Archive for May, 2007

I Want a Bacon Sandwich!

May 31, 2007

Please overnight bacon sandwiches immediately. Have them sent from restaurants that can do that freeze-dried shit for shipping. Crispy bacon, no mayo, (will provide own) and Romaine lettuce preferred. Send to my attention via Veusvio Cafe, 255 Columbus Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94133
UPDATE: A mean, ass-whooping hot German potato salad craving just kicked in as [...]

Peking Duck, Anyone?

May 27, 2007

I, ummmm, well, I mean, c’mon, this story is just so damn weird:
(KUTV) LOS ANGELES – Authorities are investigating a disturbing case of animal cruelty in southern California, where a duck turned up with a knife sticking out of its back.
The wounded duck was found on Friday by people at Huntongton Beach, near Los Angeles. [...]

Another Pledge Drive, Lorenzo Lamas, And More

May 22, 2007

So this afternoon I finished the first draft of a screenplay for a proposed Lorenzo Lamas low-budget movie – not quite a direct-to-DVD effort if they shoot the script I turned in. More of an art film. With Lorenzo Lamas. Now I’m just waiting to get paid. Not a lot of money, though. It’s low-budget. [...]

Easy Money

May 13, 2007

Between drinks, having a smoke in Jack Kerouac Alley. I’ve been sitting at the bar all afternoon, making notes on a low-budget screenplay that I’m required to begin writing tomorrow — well, when I say “required” I mean that I took a half-way decent advance eight months ago and haven’t delivered yet and now they [...]

Knowledge of the Ground

May 11, 2007

I’m working my way through my second White Russian at the bar in Vesuvio. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon and it’s as cold as a witch’s tit out there. Only five days ago San Francisco scored a record May temperature of eighty-eight degrees and locals were bitching like it was a harbinger of glacial [...]

Against the Grain

May 7, 2007

“It’s definitely gluten intolerance,” I said.
“I told you so. How did you figure it out?” His comment was punctuated by the harsh blare of car horns and a muttered ‘Get the fuck out of my way, bitch.’ Cal was mired in traffic somewhere on the 405 in L.A. I was, as usual, standing in Jack [...]