Posts Tagged ‘Chicago’

A rather unexpected and stunning turn of events in Chicago city politics – really the only politics that count for anything in the state of Illinois. (Chicago all but runs Springfield and the rest of the state.)

Hizzoner, Mayor Richard M. Daley, “The Son, “(as he is sometimes referred to), as well as “Daley the Second” will not seek re-election at the end of his current term early next year.

He will step down after outlasting his father’s run as Mayor of Chicago by only several months when he does. The important note is that he will have served longer than his father – a stated goal back in the fourth or fifth term when asked how long he would like to go. If Richard M. had run, it would’ve been for a historic seventh term. He was referred to as “Mayor for Life” by most of Chicago’s citizens, some with a sneer, but most in all honesty with a sense of relief. In the City That Works many tax payers slept much easier knowing that a Daley was manning the Fifth Floor, term after term. There really hadn’t been much true opposition to Daley’s re-election campaigns in quite some time. No one in their right mind wanted to tangle with the family name.

That has some to do with the good things that Richard M. did for the city since he took over the reigns back in 1989. But, when you get down to it, the family name stems more from the legacy of  his father – Richard J. Daley, a.k.a. “Daley The First,” or “Boss Daley” and possibly the sudden death of Richard J. while still in office. Richard J. was Richard J. Daley, an American Pharaoh who shaped late twentieth century Chicago in his image by sheer force of will and the unrivaled power of the Democratic Machine. Many believe Richard J. literally put JFK in office, his power within the Democratic National Party was so strong at the time and the legend so entrenched of Richard J. delivering Democratic victories by means both above-board and nefarious.

Father and Son shared many similarities and took the same tack for shaping Chicago with their vision – construction. Never-ending public works, incentives for developers, gentrification – especially with Richard M., the Son, that would run wild through the Windy City’s neighborhoods. Their rule over the city lasted forty-two years out of the past fifty-five. That’s nearly a half-century between father and son leading one of the largest and most powerful cities in all of America. That’s an epic familial legacy. In those shared similarities were both good and bad qualities, traits, and ambitions. Neither man liked to lose a political battle and were willing to hit below the belt to get their way. Both had a clear-cut vision for what the city needed to evolve and grow, both succeeded in implementing these plans and transforming the city into a Chicago on the rise. The Father did so twice – once in the post-World War II boom period of the 50s and again through the Urban Collapse of rust-belt cities in the 70s (Detroit, St. Louis, Cleveland.) Then the Son at the turn of the century, bringing Chicago to the international stage, promoting Arts, the Restaurant Industry, Tourism, and public works (Millennium Park.)

There’s the darker side. Was their graft, cronyism, and other hallmarks of the Machine – even in the Son’s tenure when he claimed the Machine was dead and gone? Most certainly. Chicagoans have seen it everyday of their lives. They expect that behavior. It’s a part of the City and how things are done.  Is some of that behind Daley stepping down now, even though many believed he would at least seek another term? We’ll see. That’s possible. Always possible in Illinois politics. The Feds sniffed around Daley a few times, but the Feds never serve an indictment unless it is a lock and so nothing was brought against the current Hizzoner, just like his father. There are other, personal reasons (anything nefarious is pure speculation.) His wife’s long and difficult battle against breast cancer, the failure to get the Olympics to come to Chicago, and, of course, the spectre of his father’s sudden death in office and a desire to write a different ending for himself.

I would guess Bar Owners throughout the city are rejoicing right now. Daley the second was tough on them and different points in his career. He hated the old school, neighborhood network of street corner taverns and waged war on those establishments often. He froze liquor licenses in the city a long ways back, so that you couldn’t open a new bar. If it didn’t serve food and was a proven restaurant, or was a tavern/bar/club with an existing liquor license, then there was no amount of money you could pour into city hall to make them approve your establishment.

