“Listen to yourself, Norman. Listen to how jaded you’ve become.”
“I’m not jaded!” Norman insisted. He was speaking from his car phone somewhere in the Santa Clarita Valley.
“You’re trying to tell me that a 27-year old porn star is old enough to play a middle aged woman, someone’s aunt no less.”
“She is older,” Norman persisted. “Twenty-seven is old in this business now.”
“I’m not writing the role of Aunt Jesse for a twenty-seven year old, Norman. You’ve lost your mind.”
“Trace, just keep repeating to yourself: it’s only a porno, it’s only a porno, it’s only a porno. Now go smoke a bowl and write something, goddamnit.”
******
“How are you doing?” Amy asked hesitantly. It was a question one always asked Trace with the slightest hesitation because it was bound to bring on a litany of complaints. She was calling from her cell phone as she drove through Brentwood.
“I’m actually doing okay,” Trace replied. “I mean, I hate the shit I’m writing but I’m preaching to the choir. I know you’d much rather be working on your book than teaching or ghost writing a tell-all memoir.”
“Yes.”
“All in all, I guess I’d have to say that I’m pretty lucky, huh? At least I’m still writing for a living.”
“Exactly.”
“Now all I have to do is convince myself of that.”
So long as you’re making enough to keep you in medication, food and drink, consider yourself lucky. You could be in training to write auto repair estimates.
Ouch.
Fuckin-A Ouch is right
hmmmmm auto repair huh!!! maybe we could shoot a scene or two in a garage..eh and you could practice rightin estimates eh trace ol’ buddy…..
Do you never stop harrassing me, Norman?
huh?? double negative..so i like to stalk the trace…it is exciting…