Bridesmaid Revisited
I'd be remiss if I didn't thank everyone for their well wishes on the PIMP tour. All the words of encouragement were very much appreciated. I'll avoid a lengthy recap, since I was only gone for a grand total of about 30 hours. The highlights for me:
- Driving from LAX in the Super Shuttle past working oil fields as I'm reading "The End of Oil," and noticing that one in four pumps aren't operating.
- Passing the actual Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences building on La Cienega.
- Five minutes later, passing Flynt Publications.
- Meeting fellow PIMP Mark Grisar from Westchester, NY, whose screenplay "Bad Rap" has a memorable logline that goes something like this: "A gangsta rapper decides to go 'easy listening' and become a better father to his four kids... and their mothers."
- The salmon burger with avocado at whatever place it was where we went to dinner.
- The fact that I was thousands of miles from Minneapolis, but still within walking distance of Macy's, Marshalls and Fogo de Chao.
- Walking into the L.A. Improv and seeing photos of people like Martin Short and... I don't know, lots of famous comedians.
- The absolutely jaded atmosphere as the M.C. read the finalists' loglines between the five-minute comedic performances.
- The best three words from any logline: "An alcoholic superhero..."
- The performance of Eddie Pepitone, who basically screamed an improvised set, and still put on the best show.
- Hearing the words "you came in fifth" after watching the four winners receive their trophies and checks.
- Remembering that I am, indeed, Bellamy Grant.
- The overall feeling that it's nice to be a wannabe screenwriter in St. Paul, Minnesota, as long as you're in Minnesota. But that when you actually go to a place where your waiter has optioned more scripts than you have, you realize that you're really not that clever, you're really not that original, and while you may not be the scum on the bottom of the barrel, you are what the scum on the bottom of the barrel makes fun of in its five-minute set at the Improv.
- Bellamy
- Driving from LAX in the Super Shuttle past working oil fields as I'm reading "The End of Oil," and noticing that one in four pumps aren't operating.
- Passing the actual Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences building on La Cienega.
- Five minutes later, passing Flynt Publications.
- Meeting fellow PIMP Mark Grisar from Westchester, NY, whose screenplay "Bad Rap" has a memorable logline that goes something like this: "A gangsta rapper decides to go 'easy listening' and become a better father to his four kids... and their mothers."
- The salmon burger with avocado at whatever place it was where we went to dinner.
- The fact that I was thousands of miles from Minneapolis, but still within walking distance of Macy's, Marshalls and Fogo de Chao.
- Walking into the L.A. Improv and seeing photos of people like Martin Short and... I don't know, lots of famous comedians.
- The absolutely jaded atmosphere as the M.C. read the finalists' loglines between the five-minute comedic performances.
- The best three words from any logline: "An alcoholic superhero..."
- The performance of Eddie Pepitone, who basically screamed an improvised set, and still put on the best show.- Hearing the words "you came in fifth" after watching the four winners receive their trophies and checks.
- Remembering that I am, indeed, Bellamy Grant.
- The overall feeling that it's nice to be a wannabe screenwriter in St. Paul, Minnesota, as long as you're in Minnesota. But that when you actually go to a place where your waiter has optioned more scripts than you have, you realize that you're really not that clever, you're really not that original, and while you may not be the scum on the bottom of the barrel, you are what the scum on the bottom of the barrel makes fun of in its five-minute set at the Improv.
- Bellamy
Comments
Love it!
And at least you're writing while living in a place you love instead of waiting tables or even making doughnuts whilst raising your kid in the shadow of an Angelyne billboard.
Sorry, but I hate LA. There...I said it.