The weekend started on Thursday night with the aforementioned shindig at the Hermes Gallery, but Friday really kicked it into high gear. My lunch with Hollywood hotshot producers was scheduled for 1pm on Friday. It was a little crowded and then again not - one producer couldn't make it because her house slid down a hill in Laguna or something but there was more than one hanger-on there than I would've liked. After lunch we went back to his office and I had some alone time with this guy. I told him about the project I was developing and he expressed interest in getting involved. He had a lot of great advice for me and said that I could always call on him for more helpful advice. Turns out that he is very well acquainted with the only actor (so far) who has signed on to the film that I'm producing. He worked with this actor on the next two films the actor made after said actor's star-making film.
I planned on hitting the Hammer bash Friday night, but my phone was blowing up. Taking all the calls was essential to lining up investors for the film, but the constant interruptions made it impossible to get ready in time to hit that shindig. Not that important and besides, it was west of La Brea. We were meeting hotshot TV producer and entourage at Firecracker at 9pm, so there wouldn't be enough time to go west and be back in time.
We got to Firecracker at the perfect time. Turns out I already met this guy. I was trying to place how I knew him when he said that he knew me from somewhere, that I looked really familiar. It finally hit us how we knew each other - we had friends in common other than the guy who put this meeting together. We all slid into a corner booth just as the jazz combo launched into "All Blues", from Miles Davis' classic, Kind of Blue, one of my all-time favorite albums. Especially appropriate since Oscar Brown Jr. passed away recently and he wrote the lyrics to "All Blues". I'm not sure but I think it starts, "The sea, the sky, and you and I, with all blues, all shades, all hues... "
Friday's Firecracker was in celebration of the relaunch of KDAY, so the place was getting packed. Too packed. TV Producer wanted duck, so we hightailed it out of there and went to Hop Woo for duck and other Chinese dishes. Good stuff. I was the only Asian person at the table but these white boys were conversing in Mandarin (or was it Cantonese? I keep getting them mixed up) and I couldn't chime in to save my life. The waiters thought it hilarious, smirking at me as they served the soup and brought more water for tea.
Saturday's lunch was very un-Hollywood. My aunt and uncle/godfather flew in from Guam to celebrate his 75th birthday and their 50th wedding anniversary. The day was spent surrounded by family, with tons of Asian food and a screening of Kung Fu Hustle. I think there were more people watching it in my parent's living room than when I originally saw it at the midnight screening at the Arclight opening night.
Saturday night was crunchy. My astrologer wanted me to meet him at New Expression's Two Year Anniversary Party. I hadn't heard of them before, but he swore that their Monday night readings were something I wanted to get in on and this was an opportunity to meet the organizers. "They have their readings at some cafe in Hollywood, but their party is downtown, because you know, downtown is cool or something," he said, adding, "Hey, you don't have to drive far, so you have to go." I walked up and recognized the guy at the door. I didn't know his name but he read at the last Poetry Soup. I can't say that I was a fan. He did that sing-songy spoken word thing, waving his arms around as if he were a turntablist and aping def poetry jam. I hate that shit. I immediately got on the cell and called my astrologer, "Where are you? I hate you." He didn't think I was serious. Laughing he replied, "The Alameda offramp is closed, but we're almost there. Don't leave, I swear it'll be worth it."
There was an open bar until 9pm, but they only had beer and wine and I needed vodka or tequila. I stood at the bar, waiting for a glass of lukewarm wine when this guy in an ugly Hawaiian shirt with a paper plate perched on top of his protruding gut said to me, "You're in my way." I looked at the plate of warm cheese and the plastic container of veggies in front of me. I tried to be nice and said smilingly, "Can I pass something to you?" He replied, "No, I'll just go around you." As he moved around me, I moved the plate right in front of where he once stood. What an asshole.
The party was just down the street from Little Pedro's. I'd been there before, for an Out In Downtown LA Academy Awards viewing party. I should've gone to their birthday party at the Hellman instead. There were all these faux hippies dancing around a fake tree fashioned out of old newspapers. Astrologer was obsessing over some bozo in a hat. I was considering cutting my losses and cutting out, but L called. He was downtown, he had a script for me, and he wanted a beer. Then the Pat Benatar look-alike called on the astrologer's cell, she just got off work and wanted to join in the fray. Misery loves company so I gave them both directions and decided to tough it out. I went back inside. Earlier one guy told me that he was a "shamedian", a shaman and comedian. I almost did a spit-take. I don't get enough credit for my remarkable restraint. The "shamedian" was onstage doing something awful with two other guys. I think they were going for comedy but it wasn't funny, just painful.
L and the Pat Benatar look-alike showed up, so we ordered more beer and reassessed the situation. It still sucked. I didn't care, I had my script. So we headed for the best Mexican food downtown at Ye Olde Taco House and called it a night.
Sunday was my last chance to hit the LA Art Fest, but I was wiped out. I wanted to go shopping but Sunday isn't the best day to hit the Fashion District. I spent the day reading scripts and making notes instead. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday.