Struggling with a couple of morbid things... addiction and art. A deadly combination. Helluva a time to have to purge my evil urges during the home stretch of arguably the most vital moment as a scribe. Perhaps that could be the plot of an upcoming book?
I have been heavily distracted the past week, some of it was welcomed, but I have been disappointed with my overall output since I returned from Hampton/DC. I should have finished Lost Vegas by now. I know that I'm getting pissy about only being a couple of days over deadline, but time is money and since my time is always so limited, it's highly valuable. A precious commodity.
I woke up today and told myself that I wouldn't make any more excuses and finish strong. Consumers don't care about the struggle within. They just want to be fed, and tragically, they want their art food sped to them in glops of sugar-coated crap.
I thumbed through a copy of L.A. Weekly at the diner. Why? I had no pages to edit because I did not contribute to Lost Vegas on Wednesday (hold on for an explanation). I sat at the counter and thumbed through the different pages. I read the cover story and was impressed with Courtney Moreno's piece titled Help Is On the Way about a rookie ambulance driver in L.A.. Pleasant surprise.
I also thumbed through the back pages and realized that both Yonder Mountain and Dark Star Orchestra were stopping through the City of Angels next week. Nicky frowned when I suggested the Yonder show. She has an aversion to all things twangy, especially banjos. She seemed interested in checking out the Dead cover band, but the show was already sold out.
I also read a review in L.A. Weekly about Sugar, a new baseball flick about a Dominican teen who tries to make the big leagues.
I didn't write on Wednesday because I got a call about a freelance job offer and I spent most of the day working out logistics and re-arranging my schedule to accept an assignment that is less than 2 weeks away. I'm headed down to Argentina to cover the Latin America Poker Tour. I'll be working with Mean Gene, as my partner in crime. He had never been to South America before and I told him that he had nothing to worry about, before I asked him to carry a bag through customs for me.
"Nuh-uh, I've seen Midnight Express, I know how that all ends," replied Mean Gene.
So much for using Mean Gene as a drug mule. However, he seemed interested in a side trip to hunt down ex-Nazis. I heard that a few still have a pretty penny on their heads. Who knows, we might be able to branch off into a new career as bounty hunters.
When criminals go underground and head to Argentina because of the lack of expedition treaties, who do you call? Again, could be an interesting idea for a Hollyweird flick with Russell Crowe and Wil Smith.
The Argentina trip is not the best time, but money talks. I could use a few bucks to help fund summer tour. Plus, Nicky is already going to cover the same tournament. She's working with Otis for PokerStars for that gig, so it's kinda cool that I'll get to hang out with her and other good friends. Otis was having a rough Wednesday, and it appears I lifted his dour spirits with the news of my impending appearance in South America for a round of Argentina lime tossing.
I explained to my mother that... "I'm going to Argentina in 2 weeks."
"Be careful," she said in her thick NY accent. "Don't do drugs. In South America, they throw people in jail for doing drugs!"
They don't put people in jail for doing drugs, I explained, just trying to smuggle them into America.