Yesterday I shot the Drew show on Hollywood Boulevard. I got to recruit folks.
A woman. A Navajo, she told me, didn't have a home.
I am waiting to go home too, I told her.
Then I walked into Banana Republic and bought a three hundred dollar outfit.
You're so crazy, the girls on the shoot laughed.
No, I said. Just wanted to buy something.
A boy comes up to me. He wants to pitch a TV show. I put up my hand. I give him options. Pointer finger. Ring finger. Pointer to ring to middle. I tell him about the internet, where to pitch, how the networks work.
Can you read the script? he asks. Can I give it to you?
I put up my hand. I can't. I am not interested. I know. It's not my area. I have nothing to do with submissions. I am an Associate. I am not a network executive.
He hears one word. Internet. He says it over to himself. Internet.
Can you deal with him? another Producer points.
My hand is in my pocket. I dealt with him last week. I know how to get junkies off a shoot. My hand in my pocket. I've got a dollar there.
He looks at me. He knows.
I just wanted to say hi to her, he says.
I put my arm around him. I walk him away from the woman. I put the dollar in his hand. His eyes are on the dollar. My eyes are on the dollar. My eyes are on his eyes.
Take it.
I don't have to say go. He is already halfway to a score of something. Battery acid or a croissant or a day old bagel. I don't know. He is gone. The shoot continues. There are no interruptions.
I walk into the Banana Republic. I buy a 60 dollar belt. I walk out. I look down at my bag of old clothes. Bleach-stained-pants. Torn belt. Borrowed shirt.
New clothes this morning. Pinstripe pants. White-starched shirt. The beard is still there. The belt is on my waist. It is Friday. It is time to go. 6 pm.
I look over at my astrological chart. T made it for me.
You will be a good person to know, she says. You won't ever have to worry about money.
I laugh. I am putting away my Clark Kent. I am standing. I am in the elevator. The cape comes on. I exit the building. I soar over Hollywood. 101 North. Between the NBC Universal Building. Over Studio City. To Taft Avenue. To 1807. To a Rite Aid Pharmacy, where I burn the books of my past. To a small 14 dollar grill, where I begin again.
5 comments:
I like this style.
Yeah, it's fun. Almost poetry, but not quite. It leaves a lot of spaces for questions. I would say it's your style put to fiction??? Who knows? Fun though.
I burned the books finally. Bought a grill and burned them right in my front walk.
Neighbors didn't say a thing. They are fans.
Looks like a ritual, one even said.
It is, I replied.
It took me 6 hours to burn 2 copies of the strats. I did it though. I feel good. Very tired though. Like I went and built igloos in the snow for way too long.
Why did it take so long?
I was an idiot and just dumped the books in the grill without creating air pockets for the oxygen to get in there. It literally took forever. It started raining. Don't ask. Just know the job is done.
Now I'm going to watch a Sanurai movie or Jarhead. Which will it be?
Dont know if it is poetry or prose, but it is of interest. yes, I am up to something similar, but in that area, this is very different.
So how would you go about buring books properly? How to get that air in there? I'd like a drawing. diagram.
the monk is always buring leaves outside my window. raining today, so no burning.
april 1st brother, watch out for the fools
j
Good day gentleman. A good book buring always gets my attention. I feel here is a conversation I am entering in the middle. Do you still have copies or is that that? The neighbors should not say anything, it is not their property you are destroying, you have it in a controlled environment, you burned nothing which would be cruel or unusual.
I was at a birthday party in Orlando and witnessed the host burn hundreds of old letters he had kept from over the years, I had never seen a collection like it before, yet, up in flames.
I will draw the diagram. Heading to the Sabor now.
I will draw a comic explaining the book burning too.
Sean what's your novel about?
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