Need to take my own advice: draw every day without hope, without despair. Got bogged down yesterday. Got film of the boys as Daltons, looks good (see photos) plus bought three rolls to shoot finished art ($43 something, Sue debit), came back to office and met Eric H and Dan who are movie grads and want to make a Western. They had a two minute trailer they had produced and it was very professional. Shot in Cinerama, letter-box, wide screen, with a musical score (swiped from Legends of The Fall). Very impressive. Eric works for Dustin Hoffman’s company and Dan is a Hollywood shooter. Both are young and full of piss and vinegar and that’s what it takes to make it out there. What they may not have is a strong enough dose of maniacal deviousness that seems to be a prerequisite in H-Land. Unfortunately, it’s a trait many people from the midwest don’t have (I would include myself on that list).
Worked until around six, didn’t get much. Hanging out. Started raining around six. Went over and met Rebecca and she drove us down to Deer Valley 30 to meet Kathy (who was coming from shopping all day with Deena) and see “Frida.” ($16 cash). On the way down Rebecca told me the horror story of her previous tenants who destroyed her house, walked off with three lamps, etc. I was cringing because we were the ones who got the tenants for her. Ouch! Movie was pretty good. I enjoyed it from an artist’s point of view. There were a gaggle of lesbians sitting in the back of the theater and they were hooting and rooting at the dance scene with Salma Hayek and Ashley Judd. It was like we were at a sporting event and they were rooting for their “team.” Ah, the blurring of lines between venues. Welcome to the new millenium. Afterwards we drove down in the rain to Manuel’s for a late dinner ($27 cash). We were hungry for Mexican food because in the movie they were eating all the time, and it looked so scrumptious (Rivera allegedly loved mole and it looked magnificent).
"Anytime a person goes into a delicatessen and orders a pastrami on white bread, somewhere a Jew dies."
—Milton Berle
