The Truth Is Negotiable
But then again, what isn't?
[Photo by me]
What a week. We laughed. We cried. We moped. We persevered. We survived. We thought we failed, but when we change the lens, it looks like we succeeded. Who’s to judge the quality of our life? In the end, we’re the lighthouse in the storm.
Last week I mentioned that one of Hollywood’s most famous (and shortest) TV executive producers hit me up on Tinder. When you live in L.A., dating apps are sprinkled with folks you’ve seen on the screen. Among those I’ve spotted in Swipeland: Mike Judge, The Allstate Guy, Stuttering John, Todd Bridges, and a porn director who shall remain nameless. I’ve since quit Tinder—again.
Speaking of adult content, I’ve been working on a novella that I started a few months ago. It’s called The Pornographer, and it’s about a pornographer. I’ve written about a fifth of it. It’s pretty fun to write. The story is told from inside the main character’s head. It’s set in a futuristic world in which a virus has decimated the adult industry. A new technology is being used to create adult content, and it’s causing some meatspace malfunctioning. It’s Neuromancer meets Ulysses.
Recently, I had a great conversation with the executive producer of a TV series that I used to appear on. The first time I was on this show, he gave me some great advice. The show was half an hour long and aired on a basic cable network. Excluding commercials, that mean the show had about 22 minutes of airtime. Prior to my first appearance on this show, I had been on TV exactly zero times. So he sat me down beforehand, and he said something to the effect of: “You have 22 minutes.” Basically, he was saying, this is your shit-or-get-off-the-pot moment. This is your do-or-die time. You can’t live your life like every 22 minutes is The 22 Minutes, but you should be able to recognize when your 22 minutes arrives.
Speaking of which, a better world is possible.
Here are some shows you should be watching: “P-Valley,” set in a strip club in the Mississippi Delta; “Lovecraft Country,” set in an alternative universe that exposes America’s white supremacist underbelly in a land populated by monsters; and “I May Destroy U,” in which one woman dismantles her sexual assault.
I took this photo of a mannequin screaming. (Actually she’s laughing.)
The last of my series of job interviews with three different tech companies came to a conclusion. Generally, I was overqualified for these roles. I’ve since surmised I was punching below my weight. So, now I’ve changed my weight class.
Regardless, I’ve learned a lot: about venture capital and SaaS, growth hacking and strategic planning, likability and authority. Want to hire me or know someone who does? I am a fucking Swiss Army knife of talents. Here’s what I do.
The other day, I was driving through the Valley, where I live. I drove from Valley Village, through North Hollywood, and into Burbank. I was feeling frustrated with life, and for some reason I started thinking about how I ended up being an on-camera reporter for a Playboy TV show called “Sexcetera” years ago. I tried to remember how I got that job, which I did for five years. I scored the gig within a year of moving to Los Angeles, but how had it come about? I couldn’t recall. Maybe a girlfriend referred me? I had no recollection of even auditioning for it. That opportunity ended up taking me around the world, from the Playboy Mansion to London to Mexico to Amsterdam to New York City. It’s possible that in life, there is no strategic plan. There are just things that happen, and how we respond to them, and where life takes us once we latch onto them.
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I’m a writer and a consultant. Want to hire me? Go here.