A New Place

We’ve moved.
Off the hill, onto the next chapter in our life.

It is one of the reasons that I haven’t updated this blog in quite some time. I simply haven’t been in front of a computer. Me. Can you imagine?

The past several weeks have been spent in a world of boxes and questions about where to put things. As moves go, it was about as easy as one could hope for. That said, they always suck.

I also have no DSL at the moment, which is killing me. I was able to get the satellite up and running, rewire some telephone lines to the office, and get the theater set up. These things make me feel more in touch, however, with no internet, I am truly lost. I wonder what my email will be like when I finally get back on it?


The Crawl Space

This new house has a crawl space that goes under the entire house. I was pleased to find this because it meant that running cables and wires would be easier. Squatting at the entrance though, with my halogen light shining into the depths, I was reminded that I really don’t like spelunking, or caving – whichever word you like - and this was going to be pretty similar – approximately three feet of height to crawl around in, extremely powdery dirt floor, and the remains of thousands of spiders hanging above. After about ten minutes of staring at this, psyching myself up and trying to figure out the best way to find an audio cable I had dropped through the living room floor, somewhere down here - I started in. Even though the temperature was cool, it still got hot fast. As I crawled deeper into the space, the three foot height became two, and criss-crossing pipes caused me to have to figure a route out. I pulled myself along on my stomach at some points, hoping I wouldn’t have to back out. Without much problem though, I did find the wire I had run through the wood floor above me. The modern cable was easy to spot in this otherwise dusty world. Then, as I swung the light around to go back, something caught my eye. An area of the crawl space about twelve feet away seemed to be walled with old packing crate wood. I pulled myself toward it with the work-light and as I neared, saw the dirt ground drop off into what looked like an old cellar. With the bright work light casting harsh shadows, and my face being only two feet from the ground, I couldn’t see the floor of the old room, so I had no idea whether it was two feet or ten feet deep. Several old cast iron water pipes prevented me from getting any closer, but I figured that with a different route, I could get there. Having inhaled dirt for about twenty minutes, I was getting in desperate need of fresh air, so I turned toward the distant entrance. As I swung the light away, I caught a glimpse of one of the inner walls of the ancient cellar. Hanging from them were several art deco paintings - women, in ethereal settings, wearing little clothes.

I crawled back to the entrance and sunlight and was very happy to stand up and stretch my back.

Later, I told Marianne about the mysterious room I had discovered underground, and immediately she wanted to see it. Moments later, we left the sunny day, entering the crawl space entrance and the dusty underbelly of the house.

We edged toward the area and figured out a route that would not be blocked by pipes. The bottom of the cellar slowly became visible as I got closer with the light, and finally I was able to see that it was about five feet deep. I crawled over the edge and jumped down. Marianne followed. In the cellar, we were able to stand with no problem, and thus were able to examine it at leisure. It was not large, maybe ten feet across. An old wooden staircase led up to where the office now was. A light switch was mounted to a beam and the old wire led to a fixture hanging from the ceiling, complete with an old bulb. And the pictures -- It was now possible to look at them closely. When touching them, it was plain to see how old and fragile they were. The coolness of the ground had preserved them, but they were still ready to turn to dust.
Some had fallen from the wall to the floor, which we gingerly picked up. After studying the space for a while, the dusty air started to get to us. We climbed up the ledge and then began the crawl back, following the extension cable as our return path to fresh air and sunlight.

With us, came the pictures that had fallen to the floor. We left the rest below for someone in the future to discover. I think we’re going to frame them. It’ll make for fun conversation. In the meantime – here they are.






































It is interesting. Even though this house is new on the surface – recently redone, it has already exhibited a more interesting past then the one in which we made a ghost story.

Sometime, I’ll tell you the story of the devil-dog statue I found when I was in high school.

Now, I must unpack some more boxes, or perhaps try to clear some more brush out of the backyard.

Something new

There was a time in all of our lives when each day taught us something new. Or many things.
I do still learn things. Generally though, they are refinements of things I already know. I realize that learning something, to even have the possibility of discovering something entirely new, as an adult, on a daily level is fairly unlikely, but - with all the information at our disposal - shouldn't it be possible?

I'm not desirous of learning quantum physics, just a tidbit of something that hasn't been in my daily view.

I bet there's a website somewhere devoted to divulging something (randomly and daily of course) that you didn't know. Now, I don't want useless knowledge. I have plenty of that; I can flip a Snapple top and get that - No, I think I want to learn something new everyday, which could be useful.