All in all, the news today makes me turn my attention back to THE SCRIPT and stokes my desire to see it come to life some day. It baffles me that, seemingly, everyone’s afraid of making that show right now. Will things change with this sudden shift? I doubt it, but one can dream – can’t they?

It will be interesting to see who steps up to the plate. Many say Rahm Emmanuel will resign from his Chief of Staff post and announce shortly after mid-term elections. He’s openly coveted the job. Either way, Chicago will see its first truly competitive, wide-open Mayoral campaign in over two decades early next year. Now, that will be a race to watch.

So, I’m been meditating on/contemplating slowly and casually researching a more long term project in a different medium. As with many of my projects these days, some of it has to do with Chicago. A city, presence, and history that looms rather large in my mind the further and further I travel from it. I would love to infuse more Los Angeles into my work. I absolutely love the feel and rhythm of the city. But, for now, Chicago holds court for the most part. It gets the podium when it wants. Lots hours and miles and years traveled there. So there’s raw material aplenty and much of it is too beguiling to just ignore. As I’ve started to do more and more, in the early stages of research and circling something in my head, I tend to collect photos.

I’ve discussed how much I absolutely love and am drawn to the still photograph. How it represents a diving board for my imagination, one rooted in reality. A hair trigger to a story or a scene or an emotion that often spins into something else. So, today, rather than do some work or read, as I told myself I would do on what is probably my last day of vacation in a long, long time, I instead meander through the stacks and stacks of photo streams on Flickr, searching for images of Wicker Park, the neighborhood I lived in for nearly fifteen years in Chicago. Wicker Park has its history and I won’t quite get into here, yet. I’m sure I’ll wade into that hot button topic (in the years that I lived there, Wicker Park became ground zero/an international case study for the effects, both positive and negative, of Urban Gentrification) at some point when I do begin work on this project. (To be clear, it’s not a TV or Film project, so it’s clock is strictly my clock, so who knows when exactly that will be.) Simply what I mean to say before I roll out the photos is that in seeing these streets, where I not only lived, but also worked for so long. Spending my time locked up in this one stretch of Chicago, maybe one half of a square mile at best, twenty-four seven, at all hours of the day and night. That I’m struck by the grittiness of Chicago, compared with Los Angeles. That’s not to say L.A. doesn’t have it’s truly rough parts. Maybe it’s the constant sun, or the way the landscape breaks – whatever it is, L.A. doesn’t strike me as so compact and constructed and old. It doesn’t have the same rawness I see in these photos. Anyways. Here is Wicker Park, circa early 21st Century, about three years past the apex of the gentrification battle.

That's the Six Corners, formed by the intersection of Milwaukee, North, and Damen Ave. It's the heart of Westown, which is Wicker Park, Bucktown, and the Ukrainian Village. The road, North Ave, on the left, is a border between Bucktown and Wicker Park. I lived and worked within two-three blocks of this intersection for nearly a decade. That's downtown in the distance behind the Flat Iron Building.

The Coyote Building which is where the previous picture was taken from. The neighborhood's internationally acclaimed art walk takes its name from this building. The art walk is simply known as "Around The Coyote."

This is taken of the corners from the Flat Iron building. It also captures the Chicago, I recall most - overcast, rainy.

The main alleyway, off of Damen Ave. I can tell this is taken right at the mouth of the alley, which means if you look at the previous photo and locate the North Community Bank sign, next to the Blue Line El Platform, the photographer was just around the corner from there, a quarter of a block. I lived in an apartment that was two buildings down on the right and another one that was five buildings down on the left.

The Damen Ave El stop, which I lived several doors down, right across the park when I first moved to the neighborhood. Three stops and you're in the Loop. This is directly opposite the mouth of the alley in the photo above.

Outside the Double Door, a rock club next to the mouth of the alley. The Rolling Stones played here. Among many other big, small, unknown and friends bands. It's called Double Door because it has this door on Damen and another door on Milwaukee, just around the corner. That's big June, the longtime doorman. Whenever he was working I had an all-access pass. I used to raid there ice machine when ours down the street at Nick's would break down in the summer.

