I saw a strange thing today. So... I took a picture. It will mean nothing to anyone else really. But it's a license plate. With my dead dad's initials. I probably should be taking pictures at xam as I go home but I was excited... I want that plate.In the meantime... I'm so tired. So. So. Very tired.
My own fault. If I choose to get into a hot tub at 2am and stay there for two hours and then drive home then I'm going to be shattered. Especially when I've got Mr X stuff to do in the morning. I wade through his schedule. It's quiet today. In fact, it's been quiet for a while.
The pool heater is working. Check. The TV remote is working. Check. The new scripts have been delivered. Check. Basically, Mr X has gone into isolation as he's finishing the final final shooting draft of his script. He doesn't want to be disturbed so the only thing I have to deal with, really, is answering the phone to the myriad of people who want a slice of him. This. This I can cope with.
By now I know who's important and who's not. Head of agency/important agent - check. Wannabe actor who met him in Chicago and would like to be seen for his next film - check. I know the difference. I'm dealing with the casting crew and team Mr X. Would that it were always this easy. Would that he were always writing because this calm is good. I'm breathing again. Thinking: "I'm going to be okay". There are stresses, naturally, with studios and actors and other people but... right now. Mr X and I are okay. We're not seeing each other. As long as a) his house doesn't flood or b) the pool heater keeps working and c) other household issues tick along. I'm going to be okay.
I know this day will come.
In the meantime, I've arranged to meet some guy. He's a friend of a friend in town. The friend, a girl, is keen for me to meet this guy. Why? I'm suspicious of course. Is this some kind of date? Is he even aware of this? I know nothing about him but his name. But. I know what it's like being new in town, or visiting, an English accent is, for me anyway, a welcome sound.
I've been invited to a party at Mr P and Ms S (who had invited me for Christmas very kindly - yay them) so I suggest we meet there.
Anyway, I suddenly realise I don’t have time to go home and change. Shit. I race to the Beverly Centre. I need to buy something killer. I’ve got no make up either. I race through. RACE. Then… I find this lovely woman and go: “Help. You’ve got 15 minutes to dress me. I need something killer.” Bless her, she comes up trumps. I leave. Head to Mac. They do my make up.
By 7.45pm I’m at Judy’s place doing my hair. I get a call from Ms S… “Are you still coming? We’re about to sit down to dinner.” DINNER? I thought it was a party. You know. Party? Shit! Dinner. Yum. Lots of thoughts. Food good. But ... Er. I can’t bring my 'date' to a dinner. I send him a text. Apologising. Can I take him for lunch tomorrow? Maybe? Shit. He says no worries. I’ve never met him but he seems cool.
But now… it’s 8pm. I’ve arrived at Ms S and Mr P. All made up. All wearing a dress. Over my jeans. It’s a v. casual occasion - I thought it was a ... you get the point. Oh well. My friend Mr S’s there. Thank god. I love Mr S. Probably a bit too much. As in. I think he’s great. Funny and clever. Possibly one of the few people in LA whom I think is cleverer than me. The evening is spent flirting with him. I go back to his house after dinner carrying a pinkberry. He shows me a clip of his new film on the laptop and then… I leave. I mean. I don’t know what to do. This is what happens to me when I like someone. I do a runner. So. Bosh. I fled down the hill back to mine.
The next day I'm meeting the girls for breakfast at Mel’s Diner in the Valley. I feel like I’m chasing my tail. No sooner do I arrive and then I have to turn around. I’m meeting the guy I blew off last night at Pain Le Quotidien. He’s there with his little (very little) brother. Random.
Anyway… he asks if I’d like to do something after lunch. Sure. But he suggests HIKING? Jews don’t hike. Ever. Anyway… I have some trainers in the car and we dump off his brother back home and off we set off for Franklin. I’m wheezing up the hill. WHEEZING. I am just not fit. Not fit at all. We get on well. But, still, this whole wheezing, unfit thing just isn’t working out for me at all. Still, at least I got to see another canyon. I want to return. I'm not sure about this meeting new peole and then wheezing up a hill with them. It's not good for the ego. I've not been off cigarettes for long but... who am I trying to kid? I wasn't that fit anyway.
We head back to our respective homes along Mulholland. Beep beep.
Of course. I knew I was getting too comfortable.
It's Mr X.
Tomorrow is another day.
No comments:
Post a Comment