What to do in Hollywood on Grammy night.

You can watch the shindig on TV or you can spend $500 on a ticket to the Nokia Center or... you can walk up to Sunset Blvd and hang out outside the Warner Music after party. Usually this doesn't work because security is as tight as Rihanna's gown. Even the paparazzi are not allowed, but somehow last night, Campbell, J and I sauntered past cops and a formidable security team and just blended in. We stood coolly right where all the limos and black Ford Escalades pull up to get checked in. Some of the talent got out there, others rolled down their windows. Over the course of a couple of hours, we got our fill of Grammy stars:

We saw Beyonce applying some last minute lip gloss, Bruno Mars stepped out for a smoke a few feet from us.  Seal, his window rolled down, literally sang for us as his limo crept by.  Jeff Beck hung out nearby. Producer legend David Foster nodded and smiled at J as if acknowledging a future star.

Neil Young - yes, the legend himself - walked right past us as I lamely cheered "Yay Ontario!" Not more than 5 minutes later he re-appeared from the party and we joked - "Great party, eh Neil?" He laughed, nodded and mumbled something, I think - "Best four minutes of my life." Then he and his entourage jumped back in his limo and took off.

Here's some other folks and bands we saw close up and personal:

Arcade Fire

Zack Brown Band

Vampire Weekend

Malan Akerman (27 Dresses)

Michelle Branch

Heidi Klum

Kathy Griffin

Florence and the Machine

Natasha Bedingfield

Black Keys
Jeffrey Ross

Eve
Paramore

Also plenty we recognized but couldn't place. And according to the security team - Christina Aguilera and the legend Quincy Jones passed by - damn those tinted windows!

Unfortunately, we could not take pictures - the price we paid for being allowed to hang out there and be cool with the security team, one of who complimented us for our stamina. "You guys are real troopers!"

After a while we went around the corner to Boa Steakhouse where a lone papparazzo started snapping pictures of our own J Hether. "Hey girl, how's it going, you're an artist, right?" She nodded and posed. "I knew it, I could see it."

Go Big, Go Home, Gome Back

Hello Blogfans,

You people have been asking me what's going on, what happened, why I stopped blogging - so many probing questions and I really do not have a good answer. All I can say is, you got to me, and so blog again I will and must.

It's been about 6 months since I last wrote here. What happened to the adventurous couple who left their homeland on a crazed if not foolish journey south of the border in search of the American Dream?

What happened is we went back home.

But then we came back.

Here is what I wrote sometime last August upon our return. Why I did not send it, I'm not sure. Maybe I needed a period of anonymity. Maybe I had nothing to say. Maybe I was afraid Homeland Security would change their minds (if they even have minds). In any case, here's what I wrote:

As most of you now know, we are not going coming home with our tails between our legs (especially because we do not have tails). We came home only to return, this time with paper in hand and feet just a little more planted on the hollowed Hollywood ground.


Yes we are legal! Against what I thought were insurmountable odds, I have been successful in acquiring that elusive "O1" visa - for an "alien of extraordinary ability in the arts of motion pictures and television" or - "Aeaampt". Whatever -it means I can get a social security # and work as an actor.


J gets the "O3 Visa" which allows her to exist in the USA legally as the non working spouse of a temporary non-immigrant worker or- "Nwsotniw"


When I think back on the six months, it's been a great ride. We scored an awesome apartment in West Hollywood and we met Paul McCartney on a hiking trail. Everything else was a bonus -  new friends, great frozen yogurt, fish tacos, Marianne Williamson and Dustin Hoffman lectures, Ben Kingsley in the laundry room, Jody Foster at Urth Cafe, Miley Cyrus at Gay Pride, Andy Dick everywhere (huh?)  - all our super fantastic visitors, Melrose shopping, crazy Sader, Red Rock happy hour, Disneyland, open mics and showcases... but mostly well - just the excitement of being where the action is. Taking a risk. Dreaming a bit.


So things take a turn now. Game is on. Stakes are raised.  At 50 - much like my old man did when he quit journalism and went to law school - I am shaking things up and creating a new beginning. I've done it before - moving from Ottawa to Toronto to open Song Bird 2 - then moving to Vancouver to embark on a 2nd career. This one feels like the biggest challenge yet. New strange country (they don't say "eh" here), lousy economy and with no real certainty of establishing myself here, I am forced to do what crazy religious people do - have blind faith, trust, pray


I will have much to report in the coming weeks and months. Blogs will be shorter but more frequent. Oh and by the way, the border people are very nice when you have your papers in order. They like aliens with papers. 


Okay, so I didn't exactly come through on that promise, but I will try my best, in the midst of a busy pilot season, to fire out some posts on a semi-regular basis. The journey continues and the suspense is palpable. Fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a crazy ride. Oh, did I mention it's 80 and sunny out there?


Eh in LA

What is Hollywood?

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 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?"

Half Time Check-In

Hard to believe it's already been three months in LA! - (and people still catch me uttering those "owts" and "abowts") - that's what you get for growing up in the Ottawa valley. My apologies for the long hiatus - I have been busy trying to make it before the big end of June gong goes off (and our visa runs out).

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

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!

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.