Weekly Round-Up

I am sitting at my desk in my cozy home office thinking about where I've been in the world (metaphysically), where I'm at in the world and where I'm going in the world. This is something I pretty much do 24/7, or at least I should say consider 24/7. My place in the world and what I can do to improve is always floating around somewhere in my cranium. And that made me think it might be fun/useful/possibly entertaining if I dedicated one day a week to shed some light on what I'm doing and what's really going on inside my head. Hmmm - I wonder if there should be a warning label attached to this.

So, here I am, behind my desk, eating a peanut butter and jam sandwich on completely unwholesome white bread (is there any other way to have it?) and drinking decaf coffee. I figured Friday would be a could day and started thinking of titles but then realized that wouldn't work because there will probably be an "honor post" showing up on a Friday sooner or later. I checked the calendar and sure enough that would be next Friday when I will be remembering one of the greatest guitarist who ever lived...and unfortunately died...way too young.

Okay, so this is going to be a sort of weekly round-up that will appear either on a Friday or Saturday or maybe Sunday, and will hopefully morph into something that has some sort of structure where I will impart anything and everything personal to me that you may or may not give a shit about. But, hey, it's my blog and last time I checked the constitution there was still that thing called "freedom of speech." And of course, there will be a photograph.

As a matter of fact, I think I'll start with that, so you can get to know me a little better.

Before I saw the picture, I thought my desk was pretty neat. Ooops. This weekly round-up thing may be more revealing than expected or wanted. Okay, we're going to play what's on the desk. Feel free to start by clicking on the photo so you can see it bigger and then make a list of each numbered item, guessing what it is and then you can read my list and see how many you got right. (This is going to be the end of my readership - I'm now wondering why I am tanking my own blog...oh well)

1. The plate that held the pb&j sandwich which is now residing in my belly. Yum.
2. My decaf coffee - still drinking it.
3. My Wacom tablet - very helpful for working with photos and graphics.
4. Ah...video tapes that contain footage of a very cool project I'm working on that I can't talk about yet.
5. My Tivo remote - yes, I have the TV on in the background for company but pay almost no attention to.
6. My groovy new MacBook Pro thanks to the continued support of Cucumber Rob (consider that a shout-out, dude).
7. Where my ass is right now.
8. This morning's empty O.J. glass.
9. My portable video camera that I'm using for B-roll on #4.
10. Obama water - seriously. They're selling it at 7-11 for a buck-fifty-nine. It tastes optimistic.
11. My in/out trays that I recently put there in an effort to organize my office - still working on the organization part which is a story in itself.
12. My very amazing Nikon D300 - the very camera that took the Mick Fleetwood pics, the New Year pics and the camera that saved me from barfing when I took the shots of Jaimie's brain surgery wound being undressed.
13. the Apple bag I cover my new computer with before I put it in my Incase when I take it out for a spin. My computer is so new they haven't made the hardshells for it.
14. Yesterday's mail - I guess I should move that to the inbox tray.
15. Netflix DVD. Danny Boyle's Sunshine. I'll watch it sometime this weekend. Along with North by Northwest...love that movie. Last night I watched This Film Is Not Yet Rated which was nothing new to me but was cool and very revealing. I recommend it.
16. The little wallet that carries my DL and credit cards (which I no longer use unless it's an emergency).
17. A DVD of a graphic client's movie that I did artwork for. I'm expanding my business to do movie trailers so I'm going to have my editor (Tyler) do a mock trailer of it as a sample. I need to give it to him.
18. A plush toy of the Cheshire Cat that is now tailless because I gave it up to Drama.
19. A portable file box with current jobs and stuff I need to deal with such as accounting and filing.
20. My gold star paperweight that I've had since 1979 when I finished my first book Starart.
21. Business cards and an escaped DVD mini tape.
22. Pen/pencil cup.
23. An Oriental lamp that I inherited from my mother's Palm Springs condo when I was charged with moving her stuff out while she was in S.A., circa late eighties.
24. An ashtray from that same condo. It contains matches (for candles and barbecue lighting as I don't smoke and some of my recent fortune cookie fortunes...let's see..."You will continue to take chances and be glad you did" - first part is true, while the last part remains to be seen..."Your luck will soon be at a high point" - hope this isn't it..."An enjoyable vacation is awaiting you" - more like hiding from me.
25. One of those rock coasters with two heads-up quarters on it.
26. Two external hard drives - there's a third that is currently on my dining room table.
27. My scanner that most recently scanned the backstage shot of Donny Hathaway. More to come from that baby.
28. Stapler.
29. A John Wayne coaster that unlike the rock one is absorbent.
30. Earbuds for my iPhone which you can't see because it was taking the pictures. The earbuds are now in my ears because I just finished talking to Jaimie.
31. A very cool Nixon watch that I stole from Tyler.
32. DVDs that I need to check what's on 'em.
33. A hair clippy.
34. A piece of paper with one note on it that I have just recylced. Nevermind, it had some notes on the back about money Tyler owes me.
35. A blank CD.
36. There are two 36s, both a crumpled paper towels.
37. Mini post-it pad.
38. Bookcase.
39. Hard drive case chillin' on the floor.
40. Printer with some large format paper.