Some folks hanging on Milwaukee Ave, a couple of doors down from the corners. Looks like just outside Earwax Cafe.

This is inside Earwax Cafe. I knew Nick the own, through my fellow Wicker Park Ex-Pat, Brett. Earwax started out as a used CD/eclectic video rental/cafe/hangout spot. Fifteen years later is would evolve into an eclectic cafe with a progressive menu written up favorably in the NY TImes Sunday Section. Which was pretty cool to see.

Night time in the six corners. There are somewhere, or were, in the order of fifty or so bars, taverns, clubs, and dives - some of which saty open until 2 a.m., others until 4 a.m. in a fifteen block radius (if that) around the corners. This looks like an early week night. Pretty slow. I worked right in the heart of this for most of my doorman/bartending career.

Heilman Cold Beer signs. They're all over the place. Along with Pabst. Many, because of the Polish Heritage of the neighborhood, don't say "Cold Beer" they say "Zimne Piwo" which is cold beer in polish. Don't let the door hit you in the dupa on the way out!

The Pontiac Cafe, after my time there, which was the most infamous of bars and dives that I tended bar at. This is also the bar where I had my last drink. Served by Johnny Angel, who also got me sober. How do you like that for irony? In my time, we didn't have that plank/boundary thing - that was city mandated after it was discovered Buddy, the owner, didn't have the proper permits for it. in my day anything that was concrete was patio, so the patio was twice that area. Man, this place....It still defies words (not in a good way.) It's closed now. Which is as it should be. This is one building over, and on the other side of the El Tracks, from the Double Door picture above

Inside the Pontiac Cafe, at the corner of the bar, which was the place that you wanted to be. Guess who is standing, just to the left here? That's right. That's me. Beardless. Looking sharp. Must've been on my way out to dinner or something. It's almost ten years ago. I've definitely stopped drinking and all that, based on the people around me. I'm talking to Gina Black of The Blacks, a country-punk band and a Pontiac waitress. Crazy isn't it? I found this photo by accident on Flickr. I was startled to notice myself standing there. Seems like forever and a day.

I think last night’s brief entry on frustration got away from me! I didn’t mean to imply that I would quit the blog. And I know there are a good many readers out there, checking in week to week. I had hoped to inspire any questions that some may have, that I hadn’t gotten to in my unplanned ramblings, which might give me a track to rumble down for a bit, content-wise.

There is one just asked that’s rather timely (thanks, Colin!) as I was asked the same question at Jacob’s birthday get together in the park this past Sunday and I got caught flat footed by it. Even though it’s something I’ve considered internally in my thoughts. As Sunday demonstrated, though, I’ve never articulated my thoughts regarding it. We’ll delve into more of that tomorrow – as I’m going to try to switch gears a bit to more of a daytime posting ritual as part of my work routine.

Anyone see the Time magazine article on Jonathan Franzen, writer of The Corrections. Grew up in Webster Groves, a suburb of St. Louis. The same suburb where we once lived and I was born. Anyways, in the article there is a brief paragraph on his writing space and equipment, along with a picture. It’s quite fascinating. To sum up: It’s a small, ancient looking industrial office computer cart type desk  with a hard backed chair against a blank white wall. The only thing on the desk is a rather clunky early Dell laptop and THAT’S IT!  Yes, there is no one scrap of paper. Not one picture. Not one knicknack in the whole darn space. Desk, wall, chair, dinosaur computer. I didn’t even see a lamp. Very impressive.

More importantly, and something that I hope to do one day, is remove all ability to access the internet from the machine and remove all time wasting games, etc.. from the software files. Apparently, Franzen customized the machine – going all the way down to the programming language to eradicate games from the hard drive, removing the wireless card physically from the computer, and then taking an ethernet cable – pouring superglue in the ethernet port on the laptop – jamming the cable in and whacking off the permanently attached head from the rest of the cable. Amazing! I love it. I’ve always pined for a computer to work on that’s completely and utterly free of the internet and any other distractions.

