LA is so weird. Nothing ever seems to sell out here. For example, tomorrow night's special screening of The Nines, with post-movie Q&A from writer John August and wonderful actress Melissa McCarthy (who was Sookie on Gilmore Girls).
It's tomorrow night. I just bought tickets now. They're not sold out**, even though it's showing in Santa Monica, where three-quarters of the aspiring screenwriters in the greater US of A live*.
It's so stupid to only have a movie open in LA and New York in order to see if it's worth putting on wide release across the country. The people who live here can in no way be considered "normal".
Anyway, get out there, Friday night, Nuart Theatre, Santa Monica. Go and learn something people! Or just go and marvel at the all-encompassing wonderfulness that is Ryan Reynolds. I plan to do a bit of both.
OK, back to imagining grisly death scenarios now.
Went to see the wonderful Wilco last night. Ahhh, I love that band. I could do without Nels Cline though. (Sorry Nels, I know you're an awwwesome guitarist, but I just don't like your solos.)
*I made this up, but it seems about right.