Along those lines, I'm going to also listen to one new song, or (if classical) 'piece', of music per day. The advantage to a 'song' is that it shouldn't take much longer than 3:50 -- unless it's some pretentious band doing something pretentious. I'm not sure which retro-year we're in right now, so it is entirely possible that ELP-like, or Pink Floyd-like, or some other band that does hourlong 'songs' could be hot (with a different name and members). But I don't think so. Is Air still putting out albums? They were Pink Floyd, weren't they? And everyone knows that Oasis is the Beatles. Who is Jet?

I've really been trying to stay in touch with current music, but damn it - so much of it is soooo boring. Really, it is. I find my listening habits going backwards in time. Further and Further.

So - if you know of any cool new music, let me know.

Going to look at two places tomorrow. Fingers still crossed.

Later, when we have a new place, I'll write about some of the house hunt experience. Till then though, I don't want to jinx the search with cynical storytelling.

focusing on the target

The hunt narrows. We're still looking around in Silver Lake, and that Altadena thing I wrote about continues to hold possibilities. Lately, South Pasadena has become of interest to us. Ironically, well maybe not ironically, but something very... something -- is that one of the places we really liked was only three blocks from where our present (now past) landlord lives. The guy who sold this place.
How does the world, that is so big, always end up being so small?

We like about three places right now. Each has their rub. We're hoping to look at another place here in Silver Lake and we have another lookie see appointment tomorrow. Fingers crossed, it could be the one.

Of course, now that we're in the last throes of Edendale living, a stray cat has decided to adopt us. It desperately wants to get into the house. Won't let it of course cause I'm allergic and we don't want to get attached. Marianne did buy some cat food though, and we've been feeding it at night. Does that sound unattached?

There are a lot of cats in these hills, and they somehow seem to signal events. Don't know why but they do. When we moved in four and a half years ago, cats circled the place. I even busted one in the living room when we were moving stuff in. When I was editing the movie, a strange cadre of black cats used to sit in the patio area and just stare, and now - this one. There doesn't seem to be anything ominous or premonitory about it. It just is. I'll have to research that more.

For my birthday, I was given a styrofoam radio controlled airplane. It's one of the coolest presents and I can't wait to fly it. With a freebie simulator program that allows you to practice flight, I have a slightly better than zero chance of not losing the airplane in its maiden voyage. Looking at the directions, I'm reminded of something. I do not live in suburban America. The directive of finding a wide open area the size of a football field, with grass - away from telephone, power lines and trees, is not nearly as easily accomplished in Los Angeles and the surrounding area as it was in Bucks County, Pa. I suppose I could go into the desert, but chasing after the airplane might be accompanied by dodging of rattlesnakes, dry scrub brush, and who knows what else. Till then, virtual flying it is.

This is not my beautiful house.

Imprinting. It happens to ducks. It happens to Humans.

We're deep in the process of looking for a new place. Every place we look at we gauge by how close it is to where we presently live, and how close it is to what we presently have.
It's not a good thing, but has been difficult to avoid.

We go into a place and look it over wondering, can we make memories here. Will it work? Will the office desk fit over there? Will this room be okay for our bedroom furniture?
Where's the yard? That's what they were talking about?

The fact is that we have found several nice places. The minus is that they have gotten a bit more pricey since we last looked. Thankfully, not as bad as purchase prices of homes.

I have discovered that Altadena is a major secret of the Los Angeles area. The prices really aren't bad, and besides the fact that it's hotter than hell, the homes are stunning... and it's a suburb - with trees and backyards, and lawns, and pools. If you can deal with being twenty or so minutes further east than Silver Lake/Burbank/Hollywood, it's not a bad place at all. Of Altadena, I will now officially coin the phrase - Topanga of the foothills. With the San Gabriel mountains looming behind, it makes for quite a stunning place.
If only it weren't so damn hot.

Our hope is to stay in this area - it being the Silver Lake area. I fear that it has become a bit too trendy, which translates into pricey - something old timers were bemoaning five years ago. The real artsy feel is being replaced by a certain corporate artsy feel. Kinda getting a westside vibe. It does still has plenty of coolness to it though and who knows what will happen if the economy reverts to sanity. Still, it's disconcerting to see all the BMW's and Mercedes being driven by lousy drivers.
Damn near like being in Beverly Hills.

Hey, I saw something in the news which really bothers me -- and I can start this with: Those FRICKIN republicans. What is up with doing nothing but evil these days???

