I try not to talk about work too much, because long ago I chased away all the snarky wannabe screenwriters who were rude to the cancer caregiver readers, and well...everyone who's left now seems much more interested in what I'm feeling, processing, thinking on any given day than about the Hollywood grind. As it should be, frankly.
So where THE COMMUNE stands is I spent June trimming another five minutes out of it with genius editor Todd, and now the puppy sings arias. Then went to Winter at EMB Studios for the (hopefully) last go-round of sound editing/design, then back to Todd's to compile everything and devise our viral campaign strategies for Youtube, Myspace, and our website. If you want to watch my progress designing our website (FUN! Like chewing glass), you may do so here. Constructive suggestions are welcome, though suggesting I start over from scratch will be met with a firm "Eat me." You've been warned.
In the middle of all this, Brenda is helping me move my shit, er I mean cherished possessions, into storage. I'm in the process of donating or selling over half of everything I own, and am transferring some assets like my car over to her because there's a high likelihood when I go to Prague at the end of the month that I won't be coming back from Europe. You've been warned.
One of my dearest, oldest friends has an empty apartment in Prague and has offered to let me stay there. And another friend has been living there for awhile, and though he'll be gone I'm hoping he'll be a hero and introduce me into his circle of friend, because if they're anything like him I'll be in good hands.
I can't remember if I ever mentioned it here, but Prague has been my #1 destination plan since sophomore year of college, when I heard it was like Paris in the 20s, and had a premonition that I was going to meet my man there. Lest you think I'm under the spell of Oneitis again, my plan is not to marry a Czech for a greencard. I have some other friends who expanded their NYC business to London, and are now going to Paris, Venice, and Japan. So employment opportunities and housesitting jobs are likely. Plus, it sounds pretty simple to get a job under the table at a hostel. You know, killing American tourists.
I have to confess, I got a little nervous today thinking about the European men. Anita reminded me how my guyfriends were pulling them off of me in Spain. It was kind of strange because it was just me. The other American girls were plenty prettier and didn't have drunken buffoons trailing after them for miles or, um, EFFING BITING them. If it's like that anywhere else when I'm traveling alone...I don't know. I'm going to have to figure out the culture fast to discern why I was catnip to them (Too approachable and welcoming? Do I have to be a cold bitch who doesn't make eye contact? I need to bind my breasts and ass?) and how to say in their language "Sorry, I only sleep with a man I love who is committed to me."*
Or maybe I can just lie and say I'm Canadian; avoid the whole American girls gone wild stigma. Traveling alone is such a drag for a woman when you have to spend the whole time figuring out safety issues. That's why it's taken me so long to get to Prague in the first place. I didn't want to go alone.
But, well, I don't have my wonderful traveling partner to explore the world with and make love to every day and eat great food off of, so guess I have to go to Europe to meet him.
And you guys can stay here and worry about the election, gas prices, the recession, and the actors strike. Suckers!