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Not a front for a secret organization.
Written by Rob Schultz (human).

1,103: Dark City

Today was a longish day, ended prematurely. Started off at the classy and luxurious Buena Vista branch of the Burbank Public Library. Checking some internets, reading some wikipedia. Google maps advised that a drive to Santa Monica should take half an hour. Turns out it's almost three times that.

First I had a meeting with some people called Crossbar. They're making a documentary about celebrities with backyard ice hockey rinks, and we were discussing whether I might be a good choice to edit it for them. The meetings here are so strange, like the people with the money are auditioning for me. I watched a promo and we talked a bit and less than fifteen minutes later I was on my way. There were a couple lines in there that I wondered about, whether they were trying to trick me into proving I don't know my televised NHL. I don't, but at least I didn't lie about it.

There was time before my second appointment, around the corner, so I found some lunch. Lunch came with not one but two eggrolls, and the first wasn't very good. I gave the second one to a beggar. Usually in Cleveland they hate that, because they want money. Later on I saw the beggar in the alley between the restaurants and the parking garage, smoking a cigarette and talking on her cell phone. I wonder what she did with the eggroll.

I went to my second meeting a bit early, and I think it went well. Here's hoping this isn't an 'unskilled and unaware' sort of deal.

I couldn't find a place to park near my building after driving the ninety minutes (or twenty-five miles) back, so I drove some more and went to the Anderville hostel where I had been staying for a while. I was hoping to go 'out' anyhow, so that seemed a likely entrée.

Russell returned home, and so did his most recent guests. Russ took all manner of phone calls and text messages to arrange his social calendar, and his guests took down 2 liters of Mountain Dew, a bottle of vodka, and an unspecified amount of pot. Each spent around half an hour primping, and then they went out to meet the other QU folk, whose company is too exclusive for the likes of me. I never saw that one coming.

I even got a trademark Russman lie that doesn't explain anything, which he delivers with a matter-of-fact-tone used to mean "let's tell ourselves this other thing, so we don't need to state the obvious truth." Oof.

If I was really good at this, here is where I would illustrate a moral similar to "you can't change who you are in the minds of people who...something something" with the themes of Dark City. It feels kind of like it should be possible, but I'm not sure I got everything that movie had to offer on the first go-'round. It seemed to me to be made up entirely of cut scenes from those FMV adventure games Russell likes so much. Like watching an hour and a half of "Previously, on Dark City" recaps or something. And for years, people have been telling me about the "twist" at the end, so it's good to have finally gotten that out of the way, I guess.

Instead, I've come home to tell a text editor about my day, since there was some kind of foul-up with the phone company and it'll be another week before we get any internets around here. I'm told the phone company was generous enough to not charge us the enormous fees they usually stick to customers whose accounts they've mismanaged.