Whaddya think? TMI? Not exactly what I intended to post. So much for the round-up other than the couple of things that I threw in the list.

And now I am way out of time. It's almost 4pm and I've really been slack today. I didn't wake up until 10am today 'cause I worked late last night. Then I ended up procrastinating over at The Comeback Girl (how cool is that Obama photo?) after she tipped me off to my bad BUY MY BOOK HERE link. Thanks for that. And somewhere in there I managed an hour-long meeting that could actually be considered as productive.

Yup, I'm going to do more round-up stuff tomorrow because there are things going on here that I can't really talk about but I'm dying to tell you...sort of.

Ringing It In

I don't get out much. Dunno why. I just don't. Especially on New Year's Eve. Sadly, I really can't remember the last time I was outside of my house on the biggest party night of the year. I have a vague memory of some party hopping I did in the early nineties. One of the parties was at some condo on Doheny where Phyllis Diller was in attendance amongst other Hollywood luminaries. But since then it's been a night at home consuming a mouthful of black-eyed peas at the stroke of midnight.

Imagine my surprise when I got an invite to a NYE party at The Palace....hmmm...black-eyed peas at home alone or a swanky party at The Palace? Tough decision. Not. Those black-eyed haven't been doing what they're supposed to do for me anyway. Time to step out and see if I can function in a social petri dish where I maybe know 3 people.

First hurdle - What do I wear?

Maybe I should go for something elegant - it is The Palace after all. Scan the closet. I got nothing.

Second hurdle - How do I behave?

I'm a creative type. We're supposed to be esoteric, deep, mysterious and aloof. Let me work on that.

I take a shower - that's where I get my best ideas. The water falls on my head and within 30 seconds I'm creating a dialogue (writer-speak for conversation) with an imaginary cool person I'm positive I'm going to engage at the party. The shit is pouring out of me. My fellow writers would be green. Definitely esoteric, deep, mysterious and aloof. I'm soooo ready.

Back to the closet. Still nothing. Where's my fairy godmother when I need her? Fuck it. I'll go for comfort. Against the grain of the L.A. cool crowd. What do I care? I pull out jeans, a black shirt, black cowboy boots inlaid with snakeskin (which no one will know except me) and my old black leather motorcycle jacket.

Oh, and at the last minute, I decide to take my camera. It's big enough to hide behind. Just in case. And one more thing...my insurance policy...a very hot, very young guy:

So what if he's my spawn. And so what if he bailed on me an hour in. At least I didn't show up a-l-o-n-e. Time to hide behind the camera.

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Cucumber Rob and Counting Crows founder/bassist Matt Malley.

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Four Clarks and the guy on the end.

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Dancing Queen (and King).

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And again.

Then I met this freak...

