Just now coming up for air...

I recently had one of those Hollywood encounters that people look back and speak of, somewhere from the top of the mountain, about bumping into and meeting someone with the clout and talent to lift them from where they once sat. I’ve had them in the past, but never like this. He said in as many words: write a script no one else has seen, make it your voice and nothing else, don’t sell out to the market and let me see it…but don’t dick around and do it fast – I’m staffing.

I had just finished a 125 page – 16 song musical that will somewhere, someday find an audience and was easing into the idea of starting something fresh when all this happened. In fact, I was just beginning the exact thing he was suggesting…a tale of two kids in love, their dreams of escape, robbery, bounty hunters, YouTube and the media circus, murder, sex, revenge and the Rolling Stones. At least that’s what I tell myself – that this was the exact thing he was suggesting.

But I wasn’t there yet, not even close to passing it off. It would take 2 brain-bleeding weeks to get there...and then even that would be a stretch. But since I’ve always had drive – I wasn’t worried about being good…and quick, very quick.

So that I may continue, please trust me when I say that this is big. Actually, now confronting all this, the thought of such a blunt and direct opportunity scares the shit out of me. Because at the end of the day, it means I have to face myself, cock out, ready to rock, on stage, full audience, under spotlight. For 2 weeks, I spent every minute of my life weaving stories and arcs, electrifying pages, dancing lines…all that shit.

Somewhere in the binge, she came out, and I understood, not for the first time, what it’s like to write with someone in mind, my damsel, my heroine, my Kimberly…

Alison Lohman. It was Matchstick Men that did it. I saw her on my pages, saying something like…if you harm him in any way, I will kill you and everyone in this place. And if he dies, from this moment until the day of my last breath, I’ll rain a hell on this corner of the world so vicious, Lucifer himself will plead me to stop.

And with that, things turned concrete. Every now and again, she would show up in my dreams, kiss my cheek something sweet and wake me under a spell of love. Yes, brilliant actresses woo me prudely while I sleep. I love it.

I finished the first pass and thought of puking, giddy, just to empty what remnants of residue I had left. After the fifth pass, my face was numb, like I’d been sucked beautifully dry. And with that, it was time.

…

On Sunday, I woke up before the sun to make a 6 in the AM train to Universal City. From there, at 8:15, I ran 26.2 miles through the streets of Los Angeles. When I finished (3:43), I sat in the middle of the street eating apples and bananas. Then, I took a nap in the street. Then, I was abruptly stirred by Paramedics who let me leave under my own accord after much convincing that I was just, “kickin’ it there and not actually dying.” Then, I took a couple trains back to my car and drove home, skin burnt red and nipples crazy-glued.

At 7, I met my encounter at the Chateau for dinner (the gentleman, not the girl in the picture). We talked about endeavors and what I could only sum up as the joy and pain of life. As I paid the valet, as we were leaving, I handed him a packet, home-made, containing my script, Kimberly and Valentine. Afterwards, I wandered about town, stopping for drinks here, there…I don’t always quite recall.

Eventually, I made it home, obviously, because I’m here now. Then I slept, nearly forever and dreamt of things good and futures bright…at least on this Sunday.