Los: Dos

Toasts & latte. Very delightful. Very expensive.

Lunch is weird. Does figuring out where you will sit at lunch ever not feel like high school? I pull up a folding chair into the sun. There are vegan hot dogs in the dinner cart. I am confused about how regular things seem. I knock on a closed bathroom stall and hear the voice of PP grumpily respond.

The 2nd AD called lunch, so I walked a block to a cafe. I had this idea of sitting alone with a grant application. In the ten minutes I was eating a fonut (baked donut) I got three emails and needed to make revisions, copies. My insides rattled, I shoved my junk in a bag, and ran back to set. Later, in the van on the way back to crew parking I heard a makeup artist and tech complain about a mistake I had made with the yellow pages. Cowsk assured me no one cared. I can't get it out of my head and google "making mistakes at work" until I fall asleep. I miss the grant deadline.

Any book about movies could be titled "Where Should I Sit." I sit on an awkward stool. I sit in the writer's seat when she's acting. I sit on the floor across from AG. I am hyper aware of Doing Things Right, and I still print something in the wrong direction.

Call is late. Time to run. Time to walk to the v hip cafe for some work and nosh. Two pieces of toast and a Figeroa espresso is $24. I HAVE to learn to check prices here. There's no wifi. I sweat enough to buy a shirt at Forever 21. It has tiny cocktails on it. I change in the car. Everyone is chipper before a three-day weekend. People all over the country would give up their friends and families to do what they do, and everyone doing it just wants an extra day to have the friends and family back. We go late. The producers buy an adorable cafe truck. A cocoa. I think about how millennials are portrayed in film. I don't remember what happens in chunks of time, namely the chunks before bed.

LA proper: bangs cut, three hour vegan donut writing sesh, a tattoo shop that doesn't tow me, hairs waxed, reading in the sunshine. My temporary roommate is making dinner and I soak up his real pro-ness. A meeting that frustrates me (how do you say you are stupid about X without people thinking you're stupid about Y?) see the show I could join if. It's early and it's Friday, but that's all I have. I try Sneaky Pete, eating donut halves in bed.

7:30 AM SoulCycle in Pasadena. I didn't like it, but I miss vigorous workouts. I'll go again. I worry about this car thing a lot. There are a lot of signs and street parkings and meters. It's about 10-20% of my brain at any given time. I plan to write, but I have to lay down and watch Popstar. I watch every credit. I know many of them. I really enjoy it. At the Echo Park cafe literally everyone has Final Draft open. I meet victoriously. It's hot. I'm in shorts. I drive over to Chicago pals with a lemon tree. I keep asking for advice and everyone says they don't have it, but there's pebbles. Again, what do I do with myself? What is left? I treat myself to Thai while I text Puhg, which is a decent date. I spend a long long time in CVS. When I get home, I crack everything open at once and use it. Face scrub, a nail file, glasses cleaner.

I'm too late to church to sing of Easter gladdness. Oatmilk ginger iced chai. One thing SO LA is all the milks. I love all the milks. We have a girl's brunch. I don't have to think about writing or art or anything. We gossip about dating and gyms and I'm in love with this pink tile and the little bit of grunge here, everywhere. I Yelp donuts. I eat donuts (marshmallow peanut butter and cro-muffin). I send out the draft. I apply for a contest. Did I throw my money in a hole? Someone doesn't. Guy from the past invites me to an improv show. It's seedy but I am happy to go and see this dumb (it is very dumb) thing that will be here if I am. I have to go to sleep but I can't. I purposely didn't buy Easter candy all week. I cave, purchase M & M eggs, munch popcorn, watch Crazy Ex Girlfriend, fall asleep reading scary stories.

