Mystery Mr. E

Mr. E says I'm asleep at the wheel, and if there is anyone we want to keep happy out there, it is Mr. E.

Mr. E (a name that is fun for two reasons. 1^st that's the guy's name. His last name starts with E, right on, right? Second, I won't disclose his real name so it is shrouded in mys-tery. Nice huh?)

There is less money here in Scottsdale. Or, perhaps more accurately, people are less willing to part with their money here than they were in Hawaii. I think that the idea on Maui is more of the "we've allotted a certain amount of money we'd like to just blatantly spend while here on this island, and that includes you, you well-kept and humorous server of the restaurant we are so wildly enjoying. Here, take our money and spend it on groceries, spend it on yourself, on others! We don't care, we just want to spend it!!"

Here, in Scottsdale it is like this:

"Back off, you're getting 12% because I have to pay for my Beamer and dammit, I can't afford that if I give you the other three dollars you deserve. Now go away you modern-food-slave-you."

But I won't be arguing about money. I just took 70 days off and dropped a number of dollars between 7,998 and 8,001 (I prefer anonymity when it comes to finances). Sure I'd love to get some of those dollars back, but Steve Wynn isn't returning my calls, emails, faxes or couriers.

What else is going on these days? The hibernation of my creative writing/fiction career is finally over and since I don't have any money to do anything specific or glorious, I gather change for a cup of coffee and write my fingers numb at whatever local coffee shop doesn't have a per hour consumption policy for their loiterers. The writing, in a somewhat serious note, is going quite well. I've switched methods recently and will be pursuing only one project at a time instead of twelve-hundred. This makes it easier for me to concentrate on tiny and rather significant idiosyncrasies that make good characters worth reading. It also cuts down on the number of times I have to scribble "What was it I was trying to do with this passage?" in the marginalia.

My lovely girlfriend has a work shirt that doesn't fit her very well. It is a uniform and because of this she has very little leeway with its alteration. If only the mediums were a little less tentish, a little more flattering, I think the men with the Beamers would up her right to 16% which is huge for a lot of these thirty-thousand-dollar-millionaires we have wandering the clubs at night putting $15 Cosmopolitans on their credit cards and binging on macaroni and cheese during the week.

The piece I'm currently working on involves a lot of second person narration, which isn't common. It would be as follows:

You are enjoying this blog because you can relate to tentish clothing. You once bought a shirt at a thrift store for the charming Chester Cheeto hand-stitched emblem on it only to take it home, wash the hell out of it, and realize it was a 4XL. You are not 4XL, despite what the mirror and the scale says every morning. You enjoy the occasional doughnut, sure, but you also own a racing bike that you can really make sing on those long down-hill rides to the all-you-can-eat buffet.

Anyhow - second person narrative - the YOU driven narrative - isn't common or (really) very popular. Imagine my surprise when I was over-caffeinated and stuck in the middle of writing a section of this piece and decided to ask the checkout person at Borders books for help.

"I need second person narrative fiction. You know, like Bright Lights, Big City or something"

"I don't know about that one, I haven't read it."

(The conversation went on VERY SIMILARLY until I pulled the bookstore equivalent of 'Hey look over there' and ducked behind another shelf full of books. But back to the conversation already in progress)

"Yeah, I'm sorry," she says. "I haven't even heard of that one."

"Harry Potter, the last one, that's what I need."

"Oh, you should have said something."

"Great."

"Right this way."

I'm Angry at The Idiots

The full title should be: I'm Angry at the Idiots that Control the Idiot Box. . .

 

I'd like to talk for one moment about stupidity. It is a broad topic with many participants to be sure, but I'd like to narrow it down to the short-sighted and ridiculous people in charge at NBC. Why, you ask.

Because they've diffused Aaron Sorkin again. It makes me crazy. His most recent series - - which I'm finding that people didn't even KNOW about much less watch (likely because the network with which he was doing business didn't do so much as a single commercial spot for it after May). It has since been canceled, the remaining episodes aired, the beautifully deep and rich plotlines scrapped.

The series, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, starred family favorite Matthew Perry. No, he wasn't rattling one-liners as Chandler, he played it serious - dry at times - but using a strength and presence of character that Kaufman/Krane would have likely been too scared of had he exhibited it on Friends.

