Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Bureaucracy: Frustrating to Deal With, Hard to Spell

Back in December of Aught-Nine, when I was only two months into this West Coast experiment, I was pulled over by the LAPD while cruising around town with my friend Wam.

This is an accurate transcript of the events that followed, at least as best as I can recall them:

CHiPs: Do you know why I pulled you over, punk?
Me: No, Sir. I was driving safely and at a reasonable speed.
CHiPs: Don't back-sass me. What you were doing is driving while talking into your fancy-schmanz portable phone box.
Me: Oh? I'm sorry officer; I didn't realize I was breaking any laws. I know ignorance is not a valid defense but I just moved to California and I still have an out-of-state license, that's why I don't know all of the traffic laws. Otherwise I never would have accepted a collect call from my Grandmother in the hospital. Please have mercy on my soul.
CHiPs: Warnings are for women and retards. Here's a ticket. Suck it up like the man you'll never be.

Just like that, I became indentured to the state of California. At least when you owe Tony Soprano money, he gives you the option of breaking some legs to shave points off your debt.

Yes, I broke the law and I should have paid my $50 ticket. I knew that at the time; it's not like I considered fighting it in court. Sometimes you just get sidetracked by life. I put the ticket in with some other bills and tickets, not fully understanding the qualitative difference between parking tickets and moving violations. When I finally paid those parking tickets off and I could type in my DL number and no infractions came up, I thought I was in the free and clear.

Nope. Apparently moving violations are paid from a completely separate website.

I was looking into finally getting a California driver license yesterday and that's when I found out I was trekking through Feces Canyon without shoes. You can probably guess that the ticket was never paid and interest accrued. A lot of interest. I let an earlier parking ticket get out of control before paying it and it went from $45 to $135 -- so if this moving violation was also going to triple, I would have to scrounge up $150 buckaroos to switch over my license.

I typed my driver's license number into the new website, it gave me the old citation number to type in the next field. That's when the waiter served me a warm bowl of steaming dogshit and forgot to bring the napkins.

I owed $875 dollars. On a $50 cell phone ticket. What the motherfucking fuckity fuck?!?!??

Worse yet, I was docked for a failure to appear in court and my CA driving record was in a "hold" status. I don't know what that means exactly, especially since I was still using my (seemingly?) valid CO license, but it reminded me of having a financial stop on my university account preventing me of registering for classes until I paid the bill.

There was a big difference, however; the University of Colorado never sought to arrest me for a failure to pay. I suspect that, in the past four or five months, had I been pulled over by the police for any reason at all, I would have been arrested for driving with a suspended license and/or failure to appear in court.

That would have sucked a great big uncircumcised monkey cock.

I found all this out last night right before I was about to drive for work. The reason I was looking into all this is because I was trying to fix my registration. I (hopefully) took care of re-registering the vehicle in Florida but I don't anticipate the stickers arriving for a few days. I was fully prepared to get pulled over with expired tags, show the officers the receipts and such and hope they let me be on my way or, at the very worst, receive a fix-it ticket that I could easily take care of once the registration paperwork was processed.

Suddenly I was faced with driving to work with expired tags, a suspended license, and a possible bench warrant. That changed everything, of course. I've been known to do some dumb shit, but I wasn't going to drive into West Hollywood with expired tags at night hoping one of the 28,313 on-duty cops in the area wasn't going to notice me and haul me into the Big House.

This mental math was done at about 9:40 p.m. My shift starts at 10:00. Since buses take all fucking night to get anywhere, my only real options were begging for a ride or take a cab. I don't have any friends so I called a cabbie.

The dude was quick, actually. No one at work noticed my slight tardiness. But that was $35 ($10 for a quick-ride tip) I'll never get back.

This also left me stranded at work but, mercifully, one of my coworkers was sweet enough to hang around the bar for an extra hour after she got cut to drive my car-less ass home.

My girlfriend was pissed off at me for a whole assortment of reasons. The chief one I can empathize with is this: I've been borrowing her car 5 times a week for the past month. There's a good chance that, if I would have been pulled over, I would have not only been thrown in the slammer but her car may have been impounded. She trusted me with her car and now she thinks perhaps she shouldn't have.

I don't think that's what pissed her off the most, though. She's mad because it's yet another entry in the "Immature and Unreliable BF" database. I'm sure that's disappointing for her and I hate that but sometimes I wish she'd be a little more supportive of me in my failures.

When she fucks up, I feel like I'm unconditionally supportive. "You drove home drunk and ran over an Oriental family? Don't worry boo, they were probably asking for it anyway. I'll help you hide the bodies." Whereas when I fuck up sometimes I feel like she piles on.

I fuck up thrice as often as her. And I'm probably succumbing to some psychological fallacy here wherein I think I'm always magnanimous, regardless of the truth. I might be way off here, but that is how I feel.

When I talked to her this morning, however, she sounded more optimistic. That helped.

Today's plan was to call the collection agency that was now handling my ticket and try and negotiate a settlement. That didn't go over so well.

The lady flat out told me that no one in her office was authorized to settle. She said I must pay the amount in full but that she was allowed to structure different payment plans. I asked her if she was authorized to allow me to pay one dollar every ten years. She did not laugh.

Her manager told me the same thing. "But I don't have $825!" I told him. He suggested I reschedule a court appointment. He transferred me to a clerk that was supposed to help me out.

Now I'm rescheduled to appear in court. If I ever live that long. The next available court date was April 4, 2010. Fuck L.A. Just fuck it.

God know how I'll remember to attend court next April, but at least that is taken care of for now. But what about my license? Is it still suspended? Is there a warrant out for my arrest? The clerk gave me a new number to call. The lady who answered that number was actually nice and surprisingly helpful. (I forgot to ask for her name or else I would include it here.)

She directed me to the Superior Court on Hill Street. I could walk-in, pay $10.00 and all the holds/warrants will be erased and that I wouldn't be hassled about payment until the court date next April.

So I took her advice. Being unable to drive a car, I took the metro. I had to transfer once but it actually did a good job of transporting me to where I needed to go (rarely is that the case with Los Angeles public transportation).

I passed through the metal detectors and entered the court house at around noon. I was peckish, and thirsty, but I decided to take care of all that later. Fuck Maslow, he don't know my hierarchy.

The line snaked around the entire building. Every single person there was miserable. Much like any bank or the Ralph's near the lady friend's house, there were a ton of different cashier windows where employees could help these wayward citizens but only a few of them were actually open for business.

I was in line for about two hours before making my way to one of the surly cashiers. The transaction itself was quite easy. I paid $10 to "buy an abstract" -- I'm not at all sure what that means -- and the holds/warrants will supposedly be taken off my record by the end of the business day.

We will see.

It wasn't the most terrible experience in the world but it sure was mildly soul-crushing. I felt like an extra from one of those working-class rage movies (Dog Day Afternoon, Falling Down).

I'll keep you posted on what happens next but the lesson here today is stay on top of your shit, kiddies. Only 20% of problems go away on their own. The rest will grow exponentially and eat your fucking brain.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Greg Camarillo Out, ASUS 1005HA Netbook In

Happy Thursday, kind readers.

What's that you say? The text reads differently today? As if the whole entry were typed out on a micro-keyboard designed for Oompa-Loompa hands? How creepily perceptive of you!

Today’s blog post is brought to you by way of my new ASUS “Netbook"; for $239 Tigerdirect was kind enough to send me this infantile little thing so that I could start blogging from The Coffee Bean like all these other SoCal cats.

This was no easy decision; I deliberated for a good twenty minutes on whether to buy a perfectly average laptop for $549 or this pathetically incompetent one for $239 and use the rest of the money in my checking account for, say, groceries. Oh well, 1 gig of RAM and Windows XP is good, right? Right? ::sadface::

Honestly, though, it feels good to make the responsible choice once in awhile. And three hundred dollars is a lot of money to a broke piece of shit like me.

Performance isn’t even that critical of a factor here. It was smart to go with the light and cheap alternative because I really don’t need to be gaming or rendering porn reels or watching Blu-Rays on this computer. I don’t have that kind of time. Until someone offers me 50k a year to suck at Starcraft 2, my (boring) adult needs for this computer are few:

1) Portability. The ASUS is a tad over two pounds, whereas the Gateway weighs as much as I did when I was born. And when we are talking battery life, weaker is generally better. I imagine this ASUS can last a lot longer unplugged.

2) Network connectivity. Is there any difference these days?

3) Low-end software compatibility. MS Office, Firefox/Flock, Final Draft, and foobar2000 are really the really vital ones. These will all work on a slow XP machine. Adobe Photoshop perhaps won’t run too smoothly, but we’ll see.

