steve in hollywood

Hollywood is full of catch 22’s, if I haven’t said this already. The trick for a new actor moving here is somehow to have a job that pays the bills, and yet still have time open for auditions and roles. This is difficult because there are, literally, millions of actors here. If there is just one thing that makes the role more difficult for the producers, they can find someone else who does not have that one thing — they certainly will not reschedule for you when you are a new actor, an unknown, a nobody.

Filming goes on here 24/7, so no matter when you work your real job, it will conflict with something you want to do. I’ve been doing odd jobs, losing various jobs (not my fault, I promise!) and generally struggling like a maniac to make ends meet. Well, this past week it almost all fell apart.

Pulling the weeds out

I think that Hollywood kind of works like college calculus — it is simply there to weed out people who can’t hack it. The weeding process here like this — can you somehow work, pay extravagant rent, eat, keep your car working, go to auditions, improve your craft with classes, get an agent, get into SAG, and build your resume all at the same time? No wonder people give up all the time, it’s a daunting task.

Last week I found myself facing a near eviction, phone being turned off, my car insurance expired, ramen and beans to eat, and an empty gas tank. I had been writing a screenplay for someone that I expected to be finished weeks ago — and now it was done and I needed to deliver it to the client about 60 miles away. Except that I had no money to print out the script, and maybe enough gas to get down there, but not get back. I was paid in cash last time so I figured he might do cash again and I could get some gas to go back home. Otherwise, I guess I’d be stranded in Costa Mesa.

Why didn’t I borrow some money? ‘Cause I already had! The people I usually ask didn’t have any for me or had just lent me some. That was just the way it was. So, I figured I’d drive down and see what fate had for me. I’m actually not going to tell you what I did to make it ’cause it wasn’t pretty — but I did get down there and get paid.

I found myself missing North Carolina, my steady job, place to live, normal work hours, getting enough sleep, much less stress… but I’m sort of trapped here being broke. I couldn’t get back if I wanted to.

These are signs you see all around L.A. They are all the same, yellow, with an arrow, text written both ways. It means this way to the set of this movie. Sometimes the title is a false name they are using for the movie that only cast and crew knows so people don’t try to crash the next Brad Pitt set.  I wanted to show you one since they are a part of the Hollywoo d experience.

Anyway, well, I’m here for now. I’m still out of half of stuff I need (thanks Donald for the toothpaste and deodorant!) and low on everything, but if I keep going now I should be at least livable in a few months. I may have to take a break from auditions — hell who am I kidding, I haven’t been out to auditions for months because I’ve been desperately looking for paid work. Anyway I’m going to scrape by for now, and try not to let this happen again. I don’t think I could make it if it did — I’d just have to join the pile of weeds.

I really don’t know how this happened. It has been kind of a gradual stalking of my life, where writing has been loping along silently next to me behind the trees, or hidden in a dark alley as I walked by. I knew it was there, but I didn’t realize it was going to pounce.

The Good Old Days

Back before there was this thing called “The Internet”, I would use my computer, connected to a phone line to dial up another computer and talk. This computer hosted a BBS, or Bulletin Board System. You logged on with your cool computer alias, (I’ve had many, starting with “The Weasel” at about 15, then going to “Lone Knight”, “Max Sterling”, “Stephanos”, and recently “Steve Racer.” ) I was addicted to these things; feeling obligated to respond to every single topic (even if it had nothing to do with me or I had nothing constructive to add) and soon became the #1 poster on many of these boards.

Back then the really annoying speak, AOL or Myspace talk, or however you call it, was not as prevalent. We did not compose messages like “r u at hom? wat u doin?” There were a few bad spellers, sure, but we made the attempt. Regardless, I didn’t realize it, but I was writing a lot of words.

College comes along

Then there was college. I loved college because I could schedule my classes when I wanted, which mean after 11 am because I am a night owl. The transition was wonderful from not sleeping enough to sleeping in. Regardless, in college you are required to write. We had something like two or even three required writing courses! Oh, the humanity!

Anyway, so I wrote stuff for my classes, and learned MLA style notation, which apparently you only use in college. I also discovered the Internet (hey, I’m like Columbus!) George Mason University gave us a web page on the college server – so I eventually whipped up the ugliest mess of graphics and text you could imagine. However, this being 1994, it fit right in. I put a few things on my web site, started telling stories.

Working man

“They call me the working man, I guess that’s what I am.” – Rush

Not long after I graduated I decided working a real job sucked so I became a teacher.  