Also, as a side note to the writers who are reading this, it took Jonathan Franzen ten years to produce Freedom (at 562 pages.) But, as he talks about it in the article, the first seven or eight produced NOTHING usable. He wrote, but kept throwing stuff away, heading down this blind alley, then that one. Finally, after all this time, he had six pages of a female character. It was the first set of pages he didn’t throw away in almost a decade. From there, he cranked out the first draft in ONE YEAR! Probably rewrote it over the course of another.

Lessons from this:

-Every story told is an excavation.

-Character is the light that cuts best through the dark of uncertainty.

-Plot follows Character, not the other way around.

More tomorrow. I leave you with a few photos (because I haven’t done that in a bit) that I found through Google Reader where I track many different news sources on the net. One folder is dedicated to photoblogs. I love the simplicity of a picture a day. Here are two, of a set, that I find captivating and haunting in the most beautiful way possible. Without further rambling:

Dawn On A City Street In Toronto

A Few Minutes Later

I will say this about the photos: I was drawn to them specifically from the many years I worked until dawn at a Four A.M. bar called Nick’s Beer Garden. I lived several blocks away, basically around the corner. There is something strange, beautiful, and beyond peaceful about a city right as the darkness breaks and morning spills in. All the windows dark and the doors shut on the last moment of stillness. My feet on the sidewalk pavement. The Tribune truck dropping fresh stacks in the boxes on the corner. Everything about to happen, not quite yet, but soon.

Thanks for listening to me vent yesterday. I always appreciate the ear.

One thing that pops up in the experience is just how much, yet again, there’s such an obvious benefit to having a writing partner, or at the very least a tight knit community to plug into after an experience. So much of this business are moments like last night, or better versions of them. You would think it’s all writing, at home alone. Sadly, not true. Most of the time it is all about the strange, and always emotionally taxing dance of development that must happen before anything else does; well, that as well as endless, frustrating days – no, weeks – of waiting. If I were on my own and had no one to bounce these experiences off of, it would take days, and far too much emotional energy, to work through them on my own. Sure, it’s possible. But I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Seriously.

Okay, enough shop talk. Tomorrow, my dear friends Brett and Jennifer are leaving for a surprise Paris trip to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary. Mazeltov, both of you. Have the trip of your lives. Thank God Brett came looking for me at the Pontiac all those years ago! It’s wonderful to see one small, seemingly inconsequential event, in concert with a fantastic orchestra of events big and small, blossom into the beautiful family you have today.

That’s all I’ve got for tonight. Go hug someone you love. Let them know how special they are to you. Then do something nice for the both of you. It’s always worth it.

Oh, wait. forgot two things:

I promised a picture of Dave. He’s a tough one to take pictures of, so this is an older one from his owner. But it really captures Dave in all his Daveness. Love this dog. So easy going!

And of course, Dennis Hopper passed today. He had been, as we all knew, quite sick. Still sad, though. Here’s the post I wrote on it, awhile ago, AMERICAN RACONTEUR, if you’re so inclined.

Literally, most all of my day was laundry. Not exactly how I would’ve preferred to spend the day, but one has to do what one has to do to keep the basics rolling along. I also did some serious grocery shopping. I know, stop the presses, crazy stuff. I have to admit that I absolutely hate to do laundry and if I’m flush with cash will go the fluff and fold, drop-off route. Yup, that’s how much I dislike having to do it. Something about the amount of time it takes and the whole rigamarole of sorting it, and folding it, etc… My Uncle is a laundry champ. Seriously, he should have a high end laundromat. Even in the drop-off world I have never experienced a fold that is as smooth and as symmetrically perfect as the fold that he can do – and fast, too. It’s simply amazing and, while it’s not the reason I jet over to Scottsdale when I get a moment to do something fun for myself, it’s a nice perk of the visit! I think if he could open a joint that does a professional fold like that – as a special service “Wash your clothes, then we’ll fold  ’em for a price.” – with some comfortable chairs and a few good movies playing on screens throughout, or sporting events when they’re on, maybe some lamps instead of the overhead florescent and newsstand in back with a few good paperbacks, we could clean up.