With Perry was emmy-award winning Bradley Whitford, of West Wing fame who was allowed to carry on in perfectly metered Aaron Sorkin dialogue, rich with reference and rhythm. And the rest of the ensemble cast - you can't do it better or with as many name players. Plus you've got Mark McKinney from Kids in the Hall involved with the writing and Timothy Busfield (you MUST remember him) directing as well as having a starring role.

What happened, you may ask? Are Sarah Paulson and Amanda Peet not sexy enough to hold the attention of the male viewing public? Nope, they're sexy enough. Was the show too dramatic? No, the show was far less dramatic than the West Wing. One cannot compare it to Friends because Friends was a one-liner's paradise, built for comedy and speed only. When the ninth and tenth seasons of Friends came through, there were far too many plot lines with deep and necessary emotion to carry the light and usual frivolity that the series had become known for.

Were people too busy trying to figure out how Chandler had gotten so serious? Was the viewing audience confused by real drama instead of the soap-opera-esque qualities of such blockbuster black holes like, I don't know, the AGE OF LOVE, where once again the depravity of America's popular sexual culture is front and center as women of all ages compete for the love of (ahem, or airtime with) some no name pretty boy all along hoping to not binge on DingDongs when they lose so their figures will be ripe for the all-nude Playboy shoot that is likely already scheduled to coincide with the series finale.

Anyone seen Sports Night? No? It won two emmys, someone had to have seen it. Now it's available on DVD and it carries with it the same kind of delicious, hedonistic, intelligent cult following that Arrested Development has - - another show that was just too smart for television.

Which makes me wonder something. If there are shows too intelligent for television, are there also shows too stupid for television? And who is in charge of what stays on? I bet it's the same people that have American Idol on speed dial and know all the names of all the contestants on Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire? Or My Big Fat Fianc é or whatever the hell that show was.

So when Studio 60 comes out on DVD, millions will watch it, and love it. And they'll see that the plight of Jordan's character (Amanda Peet) as Network President doesn't just exist at the fictitious NBS, it exists on all the networks. The series airs with a one-minute speech about the declining quality of network television by iconic actor Judd Hirsch, and over 22 episodes Jordan's goal is increase the amount of intelligent programming to a network and a nation that has gone quietly stupid. And then their intelligent show got cancelled too and replaced with a remake of BIONIC WOMAN. And that's on twice a week, by the way, in case you miss it the first time.

My Parka/Burka

And then today I went to work. It is the first time in a long time that I have had anything "work-like" to do, and having said that, I will also say that I didn't miss it that much. It isn't bad and I recommend that if anyone is really and truly run down with their job to just take 75 days off in a row - should cure you right up.

Everything dramatic is dying down. The quiet of a perfectly air-conditioned apartment is once again a thrill worth talking about - - the feeling of carpet on just-showered feet - - also the feeling that the numbers in the bank account will start doing something opposite to what they were getting used to - - all of these are happy additions to the peace-of-mind that a long and worthy adventure brings.

I must say that with the new (old) job comes once again the puzzling fact that the outdoor temperature is 117 degrees and the restaurant uniform is still black long-sleeves, pants, shoes, burka and parka. It's okay though because they still offer patio seating if a few desert camels show up and want to enjoy some asparagus & prosciuto bruschetta.

Forward: Splendiferous

And as a forward to Splendiferous, I'll also add these gems.

July 3^rd, 10:00 a.m.

Me: "It's too hot to driving or eating or doing anything but finding a pool and floating in it. Let's find a pool and float in it.

July 3^rd, 2 p.m., excerpt from interview at NoRTH

General Manager: "Yeah, we'd love to have you back but..."

Me: "You're worried that this wild vagabond style I've been talking about will leave you high and dry one day?"

GM: "Well yes."

M: "You're worried that I might not even be here in Arizona later today much less three weeks from now."

GM: "Well yes."

M: "Yea, I can see that." (Laughing quietly)

(A pause for several beats)

M: "Oh yeah, sorry. NO. We're here for a little while now."

GM: "Well..."

M: "Right, sorry again. We're signing six-month leases later today, so there's that."

GM: "Ahhhhh, okay. That's what I wanted to hear."

July 3^rd, 5:30 p.m., Apartment Lady Katie

"And if you sign up right now, we'll give you an iPod."

July 3^rd, 7:59 p.m.

