R.I.P. Harvey Korman

More sad news from Hollywood.

Years ago, the Carol Burnett Show was one of my favorites. It still is. It had some of the best skit writing -- ever!

I am lucky to live in Los Angeles. I was even luckier to have had the chance -- chances, actually -- to attend live tapings of the show. I can't begin to tell you how wonderful the entire cast was. They were warm and welcoming to us, the audience.

Harvey Korman, Carol Burnett, Tim Comway, and Lyle Wagoner were generous with their time, answering questions from the audience, I'm sure they'd heard a thousand times before.

Harvey Korman had a long and illustrious career in Hollywood doing television and films. He was a hugely gifted mimic and comedian with a heart of pure gold.

Enjoy!

R.I.P. Sydney Pollack

I never met the man, and yet he profoundly affected my life. He made me laugh. He made me cry. He made me think.

He made me want to be a screenwriter.

Little Deaths

I dream big. Maybe too big.

That's why each time someone I know succeeds where I've failed, I die a little more. I'm afraid one day there will be nothing left of me. I'll simply have dried up and blown away.


It's a bitch being me.

Was Plato was right?

So, I'm watching yet another biopic. This one's about the brilliant french sculptor Camille Claudel, who was the lover of Auguste Rodin.

Like so many other artists, she was nuts. She didn't start out that way, but she sure as hell ended up in a mental institution for 30 years.

Does creativity = insanity?

Van Gogh sliced off an ear as a gift. Salvidore Dali was a major nutjob. Paul Klee...Max Ernst...Jean Dubuffet...Georg Baselitz. All legally insane.

And that list doesn't even include composers, writers, or musicians!

I'm a screenwriter, and I'm the first to admit I've had a "problem" with depression my entire life, but does that entitle me to call myself creative?

Since most artists aren't recognized during their own lifetimes, would I have to off myself in order to gain recognition?

I hope not. What a bummer that would be.

Sign of the Times

L.E.D. Billboards. If you haven't seen one yet, you will soon. They are everywhere.

Gone are the old billboards plastered with paper advertisements that are changed once every two to three months. Now, you get new advertisements every ten seconds.

Every. TEN. SECONDS!

As if there weren't enough distractions on the road. Now we not only have to watch out for those idiot driver's on their cellphones, and the ones applying make-up while behind the wheel, we have to avoid colliding with slack-jawed mouth-breathers, mesmerized by the ever-changing pretty pictures sitting a good thirty feet-or-so above freaking eye-level. Do you see a problem with this, like I do?

And it's not like I can simply hail a cab, or take the subway. Here in L.A., we don't have a subway. And as for cabs? Good luck. The only time I ever see one is when I'm at the airport. And don't get me started about being at the airport!

I love living in L.A. I really do, but let's face it, this city was not built for getting around. And certainly not at $3.85/gallon.

Thank God I have the Internet. With it, I can order items, and have them delivered right to my doorstep within a matter of hours or days (depending on how far it must travel). Flowers, food, alcohol, chocolates, books...aw, hell, anything my little heart desires is just a click away.

Now, if we can just do something about those slack-jawed mouth-breathers.