apparently my ass type is walk on

No, I haven’t had a stroke. I went to pitch at Netflix on Tuesday and because the line of cars waiting to get on the lot was too long I parked on the street and went through the pedestrian gate. The guard gave me a pass but the letter “P” was missing so it said, “ass type: walk on.” I love that. I don’t know why — it’s so 8th grade but somehow it fills my heart with joy. I collect my studio passes — it’s like proof that I existed once as a writer. I keep them in a scrap book. Almost all of them correspond to disappointment. A few are from moments of selling something or getting good news. You may think that there’s so much disappointment being a writer — and I suppose if you’re attached to the outcome there is. I once was. Then I decided not to let my happiness hinge on my career. I’ve been much happier since. The words of Karen Finley echo in my head, “Just a shade too ugly.” It’s how I used to feel about myself (and when I’m feeling sorry for my self, even now). Just a shade too ugly is another way of saying “always a bride’s maid…”

Tuesday was my pitch — wherein I learned about my ass type. I should know more next week if it’s a yes or a no. TV is really fast. In features months can go by before you know anything. Netflix is crazy fast in terms of how quickly they let you know. It’s a book that the Christmas Movie Producer, we’ll call her AM set up at Netflix. They want to make a series out of it but they wanted a woman to write the series. Fair enough, it’s a female protagonist and right now the hottest thing is diversity. I still think being gay makes me diverse — but I get it. I’m a white guy and people don’t know I’m gay unless I bring it up. I can retreat whenever I want. Point of story, my niche is gals and gays. If it did get picked up I’d want a woman show runner for sure and I know a half dozen I could go to. But let’s not put the cart before the horse. They haven’t said yes and the likelihood of a yes is one in ten.

Then I went straight to AFI, taught a class, went home and wrote ten pages of my Jessica Hahn treatment. I sent it in to the producers last night and they loved it. I am so relieved. I had no idea if it was any good or not but they were super happy. Then I got up at 7, read my students work and taught a class this morning. I’m POOPED. So tired. So very, deeply, tired. I was working 14 hours a day every day this week and I still managed to go to the gym Sun – Wednesday. I took today off from the gym and I feel like the Elephant Man. I’ve never been a body obsessed gay — and I am pretty average looking. My physical freak out is very much a mid life crisis. I’m turning 50 in May and it’s like — when did this happen? My gray hair. Yikes. I’ve been balding since I was 19 so being full Jean Luc Piccard is not that shocking to me — however the gray is. At least I have inherited my family’s notoriously oily skin so I don’t have wrinkles. Anyhow, my plan for fifty is to be swimsuit runway ready at all times. I think that’s a normal, healthy and realistic goal. I may have to order water from the Ganges River off the Internet in the hopes of contracting dysentery to lose that stubborn last 40 pounds, but it’s not like I’m doing anything crazy. They used to sell tapeworm eggs in the 1920’s for people to swallow as a means of weight loss. I took a long, hard look at cool sculpting before coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t effective enough. I’m not going to pay $500 to lose half a pound. I mean I could cut out sugar and alcohol but what meaning would my life have then?

D’s in San Francisco for work tonight so it’s just me and the dog. His cousins sent him a pumpkin plush squeaky toy that he is in love with. It’s very cute. He loves a plush toy. He never tears them up, either. He carries them around, gently nibbles them but never chews them. He’s a 75 Lb German Shepherd mix with a bark that sounds like a hell hound but secretly he’s a widdle baby angle. The worst thing in my life (aside from our evil president) is my jacuzzi is on the fritz and I’d really like to soak. This is why most days I feel like I live in paradise. Night blooming jasmine is literally blowing in my open window right this instant. Come on! I’m very lucky even if I am a shade too ugly.