J.R., one of the local characters, presented me with three pages secured with a huge paperclip tonight and said “read this, it’s one page of a screenplay. read one page as a GIFT”. I took it and read it while he wandered back into the D’s parking lot. It was an odd, disconnected one-pager with a protective cover sheet. I don’t know a thing about screenplay treatments but it didn’t make any narrative sense to me.
He came back later and I asked if he’d finished the screenplay itself. “No, I need to get together with some really creative people! This is just the treatment!”
Later on, some young girls in field hockey uniforms wandered through, and our resident transsexual witch was giving teenagers tutorials on vampirism. After a few hours of this, and some badinage with the gang, I wandered off to the drugstore where I got some medicine and some dried fruit. I ate a few prunes in my car in the parking lot and stared up at the haze through my moonroof.
At Café Ruba later, it was the usual Satyricon as nickjb properly describes it. Every creepy person from every party you’ve ever been to on one patio. Their wireless network doesn’t work yet, but A.J. is “working on it”, which is a topic in itself.
I just want one kiss. Really.