Half-Empty

The guy I met this weekend from New Orleans was very optimistic about the job market in L.A. He seemed to think of California as the land of opportunity. Like I said, I'm not so sure. I found another interesting response letter from that aforementioned Dear Cary column in Salon that does echo some of the postings in my blog. I will say that I have made no preparations for an earthquake!

Here's the letter from Debbie Downer:

Going West? Bring your bulging wallet

After 15 years in LA, I am so ready to get out of here. The blinding sunlight, every single day, is like living under a bare light bulb. It makes one long for rain, cold, anything different.

The constant fear of earthquakes mean never sleeping naked, keeping shoes under your bed, the water jugs in the car, the gas tank always mostly full- don't laugh, if you were in the Valley during the Northridge quake, you'd know. Checking for the location of the exits on every visit to the theatre.

The apartments that were 700 dollars three years ago are now 2000. First, last deposit- and buy a refrigerator, your place doesn't come with one. The competition for cans and bottles at the dumpsters isn't the homeless anymore. It's the people trying not to be homeless.

As a woman, would you like to know what your sell-by date is? Come out here. It's probably already passed. You just don't know it. You will once you get here, as people feel free to tell you. Men look over your size 6, yoga-buffed shoulder to see if something better/younger is available, and are surprised if you mind.

The film industry, a delightful cash cow for most of my career, is drying up and diversifying to online delivery. Jobs pay *half* what they did 10 years ago. Editing is seen as something anyone can do, and pays accordingly unless one is Union. Camera people are lumped in with amateurs as well. Film festivals are largely the poorly made products of this digital dreck.

The freeways, already legendary, now much worse.

The delightful melting pot of cultures has degenerated into mini-ethnic wars. Goods and services paid for by longtime taxpayers are seen as free stuff by more recent arrivals, who've exhausted the supply. Diapers left on the beaches. All the BBQ pits at the parks staked out by mid-morning. Rumors of million-dollar mansions with their owners on welfare and driving European cars, their kids going to college, for free.

Of all these things, the one thing that has finally broken my heart here is seeing the maverick retailers close their wonderful little boutiques, because the rents have gotten so high. All the trendy redeveloped areas now have the same stores. It's like being in a Fred Flintstone cartoon.

There's still the Coast Highway and there's still the amazing smell of LA at night from a seat at the Hollywood Bowl. But it's not enough for me, anymore.

--Anonymous

How Hard Can It Be?

Watched "My Life on the D-List" with Kathy Griffin tonight. She has an "assistant" and an "assistant to the assistant," and they tagged along with her for a funny bit on the street and then later accompanied her on a trip to Ireland. Nice work if you can get it. They both seemed really young, and the "assistant to the assistant" seemed particularly shy and inexperienced. Kathy Griffin, whom I love, referred to them as "the best friends money can buy."

I did feel somewhat bitter watching all this. I mean PLEASE. I can't believe I have been told by several agencies that they can't place me as an assistant because I "haven't been a personal assistant before." Geez, look at our President. Need I say more?

But timing is everything. By the time I meet that "right" person at a party, I won't want to be a personal assistant anymore. I had just thought it would be fun to do for my first year or two in L.A.

There's another good "Dear Cary" column today, this one about moving from the East to the West: salon.com/mwt/col/tenn/2007/07/27/east_coast_west_coast/

An anonymous letter writer to the column had this to say:

California is magical, and we natives know this, but listen carefully to the song "It never rains in Southern California" before you board that west-bound 747. Do not come here expecting to find yourself, a man, or anything else, because it is most likely that these dreams will be confronted by everyday realities: outrageous insurance, taxes, and real estate, cutthroat competition in all aspects of life, crime, smog, traffic, and flakes who promise to call you for lunch and never do.

A Crazy Date

Went on a third date last night with the guy I ran into on the Yahoo! campus. After he became Mr. Grabby Hands in his penthouse apartment and I told him I wanted to leave, he completely flipped his lid. Lots of yelling and wild accusations, with the browbeating continuing all the way down the elevator and out onto the street. Armchair diagnosis: paranoia. I'm lucky I didn't end up like Lana Clarkson from the Phil Spector case.

I knew it would never work, as he's a Republican and his suggestion of a date movie was "Die Hard 4." Speaking of bad movies, there was a great slew of "letters to the editor" in Salon today about the reasons people don't go to the theaters anymore, with mentions of outrageous ticket prices and superior TV series. Included were compliments to L.A.'s Arclight, Austin's Alamo Drafthouse, and Grosse Pointe Blank. The letters can be found at the end of this article:
http://salon.com/ent/movies/review/2007/07/19/btm/

The Trap

My replacement at work is in her early twenties and used to work at E! Entertainment Television. I had to goad her about all the lame E! True Hollywood Stories about TV shows (what happened to the sex and drug scandals?) and the dumb "news coverage" of magazine covers. Even their "juicy" stories these days are nothing but regurgitated retreads from the other networks, and don't even get me started on all the reruns of SNL episodes that weren't funny the first time around.

Two words: litigious celebrities. I tell you, you can't even get good trash anymore.

I asked her if it was true that salaries were really low there, and she concurred. She had to work two jobs on the side just to make ends meet, but she said that all her friends in the entertainment industry were in the same boat, just barely paying their bills.

She also said that even though she wasn't consciously worried about starting a new job today, she couldn't sleep at all last night. I said, "Welcome to my world."

Astra Taylor of Salon reviewed an interesting-sounding book today called "The Trap" by Daniel Brook. An excerpt from the review:

After reading "The Trap," I'd wager the future we're facing overflows with anxiety and self-loathing. When a generation reared to revere the idea of a meritocracy finds that a college degree -- even one with honors from an Ivy -- doesn't guarantee middle-class comfort, let alone career fulfillment, cognitive dissonance ensues. Parents blame their offspring for failing to succeed (they gave them every advantage, after all), the offspring blame themselves (they jumped through all the right hoops), and few blame the system. As the competition to join or stay middle-class becomes fiercer, solidarity disappears and the barriers to membership in this insecure and apprehensive class grow higher. According to the New York Times, 2007 was the "most selective spring in modern memory at America's elite schools." You can bet that next year another record will be set.

After attending the 9/11 panel last night, I would have to agree that the activist community is tending toward the senior citizen set. In reference to the smaller number of young participants:

Public service and penury, Brook demonstrates, too often go hand in hand. As a result, "the activist community has become an assemblage of idealistic young people taking a few years off before professional school or a corporate job, a handful of liberal trustfunders, and a slew of eccentric nonconformists.

The Metrosexual L.A. Male

Good cartoon in Salon today. These guys ("perfectly coifed, with just a bit of stubble, they wear $300 jeans and tight clingy shirts...sunglasses and cell phones on their ears") are up and down 3rd Street, where I live, and probably all over Austin right now for SXSW. I haven't seen any with little dogs though:

http://www.salon.com/comics/knig/2007/03/14/knig/index1.html