Paradise Wasteland
"Los Angeles is a paradise wasteland."
— me
The least photogenic city, yet it is the most photographed. A city that is full of both hope and hunger. Gorgeous palms frame boulevards full of ghetto mini-marts and hollowed buildings from a decade long dead. Pretentious pretty people hardly mix with the indie-inclined artsies, but there is a shade of gray one may discover on a late night down in Silverlake, where martinis and Miller Lights stand side by side on the same bar and Gucci and Target color coordinate in a non-discriminatory display of fashion.
When you’re up, you can’t help but think of the possibilities and good fortune that may come your way.
When you’re down, you question your potential and feel suffocated by all the limits you face.
We’re a bunch or artists in a ridiculously spread-out metropolis, dying day by day to express what we want people to experience. Truman Capote was brilliant when he said an artist dies a little every time he creates a new piece of work. There’s always the question, "What’s next?" that follows the completion of a great product. And the artist must muster up the stamina to create more, entetaining a constantly hungry audience, putting all he can into his project, leaving a part of his life behind to shrivel up and perish. He gives and gives, and that is energy questionably well-spent…
I sit here in the cool comforts of San Sebastian, the gorgeous palazzo owned by my boss, the wonderful Mr. Jack Kenny. I sit in this office, several feet away from the door that separates me and the outdoor cabana, where all nine writers (and co-producers) brainstorm and blog their way through the twelve episodes they need to create. The pool glistens in the sun. The heat is insane. Empty paper cups from rival coffeehouses litter the large table. If I lean back in my chair and look out the bay windows I can be greeted by the hazed-out skyline of downtown L.A.
These guys sitting outside with my boss are marinating in "What’s next?" Each one of them is excited at the prospect of enjoying a long, successful run on this NBC drama. We all believe in it. I can honestly say I would watch this show. Naturally, there will be comparisons ("It’s the next ‘Six Feet Under’ or ‘Desperate Housewives’…"), but it is truly an original vision, a twisted take on the family drama. It’s safe to say: "Joan of Arcadia" or "7th Heaven" this ain’t.
Last Friday the studio threw a "greenlight meeting" for us. In truth, it was more like a welcome reception, a chance for the studio execs to meet and greet us between sips of champagne and bites of chocolate-covered strawberries. The gals over in publicity were all smiles, excited for the show. They learned my name quickly, knowing that we were going to be developing a phone rapport in the months to come. Could there have been some sucking-up as well, being that I am the assistant to the creator of a potentially big hit? Nah. Who am I to let that get to my head?
Monday was an NBC press conference held at the Beverly Hilton. Jack encouraged the writers to come and listen to him and the cast answer questions on the panel in one of the ballrooms. Critics were spitting out everything they could, and Jack reciprocated with some great replies. A pleasant surprise was hearing Ellen Burstyn talk about her character’s relationship with Aidan Quinn’s (she plays Bishop Beatrice Congreve). The dame is intelligent, very well-spoken. I later had the awesome chance to be introduced to her. Alas, Aidan Quinn and his TV wife, Susannah Thompson (from "Once & Again"…remember her?), quickly disappeared, probably at the request of their respectively pushy managers.
Today is the last day we will all work from Jack’s home in the Los Feliz hills. Tomorrow we finally move into our office space over on La Brea. I let out a "Whew!" when I learned that we weren’t going to be on the Universal lot; that commute would have been a bitch. I look forward to working in a more stable atmosphere, having my own desk (and office), getting ecstatic over the idea of fresh office supplies (c’mon, who doesn’t love fresh stationary?).
The caffeine is now wearing off. I must avoid the box of bagels and pastries in the kitchen. I have learned my lesson from working on other production jobs: BAGELS + SWEETS = DOOM. Plus, I now have that gym membership that can curb my cravings. Jack is all about health food anyway. Our kitchen in the offices will not tolerate chocolate or any other hazardous edibles. The writers agree. We refuse to plump up to the point where we won’t able to fit two people in the elevator. Death to calories!
Thus, my life right now. Not quite "down," I must say. It can only get busier from this point on.
Did I mention the view is beautiful from here as well?
Love to all,
Hiko
