so much for the nexus of humor and dreams of witty exchanges with winfrey and letterman.
(see preceding post)
okay so the lunch was decadent, the open window view upon cornelia street soothing, the indian fall day sparkling, the anticipation giddy, and all the red cones with not a film crew vehicle within a mile of the joint giddy killing.
five hundred copies of my script and the only person who wanted one was a guy dressed like davy crockett pushing a three wheeled shopping cart filled with recyclables and a three quarter emptied bottle of gin bouncing about on top.
i gave it to him for three dollars.
which he immediately rolled up and slipped down the barrel of his winchester—the three dollars that is.
as for the script, he ripped off the first page, folded it up real carefully, slid it into his shoe, placed the shoe back on, threw the remainder of the script into a trash can and walked away whistling that "king of the wild frontier" ditty of his.
so it's back to the drawing board as soon as i have a little chat with my brother about his sources.
all in all though, it was a great day, even though my vision of sugar plums were smashed like grapes..
my son and i caught up on world cup football, ranger hockey and our favorite curb your enthusiasm moments—you know, stuff that can be so much more important than the allure of fickle fame and fortune.