Went to a party on the Venice canals on Saturday night. It was a large party, with multiple bands playing sequentially, the grill going full time with hot dogs and hamburgers, and a great potluck spread. We were there as the guests of film director and producer Lina Shanklin, even though she never made it to the party.
I had a blast. I love the canals and the people at the party were friendly and fun to talk to. Everyone was named John and came from Culver City. Okay, that's not true, but I did meet two different men named John and they both lived in Culver City. The first actually spelled his name J-O-N and was a retired computer guy who now played in a band and experimented with lucid dreaming. He wasn't especially old, either. The second spelled his name the traditional way and was in radio. He was one of the people who made a fortune (I might be exaggerating a little) selling ring tones when that business first exploded. Now he's going to write a novel about internet dating. I also had a nice talk with a professor from USC.
Came home with a headache from the wine and Mary-Suzanne got it go away with ThetaHealing. (The photo of the canals is by her, too.)
What does all this have to do with writing? Not a thing. Not one thing. But there will be more posts to come on that topic very, very soon.
