kind of tired of that drawn out story....

I'm getting ready for vacation, and hoping that along with a good time, stories abound will come of it. Just the fact that I'm driving through the south of Arkansas, Albama, and Mississippi should be enough to fulfill that goal. So up and away, or is it down and below?

into the bowels of the buffet/eatery....

So, the Maverick Steakhouse is like a Ponderosa/Bonanza resturant, and taken back just a few steps. Lots of wood panels, rough and coarse, the type you didn't want to rub up next to with the fear of getting a splinter. Through the cattlelike line bordered by wooden railings we reached the faded yellow menu sign with the "oh so good" looking "yum-yums". That's me being insincere, if you didn't guess. So after approaching the register with a steak displayed in front that looked like it had been there all day, we ordered. Halice was kind enough to offer anything I wished on the before menu. I decided I'd order the best steak I could find, thinking it would be equal to the worst steak you might find at any normal steakhouse. After ordering the filet mignon, she handed us to additional oval plates. Halice asked want they were for, and she said the buffet. So, in addition to an entree, there was a buffet added on, huh. Halice went on to ask about the status of the steak sitting in front of the register, in which she said it had probably been there for a couple days, yummy. So it was on to pick a table. I was hoping for something in the back out of the way and out of any site, thinking that if there happened to be a single soul in this one and a half horse they wouldn't notice me. Halice of course sat us to the closest table to plump surrounded buffet set up.

toyfair ny '07.....

I really want to talk about this, and some of the offerings coming out this year. I'm a huge lover of toys, and really holding onto my childhood (to the dismay of my girlfriend, if you listen closely you can hear her sigh in the background). Star Wars, DC Superheroes, Batman, Justice League Unlimited, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles all have stuff meant to make me spend my money on. More later...

i'll drive if food is on the menu...

it was only an hour and a half back to the St. Louis area, and it was going to be a long ninety minutes. Or maybe my blood sugar was just getting low. It was evident from the looks of my travelling partner, Halice, that he was riding high on a mixture of pilot creation goodness, and the remains of two doses of insulin coursing through his thick veins. Halice is a big man, large, plump, fat, and it was no surprise when he was first to mention stopping for some chow and grub. Little did I know that grub/chow was going to be the most accurate description of were we would be dining this fine Friday night. About half way through we stopped at the most promising exit for food and resturant choices. Halice being the captain of the whole adventure was of course the one to choose where he was going to us both to dinner. He chose "The Maverick Steakhouse" as he asked "You like steak right?". Course steak was not really what I thought upon pulling into the crowded parking lot. This was not the place for a quality choice of beef, and it was evident that the one horse town we were in didn't particularly care. It was date night for the people of middle Illinois.

whadda ya think, whadda ya think...

It didn't take long for Stretch to get on board. Much like Deano it was clear that he was up for any sort of work, so much that I don't think he really listened to the idea and what was in mind for the project. He just seemed to nod, and listen to individual parts that might make any response he made worth a damn. But, more importantly it was a trip to his basement, trophy room, braggards' den. There among photos of himself and achievements it became clear what type of man he was. Unlike Deano, Stretch had more photos of memories, rather than star power and trinkets to show what an impressive place he was and had been through life. There among various Paramount Picture retirement and achievement awards and gifts were photos of Stretch with the people he had worked with, and not movie stars or big named/ recognizable faces, but rather the behind the scenes guys. You could catch his smiling face in the crowds of set builders all posed for a group shot. I started to interject with ideas of what the vision of the t.v. pilot's set should look like, and Stretch saw the vision pretty quickly. This was nothing new for him, and I wasn't going to present him with a challenge. I thought the look of the Jungle Cruise at Disneyworld's Magic Kingdom covered all the bases. Just as quickly as we had entered the basement, we were on our way out. Stretch's wife was looming and it was evident we had stalled our time, and they were going to be late for more pressing engagements. As we walked out the front door she commented on how next time she would cook for us. Being a single 29 year old (girlfriend aside, sorry hun) I'm always up for the free meal no matter where it's coming from, probably be the death of me. But I would at least hope the poisoned feast would let me kick off with a belly full smile on my face. Not horrified like I'd just eaten bad beets or some other root vegetable. As we walked down the driveway back to Halice's SUV, business card trading done, and hobnobbing in the past Minus, our fearful writer trailed behind the way to his early ninties Camero. All the way pandering to Halice that he would email and keep in contact. I unfortunately, or fortunately, had already sabotaged his hopes of work on the project. The keys were handed off to me as Halice turned back to Deano to give the obligatory "I'll give you a call within the week". We left mid evening, and just in time I was getting hungry for dinner, but as I would learn, this yerning too could be a curse....

there's got to be a shorter route...

