and ready to rumble.
Touched down in Rat City at 5:25 A.M. this morning, just like the pilot said we would back in California.
Few can be trusted these days but pilots remain an honest throw-back. If your man says you're flying at 10,000 feet, by god, he's got a needle that can prove it. And when he says there "may be a few bumps up ahead", strap your ass in because you're going on a ride.
Uneventful flight, best kind.
The L.A. Fatboy crew did themselves and me proud on Friday night with the L.A. Times and the Weekly both in the house. It was messy as hell, but they delivered, like watching a team run broken play after broken play, but score on every possession. Great bunch of artists out there at needtheater, very proud to be working with them.
Spent the weekend catching up with old Cali friends, Cass and David and Melissa and Jeff and Mary and John and Morgan and all of their beautiful, mostly blonde, kids.
We're staggering a bit from the weight of the many miles, but the plan is to re-pack, load up Car 220 and high-tail it out to the Poconos hide-out for a couple of weeks. Internet guy comes tomorrow, so I may be posting from the compound, just imagine me all done up in flannel, a Winchester rifle resting casually in my lap, ears alert for any sign of approaching marauding bears.
Oh, we got bear.
And all kind of mountain vermin. Deer the size of tractor trailers, chipmunks like bull terriers. Mountain life, man. It's crazy up there.
Our MMMQ reaches back to the days of Hippie Heaven on the West Coast, when all seemed possible and everyone sang, or at least recorded, in glorious harmony.
California Dreamin', sung by the Mamas and the Papas, was written by which hugely talented John?
Was it the pen of:
1. John Phillips
2. John Entwistle
3. John Bonham
4. John Lennon
5. John Philip Sousa?
Winners get a three-picture deal with Universal, losers shoot a Western in Guadalajara, six months on location, no running water.
To the Poconos!
Bears be damned.