Thursday...


Mar. 9, 2006

Took Zachary to the beach again, this time with Velina.

In San Francisco the only people who go to the beach generally are tourists who think all of California is sunny, and stoners who know it is a place to be alone - if you don't mind the shivering tourists. In LA the beach is a much more egalitarian experience. Families, whole school classes on field trips, teenagers on class-cutting dates. It was fun.

Runthrough went much better. Took like ten minutes off the show. I asked Tim if he wants to go back to my original idea of a one act, but we are both concerned that the show will be too much in one gulp. Afterwards I'm looking for Brent to ask him a question, and somebody says "Hey, Michael! Come here! You should talk to Arianna!" I go over, and there is a striking looking woman standing by the stairs - and I mean striking looking in a good way. "This is Michael - he's the writer. This is Arianna Huffington." Now this was another situation I never thought I'd be in. I have a long conversation with Arriana Huffington about my play, which she thinks is brilliant. Yes, she said brilliant! And she's a good talker! I really could have talked to her much longer - and not just because we were talking about me! Brilliant! She's damn bright, asks good questions, and makes clear points. One thing, though - being European she's a close talker. I still have to get used to that. I kept having to remind myself not to back up during the conversation. I mean I really had to say in my head "Don't back up!" I said this until I felt the banister bump me in the butt. I'd backed up about three feet. Next time I'm going to lean forward. My chance for an intimate tete a tete with Arianna.<p>Next morning I get a messege. It's Arianna. she wants to know if I would be interested in blogging my 1984 experience on her website. Wow. I'm not ever sure how to do that, but cool. I tell her I kinda have a blog/diary going, and she says fine, I'll have two. I have to get to work on that. For one thing I have to re-create my life since I started this project. I think I'll make myself taller. So she gives me her number, personal email, and I tell her I'll be in touch when I'm back at my home computer. This is getting weird. (Eventually I actually wrote for Huffingtonpost.com, but not about 1984.)


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