prospects. That's how I work.
But getting all that in place would take at least six months. . So why not just go and take a risk, see what happens?
Because it's foolish and naive and financially risky - that's the "rational" voice, who I will call "Harold". Harold says, "Think about how many people have done it this way and failed miserably, come home with their tail between their legs..." etc. etc. He is right of course. Millions have tried and become disillusioned. But I've been rational my whole life and where has it got me? Safe. Well safe makes me sick folks, so let's try something new and bold - and if it's foolish, then call me a fool. No more comfort zone for me, I'm a fool in LA
So what is it I want to do here? I can't think about that right now. Too many details to think about - like buying a fridge. And too many stories to tell. Like our flight - and how J's jaw dropped when the security people told us we had to take the cats out of the carriers and bring them with us through the scanner. "What if they get scared and jump away?" I tried to remain calm, even though I was worried too - Pooka especially is unpredictable at the best of times. I looked around at the throngs of poor passengers, waiting to be grilled and felt up in the new age of paranoid air travel. "One of them will catch her."
There were about 10 lines. I saw a lovely chatty younger lady with a nice smile. I picked her line. Turned out she was a cat owner herself and she put J at ease. I grabbed on to Metta with all my might and went through. She didn't move. Neither did Pook. They were too freaked to be scared. I'm sure the kiddie Gravol we gave them helped.
Look, I am not a cat person. But J is. They are her babies. The next day, our first in LA, I went down to the local Starbucks to scope out Craigslist for a fridge. When I got back, J looked all red and raw. "Oh my God, I'm so embarrassed..." Apparently she couldn't find Pook and assumed she had sneaked out the door when either I or Campbell had left. She rushed out still in her nightie, furiously scanning the hood, yelling for Pook, frantically enlisting the help of several friendly neighbors who were more than willing to help a pet loving freaked out lady.
Turns out Pook was just hiding behind the couch.
Monday: We desperately need a fridge. Why people take their fridges with them when they move in LA is beyond me. Everybody's lugging around these huge monsters, buying and selling them - there's even a side business for fridge movers - fifty bucks they'll move your fridge anywhere in town. Anyway, we need one. Some landlord Jesse says he's going to sell me his fridge and deliver it. We arrange everything - 8 pm. He never comes. He won't answer his phone. I go over to the hotel and steal some ice and we get an overpriced styro foam bucket from the local store - and we're set with a few eggs and butter for breakfast. Camping out in LA.
We have decided to not get a TV. This should help us maximize our creative time in LA. Which has made it even more desperate for us to get connected to internet. I am furiously attempting to that set up, plus US cel phones and a home line. Basically it is hell trying to organize anything like this when you are from out of the US of A and don't have a social security #. Good thing they always end the call with a friendly "Have a great day!" Disconnected in LA.
Tues:
Campbell is staying with us - he's going to finish writing his one man show and Larry is going to direct him. Campbell drove our car down arriving on Jan 1 and when he got here he was shocked - he couldn't spot a straight person. "This is like the West End times 10!". Yes, we live in the heart of "Boys Town". Which means we have especially friendly neighbors. Which means I get checked out instead of J - now that's a refreshing switch. Campbell and I are the new boys in town and we're getting a lot of attention.
West Hollywood, where we live, is fantastic. Just steps to the famous Sunset Strip and a few minutes drive to Beverly Hills, the Beverly Center, the Grove and Farmer's Market and Hollywood, we have it all. Quiet, quaint and well governed, I think we live in the best part of LA. The Starbucks on the corner is a hotbed of writers, directors, musicians and other (mostly gay) movers and shakers. You can overhear them making deals and working on projects. Great place for me to make important connections. Up on the strip, the Coffee Bean is another hangout for the rich and famous. These will be my offices away from home in the coming months. I have also heard that hanging out at the Starbucks outside the Directors Guild is a great place to run into the likes of Steven Spielberg or Jonathan Demme or Kevin Spacey...