4) Intuitive keyboard/mouse. Okay, I’m actually worried about this one. These gigantic hands of mine were built for similarly gigantic keyboards. I suspect I’ll be mashing the wrong keys for awhile and my WPM will suffer until I’m acclimated to the new gear. Computers are only getting smaller, though. It probably isn’t a bad idea to start getting with the (tiny) times.

Once the money flows like the salmon of Capistrano you can be sure I’ll consider upgrading but for now I suspect this baby penis of a computer will suffice.

(In case you were wondering, I used much of the remaining checking account money to pay off an outstanding parking ticket from February that started at $50 and ended up costing me $133. Fuck you L.A. meter maids, I will have my revenge!)


Three unrelated notes:

First, the incredibly wonderful folks at Shompton, LLC. helped me acquire travisreilly.com the other day. As of now, that and mmmtravis.com still redirect to this Blogspot hosted site but I’m working on some legitimate coding to help me move away from amateur hour.

Go to Shompton for all of your hosting, marketing, and design needs – you will not be disappointed.

Second, Greg Camarillo was traded to the Minnesota Vikings yesterday for veteran CB Benny Sapp. Thanks for the memories, Greg, but I wholeheartedly support this move. The Dolphins were looking a bit exposed in the backfield and some veteran leadership will really help. Camarillo had some amazing hands, but we are pretty flush at WR right now.

Third, I can’t wait to see Super, James Gunn’s newest project. SLiTHER was great and I’m expecting more from this effort.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

My New Project

The flow is good these days (insert your own tampon joke here (insert your own “insert your own tampon joke here (insert your own “insert your own ‘insert your own -- Arggh! Must. Break. Meta. Loop.))). I’ve been writing as much as time allows.

Sadly, a few obstacles prevent me from maximizing my time spent working typing up a storm but most of those are short-term in nature (I’m looking at you unregistered vehicle, absence of laptop, and Grandma).

A few of the guys I work at the bar with know people who know people who know someone who is theoretically interested in finding screenplays on the cheap. And, well, I’d sell just about anything I own for a fifty dollar Subway gift card.

This has me working hard and fast, though, and that’s good. I’ve been working on a treatment/outline for a new horror flick for the past two weeks or so and I’m just about ready to start pounding it out for real and that's exciting.

It’s high concept with a low characters/locations count and those are two of the three most important ingredients to successfully selling your first screenplay. (The third is “not being a hack” and the jury is still deliberating on that one.)

More to come soon.

Pro Tip #37: Pooping is only a waste of time if you aren’t multitasking. Right up until it's time to wipe you could simultaneously write in your journal, work on a crossword puzzle, rehearse your next sales pitch, or call your Grandma. The possibilities are endless!

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

All the Leaves are Green, and the Sky is Blue

I’ve lived in California for nearly 10 months now. That’s pretty hard for me to comprehend.

I’ve never eaten un elote or a Dodger Dog, I have no idea how to get to Glendale without my GPS, I still haven’t even swum in the Pacific Ocean. In many ways, I do not feel like a very accomplished Los Angelino.

Yet, here I am.

And my life out here is slowly coming into focus. I’ve developed a bit of a daily routine, for one. I spend a ton of time with The Lady Friend (very good), eat Subway nearly every day for lunch (good), work nights Monday through Saturday (less good), and split the rest of my hours between pooping, sleeping, and writing.

I’m happy (and I’m beginning to notice an increase in my productivity). But I can’t shake this feeling that I’m simply not getting enough out of L.A. There is so much untapped culture, history, and general depravity within a few miles of my house, I feel guilty when my routine doesn't allow me to make better use of my surroundings.

Nevertheless, I love spending time with my keyboard and my girl. Those are two essential parts of my life. And, sadly, I need my job. Or any job, I suppose. I can try cutting sleep and pooping out of my schedule but that doesn’t seem like a long term solution.

What, then, will give?

Maybe I should better combine my passions. For example, taking my girlfriend to a Dodger game and writing about it after. When one activity can accomplish multiple goals one saves a bit of time. Maybe I should get a job at Subway! On second thought, meh.

Maybe I need to concentrate on organization. Buying a laptop will help. Writing in actual notebooks is comfortable and quaint, but a tad antiquated. And I'm never around my desktop computer enough to give my projects the care they require. I must join the tiny computer revolution, I suppose.

Going deeper than that, though, I just waste too much time. I’m constantly unfocused. My processes are muddled.