One good thing comes out of laundry day, though. Sure, having clean clothes is always nice. I’m not gonna argue with you there. To be honest, Laundry day was late this time around thanks to the writing bender at the start of the week. That’s okay, though. When your writing like that, in all honesty, your in your PJ’s for a couple of days, so your buying yourself some time. Of course, if you make a snack run or a coffee run, you end up in the Starbucks in your PJs, but that’s the price you pay. This time, that wasn’t a consideration. I was hunkered down, with a full run of supplies. (Which reminds me of a bartender in Chicago who used to come in for his day shift, ’cause he would work the night before on the door until 5 or 6 in the morning then open at noon, in his PJ’s, every saturday. It became his signature after awhile.) Anyways, this has been a looong tangent to get to the one good thing that comes from laundry day and that’s fresh sheets, just washed. Sure you’ve got the back-up sets in the linen closet and all that jazz, but there’s something truly special about sheets that have just been washed that day. I don’t know what it is, but it’s magical. Always a better night of sleep. When Nikki and I were still together at the Winchester apartment in Chicago, there were four apartments and we shared a washer/dryer in the hallway, so it was almost like you had a washer/dryer. Always the night before a birthday, or Christmas, or Thanksgiving, one of us would make sure to wash the sheets and all that. It was always a small little thing to do on the night before a birthday for your significant other, or to both do before a holiday. Tonight, I will have laundry day sheets and, actually, when I turn out the lights and am drifting off to sleep it will make the day’s effort all worthwhile.

Thought I’d say hi. That I didn’t really “feel” the Lost episode tonight (just watched it off the DVR.) And just check in. I have a mega-ton of work to do. I spent most of today attacking it. Wasn’t my best day. Wasn’t my worst. Tomorrow, I get another shot at it. Four weeks left. Well, less than four weeks actually (three weeks and six days.) In that time, I am looking at my 434 feature, the feature Jason and I are tackling for Alan @ Right Brain (almost done, cross your fingers/say some prayers – we hope to get paid something for this one), rewriting my play (which needs serious work, not a light pushing about of punctuation,) an original one-hour pilot, and a spec one-hour pilot, as well as anything needed for Clipped when we start actively developing and pitching that. That is a lot. It’s, in fact, a little excessive. I’m sure I’m forgetting something important in there, as well. What can you do? It will get done. It always gets done. That’s what it’s there for – to get done and done well.

Did I mention I still haven’t watched The Lovely Bones? Netflix loves me. Still thinking, way back in the oven, about my next play. I want it to be a two-hander. On the fence about that, though. That’s a lot of heavy lifting, you know? Two characters. Ninety or so pages (or am I crazy, Tiff?) Also, thinking about that first novel – about 10,000 words/300 pages, right? I think so.I have it written down somewhere. First one would be in the vein of Elmore Leonard/Michael Connelly/Dennis Lehane/John Sanford/James Ellroy. Genre/Chicago/Crime/Gritty, but some fun to read. Still circling the seed of that. More to follow when the time is right.