Okay - The FCC decided that phone companies no longer have to share their Internet lines with rivals. This was done as a 4-0 ruling from the commission (which has an open seat)

The chairman is Kevin Martin; a proud Bushie.

What this means is that the large companies win - we're going to be at the mercy of the people who own the phone lines for our DSL. I have a great price and great service through a company called dslextreme. Basically, they'll be screwed and SBC will win. I see this as a sanctioned monopoly. Their argument is that this is the only way that cable can compete.
Uh, NO.
If there's only two bullies on the block, they'll eventually get together and bully everyone together.

I leave with this question...

WHY MUST THE GOVERNMENT BE SO EVIL?

If I have baffled you with this, learn more... Google -- FCC DSL

Still Beatin

Back in the 80's Huey Lewis had a song called "Heart of Rock N Roll". It was a song in which he was happy and relieved to find that Rock and Roll was alive in well in various cities across the U.S.

Last night I went to the Derby for a Rockabilly show. Like Huey, I was happy and relieved.

A roomful of the right people and the right frame of mind.



It was a three band night, all of them really good. The headliner was the Dave and Deke combo, a fairly well known country swing/light rockabilly band of ten or fifteen years ago. Fantastic! Perhaps one of the tightest acts I've ever seen. It gave a chance for the cats and the kitties to come out and dance - and boy did they ever. Think Swingers and you have the picture. Well, that is exactly the picture, isn't it?

It was a good evening to shake some of the cobwebs loose and put me in the right head for a scene I'm rewriting in "Diamond Road" (Which is a Rockabilly action adventure after all.)

Insert CD, Rip. Next.
Though I have hundreds of Mp3's, I'm finally ripping my CD collection. Windows Media Player finally got the process of music archiving, ripping, etc. right. Like many of Microsofts products - they gotta rip someone else off. Once they do, it takes a couple iterations to get it right. However, once it's right, it's better than pretty much anyone else.

Generally, I leave my computers spartan. It has been a requirement of high end video editing -- can't have any other crap slowing things down. Now, since I'm not immediately editing with my new lappie, I'm allowing myself some of the fun doodads that makes computers go round.

Insert Disc, Rip... oops, classical - beef the data rate to 320.

Pretty cool. There's quite a bit of music I haven't listened to in a long time, so it'll be a chance to broaden my listening base.

In a few moments I'm heading out to sail the high seas to Catalina island. Twenty six miles across the sea. About six hours.

Finally, here is something that I used to see more of on the East Coast, though not to this size. A sign of trouble for farmers and bible carriers when they swarm, the sounds they make remind me of the dogs days of summer.


Locust Chiming in.


Enjoy your summer day, doing whatever.

Disconcerted Hummingbird

The Hummingbird above me is disconcerted.

That's because I'm typing this from my deck, meaning - the new notebook computer is fully functional and personalized enough that work can continue, meaning - it was a long, but fun day of getting to know it, meaning - UPS delivered it without problem yesterday!

Shipping services are a pretty amazing thing. I only get more amazed when I track a package and see its progress across the country or even world.

So, I feel guilty that I'm decomissioning (more or less) the Sony. Damn Machines. Must not get attached.

I hear the distant rumblings of a bulldozer, pushing and dumping the pieces of Michael, Yoko, and Rob's now dead house. I guess those sounds will continue for a while, then the sounds of new construction, then the sounds of real estate agents, and finally, the sounds of people gasping as they realize they're mortgage payments will never stop.
Such is life in Los Angeles in July of 2005. For Sale signs are popping up everywhere. People trying to cash out as they realize that the market is or has peeked.

And now, the day stretches in front of me, full of promise. As the sun creeps towards my feet, my island of shadow vanishing, I must begin work. Soon enough, I'll be back in the dark office, but for the moment, I can enjoy the outdoors.

battery time remaining 3:05. Nice!

This old house is going to meet the saints.

The eviction papers were served.

So, there it is...
60 days and we're somewhere else. Who knows where?

The day after the papers were put on our door, a bulldozer sat in front of what used to be Michael, Yoko and Rob's old house. I use first names only, and should elaborate.

If you've read any of this blog, maybe you remember the Thanksgiving dinners, the Fellini'esqe evenings in the backyard under the lemon tree, the gatherings of friends, the bottles of wine. No? A rich history of friends and neighbors, celebrating whatever needed celebrating frequently happened at that house.




