A Bad Poem from the Heart

I think of you when I pass the Game Stop
the one on Harlem next to the store with the picture of the Egg.
I think of you when I pass the Game Stop--
which used to be fairly often when I lived in Chicago,
and even when I lived in St. Louis,
because it's south of suburbia and on the way.
It was a sign of good things to come--
getting home. I didn't like it in that half-lived in house
(my room, freshly painted with the new carpet I had picked out,
gutted besides one creaky twin)
but getting out of a car is getting out a car,
and I always did like our driveway. No,
I liked the rusted lamppost with our last name stuck on.
Anyway, it was the homestretch when I passed your old work.
I know I visited you there once. Why? Why?
I can't remember.

Chicago. September 2012.

I haven't been on that forever road headed north in three years.
So instead I think of the Game Stop when I think of you.
I love you and I miss you,
and if there was a time to believe in heaven
it is now.

Day in the Life, June 2, 2012

Dear Grandchildren of the Future,

If you're reading this, consider me hog-tied! A. Because I can't imagine having kids! Let alone kids on kids! And B. Because if you've found this it means all the Internet's data wasn't destroyed in a huge terrorist attackor/and snafu.

Anyway, grandkids of the future, obviously you were looking for something in creeping through ol' Maw Maw's blog from her 20s. But, how can I give you advice or anything when you're probably teleporting or, the opposite, only ever sit perfectly still but communicate with others via an elaborate wifi in your retina?

I'll assume I'm dead by now--hopefully some kind of donut related death?--and you guys are just curious about what life was like for your cool ancestors! So let me tell you about my day. Just so you can get a feel for Grammy's life and times.

-Woke up and finished an opinion essay about tumblr & beauty for this journal I write for
-Made some acorn squash and ate it
-Read a nice article by Viola Hays
-Ran 6 miles
-Hassled my dad into cutting up a pineapple
-Showered and ate some of aforementioned pineapple with some peanuts (in 2012 it is a commonly held belief that you are supposed to consume protein after exercise--this always feels kind of heavy to me, so I am betting by the time you're reading this, that theory has been disproven...or, actually, you probably have been genetically modified to be naturally fit, so you don't even know what a work-out is let alone how to eat after one)
-Took my car for one final nostalgic cruise. My baby is sold, so I had a goodbye spin. I took her to Walgreens when I needed to buy some notebooks, and then I cruised about a mile in the June sun with the windows open. No music, just the hum of my 90s beaut. I started to think, "You know what? Driving can be nice." And that's when a bird flew right into the windshield. "I take it back," I thought.
-Wanting to have some adventure in my last joint production with Wanda (car name--Do you kids name inatimate objects? I assume so. Otherwise, wouldn't you feel weird referring to your robot maid as simply "Robot Maid"?), I passed a physic's office ("walk-ins welcome") and decided to get my palm read
-The psychic told me I have a long life ahead of me with no illness or accidents. Also that I don't open up to many people, I work hard for what I want, my "best" color is lavender, my best number is four, and I will get married and have a family. So, I guess that's good news for you guys, you yet-to-exist chillins'.
-Before I left the psychic told me I could ask one question--anything at all and it would be answered. I thought about it for longer than she was probably comfortable, especially since she was most likely thinking, "Don't burst a capillary thinking, kid, I'm a phony." I don't know a lot of things, but I honestly couldn't think of a question. So I asked something I knew the answer to already. It was still nice to hear someone reaffirm what I know. Even if you kiddos now drink seahorse blood out of juice boxes, I suppose I just came up with one piece of advice you can take with you--even in your space suit: There should probably be no question about your own life that you can't answer yourself.
-The joyride was over, and my dad and I went on a walk to grab a Redbox. I've wanted to see We Need to Talk about Kevin, and today was the day! I was very excited. We tried to stream the film last night on Apple TV, but the download would have taken two hours--this probably sounds hilarious to you. Buffering and loadtime for entertainment.
-We watched the movie, which is horribly brutal but very very well done. I enjoyed.
-Dinner time. We walked to a pizza place downtown. Your great-grandpa was a good dude.
-Once home, we built a small bonfire in the backyard and made s'mores, chatted about life in general, basked in the night sky, lit off some fireworks.

So, that's what life looks like when you're me. Keep on keepin' on, offspring!

Best,
Alice