I wrote these seven sentences three years ago, on my first night in Los Angeles.
“Oh the wonders of jetlag… it’s 2am and I’m lying stretched out across a super king size in a super cheap motel one mile out from California’s LAX. The motel phone just rang robbing my frizzled brain of restless sleep and although I was half expecting to hear the voice of some sleazed up “call girl service” it turned out to be my old buddy Kelvin, a Kiwi/Californian now living in LA. Kelvin’s offered to pick me up at 6am and drive me out to his friend’s digs in Hollywood where I can rest my heavy head for the weekend.
Is it good news when the ex-wife of one of the biggest Producers in Hollywood reads your script and says that it’s hysterical and wants to meet you as soon as you arrive in town? Who knows; only one way to find out, gotta contact that broad, gotta dial her number.
The exchange rate here is poor and the cash in my pocket is only going to last me so long.
But I’m living according to a different kind of providence and although I ain’t sleeping I’m faithfully following my dreams…”
P:S: This is the third in a series of blogs chronicling my adventures in Los Angeles over the last 3 years. See “How the F@*k Did I Get Here” to begin the adventure.