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3:52 pm - Tues 7/17/07
Envelopes and Post-Its (Part II)

Envelopes and Post-Its (Pt II)

Tues 7/17/07 (11:11 a.m.)

On the most recently updated list of “World’s Most Expensive Cities”, L.A. was #42, which is down from #29 last year (New York City, where I always thought I was going to end up, was #15).

It makes me wonder, “Did other cities get more expensive this year?”. Cause it doesn’t seem to me like L.A.’s gotten any cheaper.

(For the record, L.A. and NYC were the only two American cities to make the “Most Expensive” list)

_________________________ just came out with their list of “Best-Reviewed Movies” for the first half of 2007.

Of their Top-10, I’ve seen:

1. Away From Her
2. Once
3. Knocked Up
4. Hot Fuzz
5. Sicko
6. Zodiac
7. Waitress

(I hadn’t seen any of the “Worst-Reviewed”)


For a long time, I’ve wondered which came first in the 90s–the bank-robbery/gunfight in the movie Heat, or the real life bank-robbery/gunfight in North Hollywood (Were the real life robbers, who wore body armor and were packing automatic weapons, inspired by the movie, or was the scene in the movie inspired by the real-life incident? Because they seem similar enough that somebody must have inspired somebody).

I’m the kind of guy who wonders about things like this, but is typically too lazy to do the legwork to find out. But now this info is just a few mouse-clicks away, so when I recently saw Heat on tv, I looked it up: Heat came out in December of ‘95, while the North Hollywood shoot-out happened over two years later.


The song “Falling Slowly” from Once is my favorite love song of recent vintage. It’s so beautiful I get a little teary when I hear it.

I am a single, middle-aged man with a cat.

And that being the case, I’m a little sensitive to jokes on tv about single, middle aged guys with cats (Basically being that they’re the height of lonely pathetic-ness).

And if you’re not a single, middle-aged guy with a cat, you probably don’t notice it, but those jokes come up more often than you might imagine.

I want to say, “What the hell’s wrong with me having a cat?”, but I get what they’re driving at–Cat ownership suggests a guy who can’t sustain human relationships, and is even too lazy and commitment-phobic for the demands of having a dog.


Some time back, I told Javier–my therapist–that after the Virginia Tech shooting, I wished I’d been able to convince the killer to kill himself–cause he was obviously a waste of space on the planet--but leave innocent people out of it.

During the resulting conversation, Javier suggested that I “protect people from my anger” by taking it on myself (As if I were saying the same thing to myself that I wanted to say to the Virginia Tech murderer–“Kill yourself before you kill anyone else”).

It’s an interesting notion, and the idea has come up in therapy before– but it doesn’t feel “right” to me.

My anger–rage, really (“anger” doesn’t cover it)--has always been directed more at myself than others. That’s totally true. But I don’t think it’s a particularly altruistic impulse on my part.

As a child, it was simply the best coping-mechanism I had at my disposal.

And now, as an adult, I think that ancient coping-mechanism has been layered over with practical “adult considerations” as well, considerations having more to do with my safety and well-being than with my urge to “protect” others–I can “lash out” at myself as much as I want (If I slap myself in the face--or punch myself on the thigh or in the stomach--while I’m at home, who cares?). But to turn that rage outwards, to “lash out” at others–bosses, customers, casting people, etc.-- could mean getting fired, going to jail, and getting invited out even less than I do now.


Four romantic movies I like:

1. Children Of A Lesser God
2. Officer And A Gentleman
3. Fabulous Baker Boys
4. Before Sunset (Which reminds me–I’ve still never seen Before Sunrise. I want to check that out sometime...)


One of the things Cary and I discussed the last time we spoke is how our democracy has become subsumed by capitalism, when it should be the other way around (And I know–we’re a “Republic”, not a “Democracy”–but you know what I’m driving at).

The conversation we had crystallized the disgust I have with the society I live in, where the making of money trumps every other consideration.

And I’m not too hopeful that we’re going to turn that around before it’s too late.


There’s something that seems to trouble me about making so much money from my blink-and-you’ll-miss-it participation in the Propel commercial (I’m going to the bank after this to deposit another yet-another residual check).

My mind won’t let go of the fact that it’s “weird” to make thousands of dollars from such a “stupid” thing (At this point, I’m pretty sure I’ve made more from that bit of nothing than from everything else I’ve done out here put together). I have to constantly persuade myself that it’s “okay”, that I’ve “earned the right” to make a shitload of money from this thing, even if it feels worthless to me (Obviously, it’s worth something to somebody, or else I wouldn’t be getting paid).

I’m not going to start sending the checks back, don’t get me wrong. This just conflicts with my sense of getting paid for something “valuable”, something–as I said in my last entry–that’s “worth doing”. It makes me realize that I crave not just money in my career, but meaning. A “sense of purpose”, if you will.

I have another “internal conflict”, though not nearly as pressing, centered around my cat Kipper.

He’s declawed (I’m his third owner; the first owner was the one who did the deed). And I’ve read enough to know that it’s wrong to declaw a cat, that’s it painful and cruel and so-forth.

But honestly? I love that he’s declawed. I love that he’s declawed, and I think I’m more loving towards him because he’s declawed; I’m not frustrated or resentful that he’s scratching up my stuff, and I’m not afraid of him scratching the shit out of me, as a subtle way of letting me know he’s had enough of being held or petted or what-have-you (Or even accidently poking me when he crawls on top of me when I’m lying in bed watching tv).

It’s just...weird, to know intellectually that something is “wrong”, but to have reaped a lot of benefit from that “wrongness”.


I want to be one of “the cool kids” in my ACG/AMG/PMG circle, and I undoubtedly am (There was a reason Tammy wanted me to be part of AMG–She saw me as being amongst a core group of serious “heavy hitters”. And there was a reason Brett asked if I wanted to be part of PMG–He’d seen me work, thought he could make money from me, and now he has).

But that competitive drive has come back to bite me in the ass–First Jen C. books three or four times as many co-star roles as I do, and better ones. Then Kim H. books a lead in a film. And now Joe W. has booked a recurring role on Gray’s Anatomy (He’s one of the new interns, so there’s every possibility he could go from “recurring” to “series regular” in a heartbeat).

I can handle people having a little success here and there. It’s actually positive, in fact; I’ve often said, to third parties, “it just goes to show that it can actually happen”.

But to have all these people blasting past me at Cause it’s happening because they’re younger and prettier, and no amount of talent or effort on my part is going to change that.

But I knew the deal before I came out here. To quote Mr Pupo, “America only worships youth and beauty”, so I knew success, if it was going to happen, would not come quickly or easily for me.

But success will come. Cause I do have talent, I have a “unique” look, and I’m not going away. I just have to remember to compete with myself, and forget about everyone else.


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