Hot air

Sunday was cruisey. I took myself off to Aroma for a quiet coffee and read a feature film script that my roomie is producing. It’s the pet project of the writer/director and is a torrid tale of a sexy young female serial killer who gets targeted by another serial killer. Not really my taste, but Emily was keen for a fresh set of eyes on it because she feels it needs some judicious editing. The writer is highly resistant to this idea of course, fervently believing in the perfection of his product. It’s difficult for me to be objectively critical of it because it’s as far from my cup of tea as fermented elephant urine, but I certainly agree that it needs trimming and some scenes rewritten (or at least tweaked). Much of the dialogue is unsubtle and overwritten, I disliked the lead character (she’s supposed to be a kick-ass, independent chick who only kills child molesters so you’re supposed to root for her) and found the other serial killer’s so-called “obsession” with her ludicrous. Anyhoo, it undoubtedly has a market; there’s a lot of angry emos with no artistic taste out there lining up for this kind of thing.

In the evening I met up with Janeen for her last night before flying home to her toy boy, along with the friends she was staying with in Bel Air. We met at a little bar in Sherman Oaks, called Fabs, and it was rather fab indeed. Happy hour afforded us half price drinks from a decent wine list and delicious bar food. Janeen’s friends are a casting director and her actor husband – good people to know in this town. We spent a perfectly lovely couple of hours at Fabs. Robin and Karen were charming and friendly, very willing to share their experiences in “the biz” and give me advice. As we said our goodbyes, Karen and I realised that not only were we wearing very similar black shirts with pintucked, bib detail, but THE SAME JEANS. Same brand, same style, same colour. And knee-high boots over the top. We were, like, totally twins or something!

It’s now Thursday and the week has been a blur of car shopping and casting workshops. The car shopping is tedious, so I’ll not go into detail there, just to say that I’m hopeful of settling on something in the next couple of days. Casting workshops have been fun, and I’ve trotted out my American accent each time, to great acclaim. Well, a few people said it was good. And the casting directors didn’t quiz me about my natural accent. Great acclaim or uncriticised, same difference, right?

Today America held its breath as live news footage of an experimental hot air balloon (looking much like a silver Portobello mushroom) in which a 6 year old was believed to be trapped as it drifted across Colorado. They actually interrupted regular programming to bring us these live images as a couple of commentators repeated over and over what little was known, in the tremulous hope that more information would come to light. Or that the balloon would crash and provide some real “must-see TV”. Luckily (or not, if you’re a hard-nosed news exec), the child was not in the balloon when it finally descended to a surprisingly gentle landing. It seems he had been hiding in the family barn all the time. Feel good story or brazen publicity ploy? You see, the experimental balloon is the brainchild of said 6 year old’s father. Hmmm, curioser.