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...and the banter began. The esoteric, deep, mysterious and aloof dialogue I had worked out in the shower was nowhere to be found. Instead it was an instant uncontrolled match of wits in order to take the piss out of each other. Yup. I digressed into my regular schtick. With a fellow-freak.

Then "the guy on the end" joined the freak fray. He accused me of stealing his camera. I apologized for taking over his job as 'official party photographer' and it went on and on from there. Cutting remarks. Fun, fun, fun. Until Matt (the freak above) let the Chesher Cat out of the bag and mentioned my book to "the guy on the end" and he suddenly flipped out. "You're THAT photographer?" I don't think he knew that I knew who he was but even better than that was the fact that I'd completely forgotten that the Clark's had me sign a book personalized to him which they gifted to him.

He gushed about the book (wow, you really like it?) and, much to the dismay of both of us (because we were really enjoying the pissing contest), our conversation turned semi-serious...you know, to the creative shit we both indulge in on a daily basis. Yup, we had a creative connection of mutual admiration. Even though he's WAY more accomplished than me. Thankfully, it wasn't the esoteric, deep, mysterious and aloof dialogue I had written in the shower. Thankfully.

At some point he picked up my camera insisted on taking my picture...

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No way I was going to give him a good picture. Take that Mr. Durst.

Of course, I then made it my mission to take a bunch of good pictures of him (yes, I'm that competitive)...

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Anybody got a light?

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Jonathan Clarke and "the way too accomplished guy."

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"No, don't do it, Fred! We'll have security remove the paparazzi stalker chick."

My thanks to the Clark's for the invite and for not confiscating my camera (although Daniel did make a play for my memory card at the end of the evening - I'm assuming he meant the one in my camera).

And thanks to evrybody else who played with me. It was a boatload of fun.

Here's the best of the rest (at least the ones that are suitable for posting)...

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Obviously Matt's only hope of getting lucky with his wife.

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The bump still exists!?!

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Look, Cucumber Rob somehow managed to snag a wife.

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Excellent. A new Roger Corman movie.

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True divaism.

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Kissy, kissy.

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Done.

Cucumber Rob

Some of you know him through previous posts on my blog.

For those of you who have missed those posts, meet Cucumber Rob:

I'm glad his name isn't Richard. Or am I?

Anyway, I have plenty of New York/London posts to post that include CR but alas, I am still buried in bat shit (literally) and unable to get to them as they require a lot of photo editing and reliving the memories of the moment and such.

But something just happened that I am compelled (actually, kind of pissed off) to post. First off, when Cucumber Rob blew into town last Tuesday (bringing his miserable English weather along with him) he brought me a very nice gift. Then today, just when Cucumber Rob was fading into distant memory status, another nice gift shows up.

How could he do that? How am I supposed to take the piss out of him if he keeps bestowing thoughtful gestures on yours truly? How dare he? It's heresy, I tell you. Grounds for immediate arrest and incarceration.

The first gift he must have searched for far and wide. It's a triple CD set of the Led Zeppelin concert I shot in Vancouver on March 20, 1975. I mean who would even want something like that? It's so last century.

Then with the gift that arrived today came a card that said, "Thanks for putting up with my chaos and being such fun. See you next time. Rob" Puh-leeze. What kind of tactics are you trying to pull here, mister? Whatever you're doing, it's not going to work. You still can't park a car, Cucumber Rob. And don't think this is going to stop me from putting up those pictures of you with that---

Anyway, here's a photo that I took of the gifts from Cucumber Rob. If you happen to run into him (he's currently in Long Island and tomorrow he'll be on a plane back to Jolly Olde England) tell him the buttering up thing ain't gonna work.

(this photo taken with the latest iPhone scratch and sniff technology, so have at it)

Feel free to make a comment in defense of yourself, Cucumber. If you can't figure out how to find the icon that gets you to the comment section of the blog (Cucumber Rob needs a lot of assistance in these areas) you can email it to me and I'll post it for you. You do remember how to email, don't you?