Well, I was going to write about how much I enjoy cover songs, or get into the Cardinals a bit because they’ve been playing some pretty strong baseball lately. It really appears the bats are waking up and stabilizing a bit, so they’re not relying solely on the long ball, which can be dangerous because in baseball slumps happen and in St. Louis, in particular, small ball (or as the faithful still refer to the speedier version of it as “Whiteyball” after the great St. Louis Manager Whitey Herzog a.k.a. The White Rat) is the only true way to play baseball. More on that and all things Whitey some other day. As far as the cover songs that’ll have to wait, too. I’ve recently plundered the internet and amassed a war chest of great versions of hits by a fascinating constellation of unique interpreters which have crafted some truly wonderful variations on these standards. I’ll simply say, it’s always captivating for me when you take a song, strip it of its expectations and recast it in a very different light. Often times what occurs for me is that the lyrics (what can I say I’m writer, even if I pine to be a musician deep in my heart of hearts?) often take on a whole new shine and power – revealing the subtlety of their story much more clearly. Someday, as an addendum I will get into just how much song lyrics, and in particular my sister Caroline, influenced me heavily at a very young age – or rather her musical tastes did – and really played an incredibly key role in making me a writer and the kind of writer I am today.

But alas, what I had intended to get into a paragraph ago (Hey, I’m sorry. I’m tired. Still a bit scattered and well, would like to go watch The Pacific and Breaking Bad before bed, which comes really early now) is the new play idea I danced around last night a bit. I of course had playwriting today, which is always grand. Turns out the playwright Sheila Callaghan, of the play Tiffany and I loved on Thursday night – Lascivious Something – was my professor, Hanay’s T.A. when she was at UCLA (His best T.A., according to Hanay.) So we got some brief stories and Hanay remembrances about the playwright. In the context of this afternoon discussing playwriting and reading pages by some of the other playwrights, I believe I cracked how I would handle this new idea – the second one – which is all dependent on how I frame it and approach the physicality of the story. It again would largely happen in one space, or at least there would be one set on the stage, another physcial space, and even time, would be indicated by two chairs down front left or right in a separate pool of light. Now the next decision is whether I’m going to go all August: Osage County on the set and make two or three levels. That’s asking a lot. This one would be set in Chicago as well, would be faintly autobiographical, not involving any of the time I lived there though – which I’m sure sounds odd. You’ll see when I write it. Anways, I think I may very well be in the midst of a Chicago trilogy of plays. Very interesting. I didn’t think of it quite like that, but it all makes sense. Even number three….might just have another new idea for another play.

Have an excellent day out there!

This weekend, my dear, dear friend Elissa, (from Chicago) was in town. She’s a big time, hard-working class action/worker’s rights lawyer back in the windy city and an old movie buddy of mine. It was a treat to see her. I’ve been thwarted, more times than I care to count, in attempts to return to Chicago to visit friends their. Either, I had the money, but couldn’t get away because of some deadline, or I didn’t have the money, but had all the time in the world (usually in the summer.) It’s been frustrating, to say the least. On just a personal level now that almost three years have passed, I’ve been dying to go back just to see the city again, visit the old neighborhood, and just be on its streets again for old time’s sake. I lived their so long that I would experience, if it’s possible, the thrill of visiting Chicago; which I remember so fondly from when I was little and would come with my parents, as well as in college in Milwaukee when we would jet down for various escapades. It was, and always will be, my first “big city” – the capital of the midwest – and carries all the thrill and electricity when visiting that it means to go to a big, cosmopolitan place where roads from all over converge. L.A. feels slightly different than that. First of all it’s big, so much bigger than any other huge capitaleseque city I’ve ever been in. There is nothing close or compact about it. Secondly, and more importantly, it’s incredibly de-centralized. Incredibly, almost maniacally so. Therefore, it feels more like a grab bag of towns, villages, and a few small almost-cities loosely arranged in one general spot everyone refers to as “Los Angeles.”

Regardless, I digress. With Elissa in town, I traveled over to Echo Park, where she is staying with another old friends of hers, Julia, whom I know also from Wicker Park in Chicago (the old ‘hood.) Julia’s been out here awhile – since 2002, or so. We had not crossed paths yet. Turns out Elissa is here because all her close girlfriends were getting together here to kind of have an informal reunion. Some had moved on from Chicago and it had been a long time since they had all been together in one place. In the midst of this, Julia had just moved and was throwing a kind of house warming party, which is where I caught with Elissa and the rest of the crew – most whom I know fairly well from Elissa. It was great to sit and chat and catch up. Elissa’s always been such a good friend. For a long time we went to the movies weekly – usually on a Tuesday night, or Wednesday. I mean over years. She was in law school by then. We had met through the bar business. She had been a Server when I first met her, then got out to go to law school. It was a wonderful ritual.

