* So Tuesday I decided to go get a checkup at the Veterans Hospital here in LA. My finances and personal situation have always had their ups and downs… I’ve worked in the top administration of a major city’s hospital, down to struggling as a showgirl for virtually nothing in the old days. But the VA has always been there for me. Sure, I wait an average of 7 hours to be seen for anything. Yes, that’s 7 hours, whether it be a sore throat or disabling nausea. But hey, the disabled vets come first, and I am young, solvent and sane.
* But this time was extra nice, because in LA they have a Women’s Clinic at the VA. I was fully prepared to wait, but the lady at the desk redirected me to this new paradise almost immediately and off I went.
* I always talk about how much I love run-down institutional settings… well, not in this diary, but I do. Two of my links on the Links page are about abandoned mental institutions and the practice of exploring abandoned spaces. My secret hobbies… anyway, VA hospitals are always models of this style of comfortingly creepy ambiance. Why do I like it? Why do I feel comfortable in such places? I don’t know. I’ll leave that for amatuer Freuds to decipher.
* I go over, and to my non-surprise the VA Womens Clinic is unintentionally hilariously decorated. You must contrast the following description in your mind with the otherwise manly, Spartan decorations of the military hospital: There were sad pastel knicknacks that must have been imported from the sister-island to “The Island of Misfit Toys,” called “The Island of Hideous Injection-Molded Plastic Junk Sculptures.” There was a shelf of romance novels against one wall, near a television with the surgically-stretched faces of generations of soap-opera-actresses burned into its screen. A weird wreath of Dr. Moreau-like hybrid flower corpses crossed with roses made of asbestos hung above the desk. I could go on… suffice it to say, there are hundreds of ghetto yard-sale tables a few pounds lighter somewhere in LA.
* Now don’t think I’m complaining. It was all very sweet at heart and a genuine attempt to add a little softness to a (hopefully) sterile place. The women behind the counter were smiling, funny and incredibly helpful. There was no line. The one girl said, “We have to take care of our women veterans!” I had my checkup and submitted various test samples to ensure I am in tip-top shape and was soon on my way home, feeling a little better about my place in the world. Thanks, government!

* I am very happy today. Just thought I’d share that with you all.
* =)

* So tonight is a screening of SG at Outfest here in Los Angeles. I have no idea of what to expect. I guess I will have more to report when I get home. The movie is such a weird experience for me… even beyond the strangeness of having a movie made about events in my life, it’s a situation where every time I watch it, I am devastated all over again, but I can’t not watch it. If one of the most important moments of your life was also one of the most terrible, and it played out on a screen somewhere, would you be able to look away?

* A friend of mine in Chicago sent me some pics from when I did some modeling for MAC. Fun fun! A bit fuzzy, and I’m wearing a lot of product, but you get the idea.

* Today I pitched my first movie idea in Hollywood! Andrea and I have been working on a short film, which will be expanded into a feature at a later time, and we were contacted by an interested group. This morning we had our meeting with the top three members, who were very enthusiastic. The major problem (as always) is funding, but I’m sure we will work something out. It just takes a little ingenuity!

* A wonderful man I met on set in Toronto came back from England to film a documentary stlye piece that will be an adjunct to the movie, probably played after it on Showtime. I had the chance to talk about the military and the war, subjects I know inside and out, and so I thought I might grace the world with another sorely needed opinion on such things:
(Let me preface by saying I’m a liberal (duh!) and liked Clinton)
* The War: I support our troops and wish them safety and a fast return home. I remember myself how frightening and challenging it was to be in Desert Storm, so I really feel for the men and women risking their lives.
* The Military Leadership and Policymakers: From President Clinton’s first lie about allowing homosexuals to serve, on to the deadly “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, Don’t Pursue, Don’t Harass” policy which encourages American soldiers to commit the very un-American sin of Lieing, I am very dissappointed and hope for change. History will look at the leadership’s positions as mindbogglingly primitive some day.
* So anyway, I got to say some of those things in the interview, which made me happy. I am so pleased that Showtime is making such efforts to enhance Barry’s story and make it count on so many levels in addition to the human loss. 

* Wow, the SBIFF was great. SB is a stunningly beautiful place - a bit like a park, but not in a bad way. You know I’m a night owl, and yesterday night I got up despreately hungry for a bit of candy, so there I was wandering the main street of Santa Barbara. It was dark and clean and moderately well lit, and I had the feeling I was on a closed movie set or something. Just me and some bums… Boy oh boy, if someone has to be homeless, California is the place to do it. So anyway, I wander around looking for a 7-11 and end up skipping because I have a song in my head. Skip, skip, skip, sk-D’oh! My foot catches in a deep drain on the sidewalk and I fall down. I say something dramatic like, “Ooof!” and just lay there on the brown cobblestones for a minute. It’s the middle of the night… the shiny round cobblestones stretch to the horizon in both directions, each one with a dab of reflected white streetlight smeared on top like an infinite field of iced cinnamon rolls. The pain has paralyzed me… Mmm, cinnamon rolls...
* Moments have passed in the dark. No one comes, nor do I expect them to. I get up slowly, afraid to look under my jeans leg and see the scraped place. Maybe I don’t need a candy bar after all. I hobble back to the room…
* When everything is done in SB I end up rushing more than I thought I would be, and I run out and leave BOTH MY SUITS and my dress in the hotel room closet. They were NOT cheap suits. Oh lord… well, I won’t realize this for about another week, so, for the moment I’m feeling good… the weather is lovely, the film fest was very productive, and the drive back is going to be gorgeous. Plus Andrea arrives on Monday! What could go wrong…
* In keeping with my past road-trip history, the Fates frown upon me and decide that halfway home I had some penance to perform, probably for all the mean comments I made about a certain Reykjavik-produced film the previous day. The car smells kinda funny, so I look at the panel and see that my engine is over heating. sigh. It’s always something, isn’t it?
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