Thursday, February 14, 2008
Finished in LA -- Booksoup on Sunset Blvd. Standing room only -- seriously. [A friend sent this picture -- with a "special guest" in the audience]. Bret's got some fans out there. He introduced me and said some very kind words. My boy Jon flew out to hang out and we gawked at the bodies lying around the pool at the Standard where everyone looks just like somebody. The food was incredible. The girl who cut my hair is leaving LA but still did a decent job for a fair price. Thanks to Dennis and Jack and Monique and Tyson and Joseph and Jeff Hobbs and others who braved the brisk 58 degree evening to see/hear Bret and me. (but no thanks to the very sketchy, sadly demented man at the end of the signing line who asked if there were celebrities in the store and proceeded to tell me that Keanu Reeves molested him and his sister and he wanted my help and it was just me and him in the back of the store and no one else and his right hand was buried in his jacket pocket as though clutching something...time to go!)
Otherwise, simply Magical for me. And Creighton Vero has written something special, his adaptation of THE DELIVERY MAN for the screen is explosive. I read three scenes -- trying to be objective but getting goosebumps reading the names Michele and Chase in Final Draft form -- and it's amazing. Had a nice meeting with Ryan Howe of Whitsett Hill Entertainment aka The Producer, and Creighton at the Standard. Cliche alert: Producer, screenwriter, both with perfectly spiked, coiffed hair, looking the part in the best possible way, sitting poolside with writer of the novel being adapted on the blue astroturf under a bright yellow sun surrounded by topless women slathered in oil, face down on chaises and cute little waitresses with white tennis skirts and argyle socks and sneakers...trying to talk about increased production budgets, scouting locations, landing a director, talent that will be available, how many people might want a role in this thing, trips to Vegas. Cliches become cliches for a reason. I was living one. Who am I to complain?
Everyone in San Francisco, Peter at City Lights especially, was so kind. In Portland, Powells, amazing. And thanks especially to my new crew in Portland who took me out and fed me mac 'n cheese. What a great, gray city. Seattle ... thanks to those who braved the ... cold? ... to come out. Both of you!
And Las Vegas. Yes, it's true, standing with Jeanine at the Avis counter trying to get our car, the kind man in the red vest says, "for 5 bucks more a day I can put you in, say, a Mustang convertible." Readers of the book will get this. We stuck with the Ford Taurus....yeah, right. Scott Dickensheets was special enough to be there, way across town, after another long week of making the Las Vegas Weekly the best newspaper in Vegas. And to Kendra -- if you read this -- get in touch. And thanks for speaking up and reaching out. And to Jose and friends -- it meant a whole lot meeting you and hearing your stories. Thanks for making the trip so memorable. And obviously Mike at KNPR for the questions and for saving my publisher cab fare by driving me to Mandalay Bay. (should have stayed at the Palms).
But home again, at last. Julien took a couple of steps today, right into my arms.
Fade to black.