I don't know what it was. Whether Deano wanted to show us the absolute blandness of his hometown of Springfield, IL or if he was showing some bravado as to how unaffected by gas prices were, and be damned to them. Needless to say the route across town to the set designers house was a lengthy one, and this town was flat and the absolute definition of suburbia. Upon reaching our destination, me driving with my slowing sinking friend next to me (beer and insulin, I could have told was not a good idea), proceeded into this equally upper middle class home. It was uncanny. You would think that as members of the same faternal film making society that these guys had made a pact to all live in similar homes. Course I didn't see were the writer was living, more than likely a shanty on the wrong side of the tracks that's only contents were a rusty 1980s typewriter and an inflatable mattress with unwashed sheets wrapped around it. The similarity of Deano and this new guy's house brought to my mind the thought that maybe the only was to successfully work together, these fellows had to be on the same page not only creatively, but also lifestyle-wise. If one was better off looking than the other there could be decention in the creative ranks. Or so this is what popped into my head. The house belonged to a tall well quaffed black fellow who wore a sweater much like Cliff Huxtable might and his wife equally as glamorous wore a sparkle ridded dress much like the episode of the Cosby Show where Claire wanted to lose weight to fit into her dream dress to go to some fancy well-to-do party. They were both on their way out when we arrived, they too were off to some elegant get together. Pretty ironic really. He was about 6' 2", and you could tell that in his early days he was a lanky guy, probably had a nickname, "Stretch", or at least was called a "tall drink of water" once or twice. Stretch was more subdued and a more intrigueing and truthworth personality than Deano, and it was clear that even though they both lived in similar homes, Stretch had done much better financially. He walked us down to his basement, another show place to be sure, complete with full bar, and instead of signed photos and posters he had awards and plaques that comemorated his past ventures and deeds in the movie industry. He was a sentimental guy much more than a braggert as Deano had come off. The writer as I had learned followed behind, and Stretch looked not to be very impressed with him either as it looked like they had had past dealings, and more than likely Stretch had been begged to by the wormy little typer. So started the second presentation...

enough of this meeting stuff...

Deano was one definitely not one to walk about and flirt in a meeting scenario. After money was mentioned it was time to "blow" the joint. It was up and out of the basement, but not before a quick trip to the restroom where Deano's son's 6 year old daughter barged in on me while I was doing what had to be done in the confines of a bathroom enviroment. That was a great addition to an already weird day. Most would have at this point had a panic attack. Needless to say I was eager to leave Deano's house, and get back to the St. Louis area. As I stumbled up the basement stairs to the condo style living room and equally stale kitchen halice made his way to the fridge to find a soda, more importantly a soda with sugar in it. But, no such luck so he was forced to chug down a light beer. It gets better. I watching one diabetic future kid's show host chug down a beer while at my side is a mental patient of a writer still rambling on about a script that was getting worse and worse and more boring, and boring. Deano led us into his upstairs office for a minute while he called the set director we were to meet next (another attempt that would impress Halice enough to start making the checks out payable to cash). I noticed as I stood over D's desk is there were several documents that included large, large sums of money. One was a money transfer of some sort that had a number of 14,000 dollars plus and the other was a cancelled check upwards of 4,000 dollars. This was all impressive and such, but it was quite evident that these items were set here on purpose so that nosey folks like myself would snoop and find something that would put confidence into throwing money at he and his business. As we walked to a the car a very lit Halice handed me his keys stating that the mixture of alcohol and insulin was making him a bit wonky. I figured it was useless to tell him that I thought we should find a different writer to work with.

actually the bowels of "D"....

