please be kind

Dear Wednesday:


Please be kind.  Yesterday I found out that the venue for my new event, Starburst Jams #1, started with the possibility of being a new monthly night in L.A., with partner Christina Soufo, to be held at the beloved Dakota Lounge (formerly the extremely beloved Temple Bar) burned down to the stage.  Quite literally - the only things left are the stage and the sound board.  (Hmmm...I suppose we could still maybe do the event with a stage and sound board???)  An electrical fire claimed the building at 4:30a.m., closing down a venue that saw the rise of most of my favorite music acts and many many friends - from Elevaters to John West, to Kevin Sandbloom to Fresh City.  I was excited to have my own night there - it felt like graduation.  Now it is gone.  


I used to be able to walk from my place there, so it was like an extra-living room where my friends would go play music.  I used to do poetry on that stage with musicians backing me up - amazing folks like Joshua Silverstein and DJ Jedi.  Waited on line for the ladies room staring at Jaha's murals.  Danced until 2am with friends like DJ Brutha Gimel and Ben Hall.  We are looking for a new venue, but without much spirit.  Our community of performers and dj's and live artists in Los Angeles is really sad.  It was THE place on the Westside for real music.  It was always low on attitude and high on creativity and good times.  It is already missed.


Dear Wednesday:


Please be kind.  I've pledged myself to blogging on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, at least.  So while I'm putting up a post, I don't much feel like it.  I have a million little deadlines, and a few big ones, and this seems frivolous.  But one thing I've learned about being a full-time creative is this -- discipline is never frivolous.


Dear Wednesday:


Please be kind.  I can't tell you how strange it is reading and revising a script I haven't looked at for ten years.  On a crazy deadline no less.  It brings up all the troubled history of the project, while at the same time throws a tremendous distance between what was and what is.  It is easier to be objective, yet there is this dread of being pulled back into the emotional place from that time.   There is a need to stay detached, but a need to plunge in to the work, which seem to be zen-like poles.


Dear Wednesday:


Do all the disappearing projects and access point to one ever-narrowing path that is straight and true and leads to true home like a compass points true north?  (I was never very good with compasses, them being magnetic and all and me being, well, not very good with fields.)  


Where is the new to replace all this old - some of which seemed pretty new to me - and get things going again?


Dear Wednesday:  


I have to get back to work.  Thanks for your time.


Sincerely,


Me

p.s.

Dear Final Draft: 

Have I mentioned how much I love you lately? 

We used to have to do this sh*t by hand, or make a template, or just...cry. 

Thank you. 

You are so smart and debonair. I wish there was a guy as user-friendly, easy-going, and as good at manifesting my inner-cinema as you. 

Peace out.