Clearing House Digest of Mostly Unrelated Outbox Items

So I'm TAing an acting class for the entering grad students and they are so cute and fresh and well-rested and I'm so thrilled for them and the ride they are about to go on, this must be what it feels to work on the ride for the Hollywood Hotel of Terror, strapping people in, and one student said something about how she was unable to do something because she busy and I said, "Welcome to film school" and was that a little too bitchy, for the first day? Perhaps.

It's so hot in my apartment that I am trying to understand how outrageously hot it is by imagining that it's really cold outside and just how insane the heat would feel if that were true, though sadly it's not really true. I'm trying to encourage the slightly cooler air to come in the windows by walking around a lot. It's not working.

Our bathroom sink has returned to our bosom and I brush my teeth in its welcoming bowl with such fond joy. The drain was distressingly sluggish when we moved in and plugged up completely after Events Which Will Not Be Discussed and today a man came with a big machine and pulled (are you ready for this?) giant clumps of Former Tenant Hair out of the pipes so the water could run clear again.

Last night in my first directing class I felt smug because I said something quite smart in only eight words and nothing else. I employ a strategy of saying almost nothing in the first class if I can. This is pretty snotty, considering how much I end up saying in class by the end of the term.

Yesterday I made an executive decision that I needed stationary supplies to do all the stuff I have to do and bought lots of exciting things like the very small, brightly coloured Post-Its and a pen and one of those plastic folders with file divider things. Man, I love office supplies.

I also love a proper Autumn, and mourn for the loss of another one of those glorious seasons of rain and leaves everywhere and being bundled and warm in the cold outdoor air.

In Pursuit of World Peace

Dear People of the World, and Particularly, My Neighbourhood:

Please please please please please, when parking your damn car, just scootch up to the end of the curb, will ya? Roll forward, roll back, just don't take up two spaces.

Driving around for 20 minutes at midnight just trying to find a place to leave my car so I can go to sleep is bad enough without the physiological manifestations of rage that I get at seeing your damn Saab stretching out with twelve feet of space off either bumper.

Thanks.

Shilling for Eisner

First, for all you people addicted to the SIMS: a cautionary tale.

Better by far to stick to real-life fun, or, in a pinch, Disneyland.

Yes, so, I spent two days at the Happiest Place on Earth and folks, I tell you, it pretty much lived up to the name. I was with my friends Rhonda and Jason and their daughter Zara (5). First up, do try to visit the magic kingdom with a half-pint. Even if they spend the duration of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride burrowing their head into your torso and screaming, so many other things are just so much more fun with a little kid. For example, watching their facial expression on rides is a source of entertainment all on its own.

[interjection: I just heard what I'm pretty sure was a gunshot. Silverlake, though it has its own charms, is NOT the happiest place on earth.]

The other great benefit of the small child action is how smart Disneyland is when it comes to accomodating what you, obviously, want to do. In the kid case, you want all the grownups to be able to go on the scary fast rides but not have to wait through the duration of two lineups while hanging with the kid. They make it very simple to for the babysitting grownup to jump the lineup. As a result, I got to go on a bunch of rides twice in a row, namely Space Mountain (redux) and the Matterhorn (I really want a similar fake icy peak in my backyard. No roller coaster necessary, just that pretty mountaintop, absurdly small.)

Jason and Rhonda and I enjoyed talking about how Disneyland Disneyland is. It's a strange sensation, and difficult to break down into component parts. Though not impossible. Insanely clean, that's one part. The ground really feels as if it is scrubbed, as Rhonda said, by Doozers all night long while everyone else is sleeping. Clover instead of grass, that's another (more lush, easier to keep green and lays closer to the ground). Steep entrance fees ensure that the people you see slumped on the ground outside the confectioners on Main Street USA are simply tuckered out tourists and if they smell of urine it's cause they're wearing diapers.

But Disneyland was fun. Fuuuuuuuun. You'd think there'd be some part of me filled with a churlish cynicism for all this, but really, there wasn't. As Jason said, Disneyland is the kind of thing Americans do best, and it's pretty spectacular.

My favourite part of the Disney adventure was walking with Zara through Frontierland on the way to the Winnie-the-Pooh ride and seeing a cowboy leaning against a post wearing riduculous furry chaps and then realising that I KNOW the cowboy and not in a Disney character way, in a that's-a-real-person-that-I-have-had-real-conversations-with-and-tied
-up-with-duct-tape way. Yes, it was Mr. Brian Jones, who was in my second 507 film and who is a very fine comic actor. He's a Disneyland cowboy on Fridays. I believe his name is "Clem".

But what can you say for a place that makes me so happy that I can see grown adults wearing tiaras and t-shirts and not feel annoyed?

"See you there"?

Through the Looking Glass (Wonderland II)

Despite the best efforts of that fiery ball of burning hotness, I did, in fact, make it to LA (thank you for sanity, music skills, calmness, conversation and taking the wheel, Mr. Jeremy).

I even moved and everything (no thanks: sun, thanks again: Jeremy). The best part about having Jeremy in town, besides him helping me carry stuff and me actually knowing a thing or two interesting to do in LA, was running into a celebrity on our second day in town. That's right, the hope you have for every visitor who comes to hang out is that you will see someone famous that matters to them. Well thank you 3rd and La Brea Trader Joe's. I'd never seen anyone more interesting there than the Hollywood Hills hoochies who get dressed up to grocery shop. But now, now I understand why they spend so much time in the freezer section wearing little else than a bra and a net poncho. Famous people!

Speaking of which, whilst attending a screening of 2046 at the Nuart with Mr.Golightly, Mr.Chung, Mr.Lane, and their associates, Mr. DeVito and Ms. Pearlman and family sat two rows ahead of us. During the trailers someone came and squatted next to the man's seat and talked to him for a while. Let's all hope it was someone he knew and not someone pitching. During trailers, no less!

Also, my new living space is very cute. I can take showers and watch the sunset at the same time.

Also, I got towed last week. Welcome to LA!

Also, I'm going to Disneyland tomorrow. You think this is a lie, but it is true.

Also, the La Brea Tar Pits are a George Saunders paradise of anamotronic beast action. In particular, the sabre tooth cat ("It's not a tiger!") attacking the sloth. Laughs, laughs and more laughs. And the whole thing stinks like tar.

That's all for now.