Celebrations on the Hill

Michael and Yoko bought a house when the landlord told them he was going to raze the house and build something new. That was about a year ago, so the house sat vacant, dying. Amazing, really how a house dies when no one lives in it. They are more than lumber glass and nails, aren't they?

It was an old house that had a lot of life pass through it, beginning long before I or any of the current generation of Edendale were born.













































It only took about forty minutes.

It was a perfect symbol of how we feel. The set is coming down, time to move on.

Incidentally, if you've seen Ghosts of Edendale, this house appears in it. Rachel runs past it, and we used the back of it for a scene between Julian and Rachel (where she is looking for Andrew, who has mysteriously vanished)

Some of the neighbors came out to watch and take pictures. I took pics and video. In hindsight, I wished I could have recorded it with proper mic placement and decent mics. The sounds the house made were big. Bigger than I thought. The shattering of glass and lumber combined was art unto itself.

So, there it is. The end of Edendale living is in sight. New beginnings for others.
May it be as good to them as it has been for me.

Anyone is L.A. - if you know of a two bedroom house - (not apartment) with privacy, trees, etc. for rent -- let me know.

I will announce the "Winner" of my death diarama question soon. Read the blog, give it some thought.

Getting a head in the business

It seems that a lot of my friends are making movies about the head - and no, not a one of these movies was one of 'those' movies - produced in the valley. haha.

First, Paul Tarantino's HeadHunter, then Lance Weiler's Head Trauma, and just this past week, I had a chance to go to a very secret screening of Brothers of the Head by Lou Pepe and Keith Fulton. I'm sworn to secrecy on it - the print was flown in from Britain - complete with security detail, and flown out the very next day. Okay - the security was an assistant named Abby, however, she was under threat of death to let the print out of her sight.

Suffice it to say, the movie will get into YOUR head. Bravo, Guys!

And you, fair reader will hear a lot about this movie soon enough.

Meanwhile, my head is hurting as I ponder the notes I've gotten for Diamond Road.
I'm in agreement with a lot of them, but finding it difficult to sort them into anything coherent for a re-write. UGGGH!. Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's the sun. Maybe I'm just temporarily burned out on this script.

As I'm pondering the rewrite, I'm hitting the reload button on an order status page like a chimp trying to get peanuts: Yes, after a lot of late night searching, a lot of comparisons, a lot of reviews, user opinions, questions here on this blog, and some distant driving to the rare dealer in Soutern California, and after searching Pricegrabber for the best price, and reading reviews about said retailer, etc. etc.
- I went and ordered an Asus V6V notebook computer.
Never heard of them? Well, Asus (besides making great motherboards, etc.) are the company that makes Apple, Sony and a few other company's notebook computers. They have their own line of systems, and wow - these are the best looking notebooks on the market today. Performance is steller too.

This Sony Vaio has treated me fairly well, but it's getting funky. The (new) battery died (a victim of a bad battery board) and the hard drive makes a clicking sound every so often. It's not 'portable', since I need electricity, and the battery board replacement was for nought. If you've kept up with this blog, you'll have read about the upkeep of this computer.

I know I shouldn't get attached to machines, but as a writer, you do get attached to keyboards, computer screens, etc. Maybe even more so than the typical computer user. I'm going through the guilt pangs of replacing the system. Maybe VAIO knows - today the screen started flickering. Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

If any of you are tech junkies, you'll know the feeling of waiting for a really cool, new toy.
I've been hitting the reload button on the order page since its inception - Last Friday.
Let me hit that reload button again (seventh time today), to see if my order is updated in any way whatsoever...
Hey! An update!

The order has shipped from Canton Ohio - due here next Monday.

only 144 hours to go.

3 pages

Okay, to really open up for ya - - - to whet your appetite - here are the first three pages of the screenplay for the next project. I formatted this as close as possible to the actual script, but hey - it's a blog, it won't be perfect.

Enjoy.
SMA

Diamond Road V2 2005

FADE IN:

EXT. CORNFIELD - DAY
A gentle wind plays on the baby fresh leaves of an enormous green COTTON FIELD. A cloudless blue sky above completes the perfect dream of a day.

The quiet is broken as three bright yellow AIRPLANES (old AIR TRACTORS) SCREAM past overhead.
In unison, they release a yellow powder which drifts downward toward the field.

CROPDUSTING!

I/E. COCKPIT - CONTINUOUS
The cockpit of the first airplane VEERS into view - EDDIE DUNGRIN, 24 a slickback haired, James Dean with a sense of humor - flyboy at the stick.