In general the meeting went as Deano said it would, quick and to the point. But, what fun would that be leaving it at that? Deano's son, let's call him Cletus (god I love that name) galloped into the main room of the basement offices and plopped down in his appointed folding chair. Not just any folding chair but one of those canvas types, and not the studio type canvas chairs, but rather the camp fire type. To my left was this whelp of a writer, scary really. I think 'Minus' is as good a name as any for his description. So Deano slammed down the imaginary gavel of his assertiveness and the brainstorm began to shower down. Halice went into his spin, trying as best he could to remember all the layout we'd gone over in the car, and still present it with the same passion all the while saying the lines exactly as he had put them down to memory in the car two hours earlier. All the while Deano nodded with a real intensity, more of a "b.s." intensity that begin to drift the further along we got. The itch of money was starting to scrap at the back of his tongue and it was clear he would soon belch fourth his expertise laced with dollar signs and billing issues. Minus sat like a lost lump of sweatshirt, and yellow Mead notebook next to me. I can't help but think he saw me shake my head while glancing in his direction. It was to be a half hour show that was laid down on the block, and Halice did well getting his point across. I ended up interjecting here and there with details, some relivant, some just to use as an excuse exhale rather than letting out enormous sighs here and there. Cletus's stance was pretty evident as he was really the monkey to Deano's organ grinder, he more than likely would show up for the gig, but creativity and passion weren't part of his vision of a greatness in the Hollywood machine. Deano slashed his hands up with a symbol of both "I see the entire vision you put in front of my eyes", and the other half "let's break for a pee and beer". Without so much as a wink Deano was on to stating that the only way to make this thing happen would be to go all the way and make a pilot. He was a big thinker and didn't even soften up to his grand idea, it was Hollywood budget pilot or the damn thing wouldn't be worth doing. Apparently this had worked for him in the past, but I couldn't find a poster or signed photo on the walls around me to clarify that for me. For this pilot he, Cletus (our director-glorious leader of film), a set designer (wait for it), and Minus, poor minus could give Halice his dreams and visions for the sum of 80,000 dollars. No addition necessary, no figures given, a simple and quick sum. To think any other day and the total may have been 95,000, or maybe a better gamble at 65,000. First thing that shot through my head upon hearing his proposition was that hoped receipts would be presented in the end.

into the bowels of "B"...

Among movie posters, signed photos of various stars and lesser stars, and very random props was Deano's working studio. to the right was his photography studio, cheap streamers, and backdrops for suckers and the cheap to smile in front of. To the right of that were at least six computers all humming and beeping at the commands of a typical looking Midwestern hayseed. Deano was quick to get to the point, but not before a bit of business bravado, and the expected name dropping. John Candy was a great guy, That's the actual hat John Belushi used in the Blues Brothers, that's the gun my son carried as an extra in the 80s mini series "Amerika", the story of the U.S. being invaded and taken control of by the Soviets. Pretty obscure to say the least, I dare any of you to track that little television gem down. "Let's sit down, and get down what the project is all about", chattered out Deano, and away we were. Deano motioned for the white trashy looking fellow to detach himself from his glowing computer screens (dropped the fact that he was "editing together some film work we've put together for the Discovery Channel). He introduced us to this man as his son, and then surprised us with idea that he would be the director and direct line to Deano, as 'D's envolvement would be very minimal. Other pressing engagements I'm sure, the Jolies and Pitts of the world were desperately standing by. To my left on the basement condo style sectional was a tattered late-middle age man, life had beaten the hell out of him as it was evident by the look of his grey hair, slouched posture, and overall meakness. The was to be the writer that would be working with Halice. He was the quietess writer I'd ever met, unless you wanted to talk about the script he had been working on "Psycho Billy". It was to be a Dr. Calimarie/ American Psycho farce that included one scene titled "The Boner Dance". fantastic. And this was the guy assigned to help write a future children's television show for possible Animal Planet submission. The meeting was starting to feel like a grown up fantasy role-playing session, and I was at best the dwarven cleric, since all the other characters had been picked and squandered.