Wed: Star Sightings: We have a competition. So far Campbell has seen: Amber Smith of Dr. Drew's Celeb Rehab and Sex Rebab; Evan Handler of Californication and Sex in the City. We have spotted Katey Segal from Married With Children, Bill Maher, and our favorite - Andy Dick (Celebrity Rehab). So it's 3 to 2 us. I know, B list - but we'll take what we can get.
We were at the Farmer's Market and we came upon a fight breaking out. There was punching and yelling and pretty soon a loud voice yelling "Security! Security!!". Pretty soon a paparazzi was running like a bat out of hell to the perimeter of the market. He was still shooting video. The security started chasing him. Then we saw Andy Dick scurrying away. One of the security guards - a Neanderthal looking guy, tried to cuff the paparazzi and confiscate his camera - but the good cop guard calmed him down. A Mexican lady was freaking out - "It was the celebrity's fault - he was hitting him - this is no right!". J took the opportunity to casually pose in the sight line of the Paparazzi's camera just in case it got on TMZ. We never checked because our internet still wasn't hooked up.
Thurs: Apparently Ben Kingsley lives in our building. That's right, Sir Ben. According to Maria, our Romanian landlord, he is a very, very nice man. Haven't spotted him yet but I may have spotted his car - a veiled Porche (I think) sitting in the parking spot right next to ours. Just a hunch. I also have a hunch he is in England and won't be back until the big publicity blitz for his latest movie. I have no idea what to say to him if I meet him in the elevator. Do I call him Ben? Sir Ben? Neighbor? Do I ask him to play the guru in my movie? I'm sure I will make a fool of myself in any case. But hey, I am a fool in LA, so I'm fine with that.
First Accident. We decide to take a break from our high speed nesting process (we must get everything in order so we can get to work next week!), and Campbell's incessant writing. We go to Santa Monica and as I am pulling into the parkade, Campbell says, "Hey, there's a meter on the street!" I reverse and BANG! I have rear ended my own rear end. Shit!!!! I get out to inspect the damage. Of course, it's a Mercedes Benz and I have clearly dinged his front bumper. The rather cool and collected grey haired man gets out, looks at my Audi and sees there is a good dent on the front bumper. Shakes his head. Looks at his own car. "Yeah, you scraped me a bit too." I stand there feeling like a complete idiot - stupid Canadian. He gives his head a little shake. "Know what, why don't we just forget it." Incredulous, I look at J who is getting out the car. She nods a definite "yes!". Okay. So we let it go. Welcome to LA. I have a dent in my Audi. So much for pulling up for a lunch at Chi Chi and looking cool. I thank the Mercedes owner profusely. He says, "Have a great day.".
Why does everybody in LA say "Have a great day."? I am really not sure yet. But it is encouraging. In general people here are incredibly friendly. Maybe it's the great weather. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Maybe it's just - well - nice. Maybe it's - if you don't make it today, if you don't land the big deal, have a spectacular meeting, get the audition, sell the screenplay - at least have yourself a great day. After all, it's sunny here all the time and who can be depressed when it's sunny?
J and I both get a text. Elena is coming! Elena has arrived! Elena is going out tonight with a bunch of people we should meet! Thursday night, she says, is the real party night for the stars because Fri and Sat the regular people go out. We must come! And the Texans are in town!
Texans? Yes the city is swarming with them and every hotel is booked, including the one opposite us - the cowboys hooting and hollering from their balconies. It's game time!
We arrive at the swank Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood around ten and sure enough the pool bar is filled with disappointed Texans who just lost the BCS Championship Bowl to Alabama. It's a disappointing atmosphere but they are still drinking to take away the pain. Paul Armstrong is in town and he's making deals . He is going to introduce me to some people who might help me with Hot For Nirvana. We take an early leave and promise to meet them Friday night.
Friday: Modem finally arrives and although it takes me hours of speaking to an overly polite techie in Bangladesh, I get the thing on line. We are in business! While shopping at Target, Larry Gilman phones. Dan Fauci is directing a web show and wants us to come down Saturday. Might be an part for me - or maybe Dan wants me on the crew - not sure, just come on down to Culver City.
Friday night we meet near here at an upscale bar where drinks cost minimum $13. Paul is there and introduces me to Frank who is an independent producer who is still looking for the big home run project. Thinks he might be able to help me. We exchange numbers. We see Jesse Rosenberg (Adventureland) walk in with a nap sack.
