Break Down In Los Angeles

This might sound weird, but when I had my minor breakdown in Los Angeles last week, it was one of the best trips to the city I had ever taken. We stayed with Sara’s friend, Dhiya, over in Brentwood where we took in the sights of the Getty Museum and the Planetarium. The next morning I met up with Chris Littler and Liz Berger for brunch in West Hollywood and it all rounded out to be a good trip. But while stuck in traffic on the 101 I began to soak it all in: the people who’d had the guts to move from New York to Los Angeles and keep up with what they were doing. Isaac, another mutual friend of mine who lives with Chris and Liz, is working for a movie producers. All three of them are pitching a screenplay to him while working on a web series. I mean, they are productive and it made me feel lazy, along with missing them…wondering why we all left the East Coast…why I wasn’t creating cool shit like them and getting into the business of entertainment through hard work and stamina.

So now my mind is boiling over this in traffic, I’m late for a meeting with Justin to discuss a new venue that would be awesome, having just received an e-mail denying my application for the Hodder Fellowship, and I get a call from Sea World—finally—that I my “services will not be needed at this point in time”. The next hour came and went in near complete silence before I confessed to Sara about how angry I was about…well, everything. It was wearing me down as I’m sure it is wearing down everyone who hears me discuss it. In one swoop I was scared, shocked, piss off, sad, lost, and empty. Nice going, Los Angeles—and here I thought we were mending the days of yore which passed with such strife.

I stayed in bed for about fourteen hours, trying to push myself deeper into the self-pity abyss that I’d seen in many movies prior during my youth (to rub salt in my wounds, we had just watched “Swingers” the previous night and I’d laughed myself silly. Watching it now makes it all the more funny, but then I am reminded that they made a movie off that idea and are living the dream; I’m still the reality version of the Jon Favreau character). But in the end, I only lasted until about noon, got back on the horse, and tried my best to swallow my pride about why my life has gone in a completely different direction than the one I had originally laid out for it.

That week broke the mold in many ways. It was the worst week I’ve had since being unemployed in Southern California, but it also paved the way for things to get better. I have two interviews this week—one is tomorrow to be a video game tester (jealous?) and the other is on Monday to possibly work for the local JCC’s theatre company (Jewish?). Sara and I had bond fire on the beach last Sunday, something I’ve been meaning to do with her for a while. And I’m writing at a steady pace for now, while preparing the next storytellers event**. Guess what I mean to say is that it took a full-fledged, knock-down, drag-out self implosion for me to get my act together and make sure the show goes on.

Thanks, Los Angeles. I owe you one.

**Little side note: the storytelling gig is now called: SO SAY WE ALL and after much brainstorming on Monday night, we came up with a logo. What you ask? Ah, that remains yet to be seen, but I assure you, it is coming…