And then, the rest of my blog disappeared

I dunno what happened but the document I sent myself only had half of this blog. So, here’s the rest:

Then I moved to LA and I met people who found out I could write and asked me to write scripts and even paid me so I guess now I’m a real writer. The end.

So, I’m driving along in my car and I hear this song on the radio. It sounds okay, kind of different. Then it gets to the chorus:

Are we human, or are we dancer?

My response was, “What kind of lame crap is this?” So I changed the station. I heard some interesting beat. Then it came to the chorus.

Are we human, or are we dancer?

What the hell? Is every station playing this lame song? The song I’m referring to is apparently “Human” by The Killers. I found this on Wiki:

There has been considerable confusion and debate over a lyric in the chorus of the song. This is regarding whether or not Brandon Flowers is saying “denser” or “dancer”, when posing the question “Are we human or are we denser/dancer?” The pronunciation of the word has led several critics to believe that Flowers is in fact saying dancer, and therefore questioning what the meaning of the lyric is. Entertainment Weekly‘s Pop Watch section, called the lyrics the “silliest lyrics of the week” under the assumption that Flowers was saying “dancer” in the chorus. They were puzzled by this, stating “most dancers are generally human.”^[3]

On the band’s official website, the biography section states that Flowers is singing “Are we human, or are we dancer?” and also says that Flowers said the lyrics were inspired by a disparaging comment made by Hunter S. Thompson about how America was raising a generation of dancers.

That’s nice, but “are we dancer” doesn’t even make grammatical sense! Plus it’s just lame and sounds pansy. And the guy’s name is Flowers. They should be called The Silly Wacky Lame Pansy Killers, except then you might think that they serial murder daisies.

Other Random Thoughts

• I bit the hell out of my tongue and have trouble talking
• I did actually post an Appearances page for you all, see it?
• If I was an Armenian, I’d be fat. My neighbors’ houses always have the most delicious aromas coming from them around dinnertime. I would so pig out on that.
• I’m really tired of going to the gym and dieting. It’s been like 7 months straight. I’ve lost 7 pounds from all that work, by the way.
• A street musician was playing “Jingle Bells” in downtown Glendale, and it was only freakin’ September. I wanted to beat him to death with his saxophone.
• I got a job teaching at a local community college. This is relevant because…
• I got an eviction notice after my rent was, I kid you not, nine days late. Apparently they are very serious about rent ‘round these parts. I called them, I think it will be okay.
• The show Johnny Test on Cartoon Network is pretty funny, for a kid’s show.

Ow.

When you start out, you don’t have an agent, you don’t have a manager. You have to promote yourself, get yourself jobs, get an internet presence, take classes… everything on your own. So, every time I get a new little bit of anything, a show, a movie, something I wrote — I have to promote it myself. I realize I’m starting to look like a bit of a whore.

With the help of Dictionary.com, I found this:
whore        (hôr, hōr)  Pronunciation Key
n.
1. A prostitute.
2. A person considered sexually promiscuous.
3. A person considered as having compromised principles for personal gain.

And door number 3 is a winner. Okay, maybe I’m not so much compromising principles but advertising myself to my friends and internet neighbors to the point of annoyance. But what else can I do? Take out an ad in the Post?

So, I started a new web comic

I’m afraid I must whore it out to you all. Wait, that’s it. I’m a pimp, not a whore! Regardless, here it is:

Here’s the story behind where it came from: One day Steve wrote a TV script pilot for a sci-fi/comedy. His friend Laura said, “That’s nice but no one will make an expensive sci-fi show from an unknown writer. You should make it into an animation or a comic.” So, he called up this cool guy Dave. Steve met Dave when he saw Iron Man; he was sketching in the parking lot (Dave, not Iron Man.) Dave thought the idea was cool, and so it began.

Click the banner to go to see the comic, we are on page 4 so far.

More pimpin’

I’m going to be on television this month, and appearing in two movies, one on TV and one in theaters this November. I’m going to create a new section for my “appearances” though after this little spate I’m worried it might look empty and sad after a while. We shall see. The movies I shot almost a year ago and the TV was about 4 months ago, so it takes time for stuff to come out. Look for the new section today!

Today on “how to” we will learn a way to establish with certainty the non-return of your apartment’s security deposit. This really isn’t such a big problem, however, because most landlords will find a way to charge you for every single penny of it even if you leave the house in pristine condition. You’ll get a report like this:

ACME Building Management

Trash removal (piece of lint) : $360

Carpet cleaning (which you already did anyway): $230

Air filter replacement: $9,380

So, you might as well just destroy your apartment with reckless abandon and leave raw mackerel inside the heating unit. Anyway, on to the lesson.

