I've been thinking of starting a record club out of my apartment for months now. Record nights are the best. Or just, physical media nights in general. Ahhh remembering when Hubski would have turntable.fm sessions. Those were fun.
the dream that wasn't When I first started pointing towards moving to LA I thought I was going to go to the Peter Stark Producer's Program at USC. Which would have worked out okay - $180k in debt notwithstanding - because my buddy had an apartment at 29th and Western, deep in the 'hood (a shallower 'hood than my current 'hood but there are still boards up from the LA Riots of '91), part of a weird, sprawling complex owned by one of his buddies who sometimes showed up on Lost. The unit I was going to occupy had no windows, but it was huge. Probably 30 feet by 100 feet. One giant open hole, brick walls, total darkness. That was gonna be my movie club. I had the projector. I had the speakers. I had the processor. It was going to be a big, righteous hang-out place for all my new student buddies, something with a big screen and a popcorn machine and a soda machine full of beer sold at cost. And I was going to screen a movie or two a week and invite anyone and everyone and that would be my new social group, all the young movers and shakers of hollywood, all our bright futures combined together, and it was going to be awesome. And then I didn't get into the Stark, and then the apartment went to a friend of the actor, and then I ended up hanging out with the people who would have hired those fresh'n'shiny new Stark graduates and I saved $180k. I lived in a shithole in North Hollywood but drive-bys and gang wars notwithstanding it was an objectively better neighborhood. But I still want that room. And I still want to do movies. All I need is an excuse. The birth center has a 55" screen and a 5.1 system. It'll only seat a dozen or so but I have every intention of organizing "new parents" evenings of sports or movies or whatever with little young'uns crashed out in the offices. Of course, that'll be for them, not for me.
It's hard to pinpoint what feelings that's bringing up. Has it been disappointing to you that that room hasn't been realized yet? Or won't in the way you originally envisioned? Going back to steve's 3 Questions about not being afraid to do something, or really just the things that stop somebody from doing something, why not start that room and club out of the shithole in North Hollywood? This is turning into me interviewing you for #thehumancondition so, sorry about that.
... There's a part of me that mourns the future that died. I mean, "run off and go to film school" was a plan that would have allowed me to have the college experience I wanted - one with subjects that weren't boring, with classes full of people who spoke English, with subjects that might have even had a girl or two. And it was a pedigree into a new industry that would have allowed me to pursue artistic and rewarding projects from the top down - I mean, you can't beat that degree in Hollywood, or so I thought. My first week working in Hollywood I found out that the PA who made the coffee had a Master's from the Stark and he's long since gone so in the end, I dodged a mutherfucker of a bullet. But I never made those friends. And I never had those evenings. And here's the thing - a college student among college students is one thing. I mean I would have been outgunned outclassed and outmanned by the whole of the student body of USC because nobody poor goes there. Period. But my peers without the "school" connection? They own horses. They collect motorcycles. I ended up meeting the folx that have been succeeding in Hollywood for 20 years, not the guys just getting started last week, and they sure as fuck aren't going to suffer through some shitty movie night in some shitty apartment in fuckin' North Hollywood. My peeps have pools, son. But they're my peeps. They came to my housewarming. We ride motorcycles. We eat steaks. And they're all in LA. Most everyone I knew in Seattle moved away while I was gone. My peer group is much diminished. And gentle reminder - Seattle is the city where our fuckin' hubski meetup fell through. It's one thing to join a group. It's a whole 'nuther thing to found one. And I can dream and I can plan but no matter how much of a social maestro I pretend to be, I'm also handicapped by the fact that I'm not even going to fucking be there for half the year. Sometimes "aloof" is more than a state of mind. It's a logistical necessity.