The radio CRACKLES:

RADIO VOICE
Betcha can’t.

EDDIE
Of course I can. I just don’t wanna.

RADIO VOICE
Right.

Eddie wrestles with himself.

EDDIE
Dammit. Okay. Watch me.

I/E. ANOTHER COCKPIT - CONTINUOUS
- Piloted by SCOTTIE, 23, Eddie’s best friend. Burly with curly hair, he is slightly more responsible than Eddie. Only slightly, but it’s enough to see that trouble is on the way.

SCOTTIE
Bad idea, Eddie. Don’t do it.

BACK TO:

I/E. EDDIE’S CROPDUSTER COCKPIT - CONTINUOUS

EDDIE
It’s no big deal.

His face belies the words. Whatever it is, is a big deal.
Eddie concentrates as The GROUND races by. In the far distance, sticking from the field, a FLAG on a pole quickly approaches.

RADIO VOICE
Fifty bucks.

Eddie concentrates. The bet is on.

EXT. FIELD - CONTINUOUS
Eddie’s airplane SCREAMS past, a yellow blur, flying low to the ground.

INT. EDDIE’S CROPDUSTER COCKPIT - CONTINUOUS
The flag approaches. Eddie dips lower.

EXT. FIELD - CONTINUOUS
WOOOMP, the propeller slices through the flag, turning it to instant confetti. The airplane buzzes past.

INT. EDDIE’S CROPDUSTER COCKPIT - CONTINUOUS

EDDIE
Yeah, baby! Fifty bucks.

EXT. EDDIE CROPDUSTER - CONTINUOUS
A secondary WATERING POLE suddenly appears from nowhere. The landing gear slams into it, and with a SCREECHING rip, the left wheel TEARS off the bottom of the airplane!

INT. EDDIE’S CROPDUSTER COCKPIT - CONTINUOUS
Eddie pulls back on his flight stick, pulling the airplane to a higher altitude.

EDDIE
Uh, guys - what happened?

SCOTTIE
Geez, Eddie. I think you
tore up the landing gear.

Scottie pulls his airplane under Eddie’s and looks up through the glass canopy. Underneath the belly of Eddie’s airplane, the twisted landing gear vibrates in the wind.

EDDIE
Well?

SCOTTIE
It’s going to be a rough landing.
Your left side is gone. You’ll
have to land it on the right side.

His airplane arcs away from Eddie’s.

EDDIE
Damn it.

EXT. GRASS STRIP - MOMENTS LATER
Scottie stands on the edge of the landing strip, next to his airplane. He watches as Eddie’s airplane drifts slowly toward the ground.

INT. EDDIE’S CROPDUSTER COCKPIT - CONTINUOUS
Eddie holds the stick tightly, guiding the airplane as best as possible to put the majority weight on the one remaining wheel.

EXT. GRASS STRIP - CONTINUOUS
The airplane descends timidly - in a near stall. The single wheel hits - bounces - hits again.

Dirt flies as the strut that held a missing wheel rips a ditch into the ground. The airplane travels forward on the remaining wheel.
The airplane hops off the ground and then back again.


Hopefully you can see the rest at the movies in a couple years.

Salon.com News | 450 sheep jump to their deaths in Turkey

At the risk of becoming one of those blogs that does nothing but regurgitate other news - I had to put this up. It's just too weird.
Some people mention lemmings... I was thinking more about someone trying to get to sleep counting sheep... In the cartoons, they always fly past, don't they?
Or, biblically weren't sheep always used in sacrifices? I guess you'd call this self sacrifice - hmm, how very paternal.

Or... had the sheep had enough from the shepards?

Salon.com News | 450 sheep jump to their deaths in Turkey: "450 sheep jump to their deaths in Turkey

July 8, 2005 | Istanbul, Turkey -- First one sheep jumped to its death. Then stunned Turkish shepherds, who had left the herd to graze while they had breakfast, watched as nearly 1,500 others followed, each leaping off the same cliff, Turkish media reported.

In the end, 450 dead animals lay on top of one another in a billowy white pile, the Aksam newspaper said. Those who jumped later were saved as the pile got higher and the fall more cushioned, Aksam reported.

'There's nothing we can do. They're all wasted,' Nevzat Bayhan, a member of one of 26 families whose sheep were grazing together in the herd, was quoted as saying by Aksam.

The estimated loss to families in the town of Gevas, located in Van province in eastern Turkey, tops $100,000, a significant amount of money in a country where average GDP per head is around $2,700."