Destroying your kitchen

On the last “how to” blog, we learned How to Burn Down Your Friend’s Apartment, which also started in the kitchen.  Now you can’t just go around arbitrarily destroying your kitchen, you need an excuse like, “Aliens are filtering my water,” or “I invited Andy Dick over for dinner,” but one of the best is “there’s a dead rat somewhere behind all these appliances and wood and it smells really awful.” That’s the one I used this time.

This rat was one of the most unobliging rats I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. It repeatedly refused to step into the snap traps, it stuck its nose up at the bait in the electrick shock trap, and it not only avoided but managed to escape from one of the glue traps. In the meantime it was happily tearing holes in the carpet (so it could get around more easily) and leaving debris of my stuff it chewed all over the floor.

This rat had some balls. It would run around the apartment in front of us daring us to catch it. Look, I tried to chase it out the door (you should have seen me and my roommate with the broom and mop) and I tried to trap it, but it wasn’t playing along. So, it was time to give it… the poison.

The initial effect of the poison was that the rat poop that normally appeared around the place was now flourescent green. I figured maybe we had some kind of nuclear genetic mutant rat immune to poison and able to plot the overthrow of Western civilization. I was wrong. The rat made an appearance on its last legs in the kitchen one night. Myself and my roommate again tried to catch the creature in a cardboard box, with a dustpan, and a trashcan… not only did it escape in its weakened condition but it leapt at me viciously! Well, I was in my socks and was having none of the potential icky rat disease that it might carry, so I deftly dodged and it crawled behind the dishwasher… to die.

The first day, only I could smell it, having been gifted by God of the most keen sense of smell imaginable. (Think of that guy you met at the party with the bad breath. Now imagine how he smells to me. ) So I know right away the rat has passed on. But where? And now we get to destroying the kitchen.

First, I pulled out the dishwasher and disconnected its power (raw copper lines!) Make sure you flip that circuit breaker before you do this, kids.

Second, I smashed around in the plaster behind the dishwasher hoping it was in the wall there. It smelled pretty badly there (oh, did it!) No luck. It was then I spied a small hole going to Under the Sink Land.

Under The Sink Land

I found a web site (while searching for “dead rat”) that had some helpful advice:

I sniff like a blood hound until I find the right spot, then get it perfect with my very first cut into the wall. Small animal, but BIG smell! To get rid of a dead rat or mouse in the wall, you’ve got to have a real nose for the job, literally (there is no magic odor finding machine)

Oh, how I wish there was such a magic machine. Regardless, the web site also has a cool graphic:

I realized the ex-rat (it’s bleeding demised!) was underneath my sink, and that my puny human powered tools would not do the job. So I used a lifeline: Phone a Friend With Power Tools. Gene was happy to come over to help destroy someone else’s property with me, and we got a nice hole in the wood. Then he got a mirror and a flashlight and it went something like this:

Steve: Do you see it?

Gene: There’s a dishrag here. There might be something behind it.

Steve: What about the other side.

Gene: Hmm. Let’s see. Okay. A dead rat.

Gene is a good friend, but I still was the one who had to fish out the dead rat.

So lately I’ve been working on a super secret script that is so classified that not only am I not allowed to discuss it, but it’s very likely shady men in suits will be showing up at my door.

This is of course, barring Dennis Rodman interrupting me again.

I am writing a lot because the client wants this script yesterday — the cool thing is it really will be a big budget film, millions of dollars, and he’s already got investors who are just dying to see this script.

I’m also working on creating the package for one of my original screenplays, because we found a producer for it! He has put up half the money, and we are looking for the other half. We are close to getting Kelly Hu and some other name actors for the film. Yes, really. Did I mention I would star in it along with my friend Jason Miller, the lead singer of Godhead?

Of course, all of this could totally go down in flames, because, after all this is Hollywood.

By the way, I should totally let you know Godhead’s new album is coming out next week! I’ve listened to a few tracks in Jason’s car as we drive to these meetings for the film production, and they rock.  Here’s a tiny image I found of the album cover which I will link to their site:

I told Jason it looks like the old Kansas album cover, but that was from so long ago only old people like me remember.

Maybe these pictures symbolize just what is about to happen to the stock market? Hmm.