A writer from Queens, NY, but am now living in Los Angeles, CA. Currently not officially employed, but has worked for Paramount Pictures (CBS, some films but mostly tv) and ABC Comedy Development Exec. First I'd like to say that if you've seen Los Angeles, you've seen it all. But I mean _seen_ it. I.e., you've been here for a few months at a time. California is the most fucked up place in the world, yet as an entity itself, it does a great job of representing the fucked-up-edness of the world. I have seen the most detestable things anyone can imagine, yet 15 years a thousand LSD trips, and 12 million cigarettes later, they all seem very commonplace in the context. A middle aged woman smoking a cut-up T.V. antenna full of crack and a bottle of Henessy grappled in her claw once called me sweetie, while kicking her heart-attack-prone husband tied up to an EZ-Boy in the shin. I don't even want to fucking go there.
Well I'm in the stage that just about any writer in the world goes through, writing pieces for Rolling Stone Magazine to pay the rent, ripping up the script that was "the most incredible idea ever" just last weekend, and immersing himself in cigarette butts and bottles of Kahlua. The fucked up stage. So here I am, having my little fun at E2 and enjoying my last few years before im diganosed with every smoking, alcohol, and drug-related disease under the depleting O-Zone. Hope you're not quite as disgusted with my rant as I am,