But looks like I'm making a trip to LA, next week. I bought my plane ticket, have a hotel set up in Santa Monica and reserved a car, so it looks real. But after my Paris debacle, I ain't takin' nothin' for granted, anymore. I can just see Mt. St. Helens blowing up, again. So until I'm there, I ain't believin' it.
This is just a quickie packing job, and I'm dropping down to get a look at another possible packing job in Huntington Beach for June or July. Problem is, I can't afford stay long because we're also gearing up for the Olympia Book Fair in London...the one I'm not going to. (Sulk, scowl, snap, snarl, yap, yurr.) We're pushing to get the company website up to the point where it can help our clients and that's going to take some pushing on my end since our IT guy is pretty busy. But I'll be able to visit with friends in the evenings -- people I haven't seen in too long.
I'm not thrilled with what's coming out on BC3, so far. It's surface nonsense meant solely to get me from point A to point Z, which means it'll take a lot of work to get right. And I can't blame that on Allen, right now -- simply because he's still playing coy, the bitch. It's Eric wanting some big moments...like a typical actor. Pavel has joined in this menagerie and just smiles, bemused. Maybe this is like the beginning of a party, where everyone's still testing the space between them and wondering how far they can go before making a fool or an obnoxious ass of themselves. Maybe I'll crank up the volume. Eric likes Depeche Mode. "Precious" off "Playing the Angel" fits him perfectly. Dammit, I wish I'd brought my CDs with me.