Me: "The new place has a dish washer, right?"

Krissy: "Yes."

Me: "Oh thank the Good Lord."

Krissy: "I don't think he had anything to do with it."

Me: "We should thank Him anyway, he did other good things today."

Krissy: "That's a weird thing to say at eight o'clock."

Me: "No, it's weird anytime - especially about a dishwasher."

Krissy: "Okay."

 

July 3^rd, 9:35 p.m., Krissy

"I'm not going anywhere else in this car."

Splendiferous

Today is our Independence Day. It's mine too, and important. More on that later.

I'd also like to say in the voice of a spoiler person that having finally set up roots (on a mid-rare permanent basis) I will finally set to paper the moments of this trip that have slipped through the cracks. It may feel a little PulpFictiony, but that was a great movie and if you don't appreciate that reference you can pleasantly ask me for another. ( Memento is another award-winning movie example of an out-of-sequence narrative for all of you who are ready already.)

When I left you I was ready to go to Vegas - and to Vegas I went. My experiences there were similar to most of my previous Vegas experiences. I ate delicious food, gambled money I didn't have on games I don't really understand, didn't sleep as much as I would have liked and am still finding $1 chips in the pockets and soles of the shoes that I own. Apparently I'm one of those gamblers.

Part of this trip was spent at the new-to-me Steve Wynn Casino, which is gorgeous. I myself donated the money re-do most of the marble in the lobby, but I'm sure that Mr. Wynn has better things to spend his money on than that.

Mr. Wynn, if you're out there, I'd like to say a little something. How do you work so fast? In the time that your not-so-busy cocktail waitress brought me my drink you and the dealer (her name was Jeannine by the way and she had a Fred, and coughed on me, a trespass I think that is worth 10k in hotel stays and benefits) had taken all of my "fun money" away from me. And before the next drink arrived Jeannine and you, Mr. Wynn, had taken my "rainy day money" my "lunch money" and my "eating money." If Krissy hadn't flicked me in the ear several times, Mr. Wynn, I think you'd have gone for the jugular and taken my "gas money" my "get-it-all-back-in-three-crazy-roulette-bets-money" and my "quarters." If you have any big plans for all my different money, please let me know so that I can visit the new urinal cakes or ashtray brush that I so generously provided.

Anyhow - since the main reason for this trip was reconnaissance, I can accurately report that there are normal - very normal - parts of Las Vegas. There are many houses on the market that a person can rent for low prices, they exist in neighborhoods without spray paint or urine on the walls and only very few CostMart shopping carts in the lawns. There also exist opportunities for restaurant industry people like ourselves - so many in fact that listing them all here (using only the truly profitable ones as criteria) would still take half a page. Only recently did we realize that the owner of our previous company knows "everyone" there and could maybe help a couple employees to find places to live. We've also learned that getting a four bedroom house is as easy to rent as a three bedroom one which would mean that all our friends worldwide could find respite and hospitality in one of our many guest rooms fully furnished with tiny hotel soaps and tiny hotel shampoos stolen from one or many local casinos.

So we're not moving there anymore.

Not yet.

Yes, it sounds like just another in a long list of really annoying back-tracks that we've catalogued over twenty states and as many or more cities. . . but it's not. Not really. Instead the plan has shifted back to Arizona where the weather is warm and the people are (*mostly) sweet and genuine. If you've been following this blog at all, you'll know that today, July 4 ^th, marks our 65^th day of traveling, and our 68^th day of unemployment. For the non-financially independent (ahem) putting 70 days of wildness into your system can cost you three pretty pennies and a bit more. (Eat Shit Steve Wynn). Scottsdale is beautiful through the fall and early winter, and for this reason we'll hang around, land a naughty little apartment and resume working at NoRTH in Kierland Commons.

It's re-calibrating.

It's re-laxing.

It's re-splendent. (click that, they say splendiferous, which I think we can all agree should be added to normal everyday conversations. Try using it today. Splendiferous. If you're in Maui and reading this, use it at work in reference to morale.)

That does it for today - we're current - we're here in Scottsdale and moving to an apartment on Saturday. The trip is over. The trip is all finished, but the stories from the trip are just getting warmed up. (That's a reference to an Al Pacino movie. Also award-winning. Spend more time at www.IMDB.com if you don't believe me.)