Saw a documentary called "Girl 27" on Friday about the sordid cover-up of a sexual assault at MGM during the 30s. The filmmaker was in attendance for a "Q & A" afterwards, which is always a nice bonus.
On Saturday night I had drinks at a French restaurant with a guy from New Orleans who moved to L.A. in the aftermath of Katrina. Afterwards we went to a party in the Hollywood Hills that was similar to the other one I went to up there-- dreadlocks, hula hoops, and belly dancers. The house was directly beneath the Hollywood sign.
The New Orleans guy seems to have fortuitously stumbled into lucrative work in commercial production. He insisted it was easy to find such work and that I just hadn't "met the right people yet." After months of passing around my resume and "making connections," I'm much less optimistic. I'm pretty certain, in fact, that I'm going to be back behind a reference desk in about two months. I predict that my life here is going to be almost identical to my life in Austin-- working as a librarian again, going to the gym most days of the week, dating endlessly, and maintaining a patchwork of interesting friends around the city.
This morning I had coffee with a psychotherapist. He, of course, is working on several screenplays. We discussed the midlife crisis.
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