Echo Park, though, to give you an idea is way on the east side of L.A. Remember back in the 80′s when latino comedians like Paul Rodriguez and Cheech Marin would make jokes about ‘East L.A.?” (I think they even made a movie, right? Born in East L.A.?) That’s Echo Park. It was the barrio once upon a time. Now, it’s one of three neighborhoods in L.A. where there’s been some gentrification – not completely – but some and a ton of Hipsters flooded the area. Most all of L.A.’s music scene is actually centered in and around there – the bands all live there, the clubs where they start out are all there. It’s its own world almost, because it’s so east. So, heading over to see Elissa was an adventure – which in L.A. is always fun. Again, vast being the key word. In traffic, this neighborhood is over an hour away; but without traffic is more like a half hour. The terrain is a bit bit different – very hilly and the streets are quite twisty. It’s much grittier (in certain parts); but really just reminiscent of places in Chicago that were a lot rougher – like Humboldt Park in the late 90s, Wicker Park in the early 90′s, and Ukrainian Village in the mid-90s. So, in a lot of ways, it felt like I was traveling back to Chicago (and in time) by going to the party.

Julia’s apartment is in what must’ve been a mansion of some kind, or, possibly, a municipal building. It was this epic columned, old, stately two story, high up on this steep hill (we’re talking four flights of stairs just to get to the front door.) The building had been carved into 2 bedroom and 1 bedroom apartments some time ago. The interior was very vintage. Julia’s apartment had some detail that was period (maybe 50s, maybe 30s.) She was up on the second floor, with an amazing view. At the party their was a tarot card reader, so I got my cards read. One word that came up in my reading, unprompted, was “teacher.” The spiritualist felt strongly that being a teacher was a part of my future. (Also, Jason – as long as we are cautious in our negotiations – financial success, professionally, should be coming soon. Very soon.) The last element was that I would find love, as long as I wasn’t guarder – but rather open to it – in the next two weeks to two months. So, somebody remember that and we’ll check back in August, see how things turn out. I think my odds are good.

Good night!

It’s running late and I’m overdue to hit the sack; so let’s dive right in:

- I highly suggest you check out Jason’s blog entry for tonight. In it, in the highlighted section, part way down he lays out our process, which is fairly unique for writing partners, and details a wonderfully clear sense of the actual back and forth. The entry’s a must read, if you’re curious how we do what we do. Which arguably allows us to write more, better, faster in a much less stressful fashion. That might be the catch – the less stress. Either way, it’s an ace up the sleeve for us, in a big, big way.

-Trying to get to sleep earlier and wake up earlier. I am tasked by my sleep psychologist to get into bed at 11 p.m. I’m sure everyone is having a real good laugh at the thought of that. Let’s just say it’s 1:30 a.m. now, so it’s not exactly happening yet. But, then, I’m to be lights out, no later than 1  a.m. and up at 8 a.m. Then (this is the key part) I’m to go outside first thing, take a twenty-thirty minute walk, in the sun so that I can reset my biological clock which should lead to a more regular sleep pattern.

- Cardinals are on the west coast, but didn’t stop in L.A. It’s like they’re taunting me. That’s completely unfair.

-We tentatively resolved the situation around our TV pilot which is with the production company where we’re doing the screenplay. Our manager got in there today, and while we have not heard from him yet, officially, we did hear from our friend who works at the company and was privy to the mood post conversation between the director of development and our guy. It’s not a big staff, as most of these companies aren’t, so it’s pretty ground zero.