Elena wants to go to a club and Dave, who is also there, knows people. We decline feeling like the effort of getting to Hollywood, parking, paying for expensive drinks - won't be worth it - plus I have to get up to go to my potential first LA acting gig. We go outside and I realize I am missing fifty bucks! I go back, look everywhere. I'm really pissesd with myself - but all this US money looks the same and it's easy to give a waiter a 50 instead of a 5. And the prick waiter we had would never fess up.
I've given up, feeling defeated and foolish and we start walking home when J casually hands me a fifty dollar bill! "I just found it on the sidewalk but didn't want to shout it out in case it wasn't yours." Well of course it was mine! I am truly relieved becasuse frankly, the biggest stress I have is money. Will I have enough to get us through 6 months? And the expenses just keep racking up. Harold reminds me - "Idiot Canadian goes to Hollywood and spends all his savings -comes back with nothing but a bunch of useless phone numbers in his iPhone." I tell Harold to "shut the #$%#@ up!"
iPhone: Everyone here has one. Nobody is present, they all have their faces buried in this miraculous gadget - feeling like they are connecting to others - but are they? Is this real connection? In a way I loathe the smart phone, but I am in LA and I think I need one.
First it was supposed to be J's father's old phone I was to inherit. But I refused - I wanted something better. After checking out all the available phones here, nothing looked sexy enough. What I really want, but can't afford (says Harold) is an iPhone. I've been wanting one for years now. Just so happens our guy Bobby at the cel store on Melrose just got a used one in - 3 months old. I say I can't afford it and we drive half way around LA looking for a cheaper alternative when J and I have a heart to heart. "Look she says, if you really want the iPhone, you should just get it - you could use part of your clothing fund for it." My eyes light up. Do I deserve it though? "Go run around the parking lot with your hands in the air and shout - I deserve an iPhone!". I do it. I actually do it - and people are watching. "Did it land?" J asks. I nod, "Yes, it landed. Now lets go get that friggin' phone before someone else does!"
Saturday: We all head down to Culver City - me, J, Campbell and my new iPhone - and it's great to see Larry. Dan looks stressed. He comes out for lunch and confesses directing is not his thing, but no one else would do it. This is a web cast about an art collector who makes dishes out of materials from radioactive sites like Chernobyl. It's starring TV actors Patrick Bree and Alisa Donovan. Dan confers with Larry and Patrick and I am to play Michael Ovitz (from behind). The shoot is quick and easy and there we are - my first LA gig in the bag! No bucks but hey, the first one's always free. Before we leave, Campbell arranges to meet with Larry for his play. I arrange to meet with Dan to talk about our own TV series - "Touchy Feely".
Later: We drive down to Melrose to clothes shop. Yes this is a necessity because to be successful in LA, one must be dressed for LA. J decides to call Elena to see how her night went. Well J must be psychic because Elena has just been dropped off - like 2 blocks away! We meet up and she tells us the club was great - Dave knew everyone and they were treated like VIPs - all drinks paid for. At one point she was talking to a cute guy who she learned later, was from Entourage. She's never watched it. Turns out she was hanging with Adrian Grenier. She was telling him her friend knew people and could get them into other clubs. Adrian must have loved that.
"Well shit - we should have gone after all" J said, looking disappointed. Adrian would be great as the lead in Hot For Nirvana. "Yeah" said I, "For about 4 million.". J hates it when I say things like that. Limiting beliefs. She is right. Maybe Adrian is dying to play a celibate Krishna who meets and falls in love with an East Indian stripper. Anyway, I have a feeling we will run into him again.
We have been in LA one week. Feels like a month. Feels like a big dream. So much possibility, so many people, so many cars, so much to do. We pretty much have the apartment in order. We are connected. I have an iPhone. We have a fridge. Next week we start working on the creative stuff, on the careers. As I write this it is raining for the first time since we got here. Kind of a relief. Reminds me of home and dear friends. But before the work begins in earnest - there is one more big thing we must take care of. A place we have to go. It's called Disneyland...
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