I need to implement a better system today. I’m making a few more industry contacts each day who are genuinely interested in reading my work which means I need to get some serious writing done. I need to produce some work that it is ready to read. I need to move quickly and finish everything I start.

Again, that's not the only entree on my plate.

As my relationship with TLF gets more serious, it will likely require additional time and attention. And money. My debt isn't just erasing itself. I need to find ways to work harder and more often and to spend less.

On a slightly less important note, the football and (later) basketball seasons are almost here.

Ugh, never enough time in a day.



Watch this clip from a wonderful film partially inspired by a California obsession:

Monday, August 9, 2010

My Mother is Not a Fish, Not Even Close

William Faulkner is in the grass.

This week’s quote is pulled from the William Faulkner (supposed) classic The Sound and the Fury. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never read it.


“A fine dead sound we will swap Benjy's pasture for a fine dead sound.”


That vague excerpt from Western literary canon came at you a day late because I’ve been on the move all weekend and have had zero alone time with my keyboard.

Being tied down to my desk is so 20th Century, I know. I’ve resisted the calls for long enough but I am finally looking at purchasing a cheapish laptop. I hate using those cheap and undersized keyboards for typing but I spend more time at my girlfriend’s house than at my own apartment and it’s just too hard to write often enough that way.

At least now I’ll be able to bond with all the other underemployed hacks leeching WiFi and iced tea refills at every coffee shop in Hollywood. Those days of not being taken seriously as a writer are certainly coming to a middle!

Also, as I’m never above a few sentences of shameless self-promotion...

The August issue of RUKUS magazine is online—skim through it and read my review of the new Korn album.

Please?

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Everybody Hurts

Miami Dolphins training camp. Day six.

Kory Sheets is the second Dolphin in the past 24 hours and the third player in as many weeks to succumb to a season ending injury. Every team gets banged up, but this is getting a little ridiculous.

Few cared when Phillip Merling destroyed his Achilles tendon – he might as well have been run over by a bus rocking a “karma is a bitch” bumper sticker.

When 4th round acquisition A.J. Edds tore his ACL yesterday, the situation was glummer. Our linebacking corps has been terrible in pass coverage and he was supposed to make it at least a little better.

Today, running back and return specialist Sheets also went down for the count (the Achilles, again). He wasn’t the one player most likely to make or break the Dolphins season but he is a good spirited role player and the injury is shitty news for him and the team.

Every NFL team has its share of injuries during camp but this is a bit ridiculous. We’re six days in and the Dolphins are already three players light on the season. Ugh.

It can’t be as bad as last year, right? Right?

[Send Kory Sheets (@sheets24k) a "Get Well Soon" tweet.]

Bill Parcells at Miami Dolphins training camp.

Photo by Marc Serota/Getty Images North America

There's nothing Dolphin safe about Tuna's practice regiment.



Other great sources of Miami Dolphins information:

- Ethan Skolnick's "Season Ticket" @ Sun-Sentinel
- Armando Salguero's "Miami Dolphins in Depth" @ The Miami Herald
- Bleacher Report
- Fins Nation
- The Miami Dolphins Spotlight

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Context is for Pussies

Gin and Tonic Salvation
I woke up on a co-workers couch at about nine this morning, still a little buzzed from the Bud Lights and gin cocktails we drank until dawn.

(Drinking with two of my co-workers last night was a pretty good time. Both are struggling actors from the mid-West with a very genuine enthusiasm for their craft. Their optimism and persistence is rather infectious, actually.)

I came home, took a nap in my bright yellow work shirt, and didn’t’ wake up again until about two this afternoon. After bumming around on the computer for an hour or two, I walked to the Lady Friend’s house to feed her cat and ended up watching Terminator Salvation on HBO. Meh. It was as unmemorable as any movie I’ve seen this summer. (It’s telling that my favorite part was when some characters listened to Alice in Chains for about twelve seconds.)

Now I’m home, bumming around again. I’ll spend the rest of the evening pretending to try and write and probably end up finishing season one of the X-Files instead.

I can’t leave you without first quoting a vague or obscure passage from canonical literature I haven’t read. (Another lazy Sunday, another new tradition.)

This week, we look to the oval-faced Herman Melville for an excerpt from his other famous work, Billy Bud:


“At the penultimate moment, his words, his only ones, words wholly unobstructed in the utterance were these — ‘God bless Captain Vere!’”


Yeah, let that marinate in your brain for awhile.