-This is good news, right? Yeah. (He begrudgingly says.) It’s tough to get too excited. This is just another climb up on the rollercoaster – there will be, sooner rather than later, a screaming descent. It’s just the nature of things, especially in this business. Before we get too ahead of ourselves, we want to hear from our Manager and get his thoughts, first person, on the whole thing.

-Need to get back to the gym, soon; or take more walks!

-Jason wrote the first sixteen pages today on the desert screenplay. So, I am really jazzed by that. They were fantastic as expected and really launched us into the story in a perfect manner. So now we’re off and running on that project along with the others. We may have to do work next week on the TV Pilot at the production company. Somehow, though, this desert movie is really number one with a bullet on our slate of projects. Just something about the story. Can’t wait to see where we take it.

-Going to get to see an old, dear friend this weekend. She’s out with her boyfirend, visiting a bunch of folks she knows. They’re in from Chicago. I haven’t had a chance to see her since I left Chicago. So it will be lovely to see her.

-What’s your favorite color?

Hahaha. That last one, I just thought I’d slip in. My answer is orange. I’m not sure why, but always has been. Though, I would never wear an orange suit; I have painted an entire kitchen Orange in the first apartment I shared with my ex, and still good friend, Nikki. It was a bold color choice, for sure.  We liked it at first, but then realized it was a little….intense?  Tough to say. It was a garden apartment, so not much light.

Good night and Good day!

Kind of conked out early last night, thus no post. That’s been happening to me more and more lately. I wonder if my body is finally starting to rebel and force me to go to sleep at a more normal hour. We shall see about that!

- Okay. The Cardinals are in first and were looking pretty darn good up until this week. I’m not hitting the panic button yet, but a few trends alarm me. In short order: What happened to Chris Carpenter’s fastball? Is it me, or is the entire right side of the bullpen taking on water already? Apparently, the only way we score runs is by hitting home runs. Will Brendan Ryan find his stroke again? Is Tony mad because their winning, but he can see the warning signs; or this line-up is so non-flexible he can’t switch the batting order around every day to torture the press and keep himself engaged?

- Met an old friend who’s living out here, has been for awhile, works as an actor. He’s been in national commercials, guest spots on shows, and is a company member of Tim Robbin’s Actor’s Gang (or their equivalent, I’m not sure there’s a formal arrangement like most theater troupes.) We met in Silverlake, which was a rare journey to the east side.  George has been out here a lot longer than I have, actually. Anyways, Silverlake feels a lot like Wicker Park in Chicago, so that was fun. I walked up to coffee shop where we met and it was like I was instantly transported back.

- Had a conference call (Jason and I) with the lawyer today. He had spoken with the manager and they had hatched a game plan to go out to Agencies in the next few days, basically pitching us for representation – putting a team together (of Agents) to cover both TV and Feature. It is quite an amazing thing to have these two, experienced individuals out there, doing this for us. Hopefully (say some prayers) it gets us to where we need to go.

-Still want an ipad, really bad!

-Started back in on my play lately. I feel, honestly, quite disconnected from it and, uncharacteristically, nervous about not being able to write the second act. I just need to sit down and blow it out. But, for various reasons, that’s been tricky this week. I would chalk it up to Spring fever, the end of school, too many other things going on; but it’s not really that. In all honestly, it’s just fear. Plain old, boring fear that I can’t fdo it. I can’t finish the thing – which is actually ridiculous. It’s inevitable (not because it’s for a class, but rather because the first is solid enough to dictate the completion of it) that I will finish it.

- I miss my dear friend Tiffany! I could use some theater and a poker night or two.

- If you haven’t yet, you should check out Jakob Dylan’s latest solo album, Women & Country, with miss Neko Case featured as a back-up vocalist on most all of the tracks. That’s one of things I love most about Neko, she seems to be willing to go wherever and do whatever – if it it’s intriguing. She’s even going out on tour with Dylan, to sing his songs. I really admire that spirit of collaboration. It is a fantastic quality to have in one’s life.

I think that’s it. For now. More tomorrow.