los angeles moments.
started my job today. we produce commercials and coldplay videos. represent, among others, wes anderson, john waters and errol morris. i don't know if i'll ever get to meet those people - its likely doubtful - but i will get to hear stories about them, like the one i heard about terri hatcher today from a woman who had directed an episode of desperate housewives...
apparently there was a scene where marcia cross, eva longoria and terri hatcher were in a living room. terri hatcher was in a wheelchair, her character having had an accident. marcia cross's character offers muffins, and terri hatcher's character was supposed to eat one, but when the the director went over the scene with her, terri hatcher said, "but i'm not going to eat the muffin". and the director said, "well, if you want a bagel, we could get that, whatever you want..." and threw a fit, saying, "no. no. i'm not eating anything. cut away from me before i have to take the bite".
and then i was driving home, going south on la brea, just around sunset. la brea is a five or six lane street at that point, and it was very congested, and i was in the middle lane, as i said, going south, maybe 8 miles an hour.
i was looking out my side window, at an apartment complex, 60's era architecture, palm trees on the lawn, and i saw a dog. i thought for a moment that he only had three legs, but upon a more concentrated look i realized that he, indeed, had all four, only his front left leg was injured, he wasn't putting any weight on it as he walked around the lawn in front of the apartment.
and then i noticed that he had blood marks there, where his arm met his torso. some on his chest and some on his side. from the middle of the street, in the almost dark, i couldn't tell if they were fresh.
i had a few minutes in traffic to stop and watch him hobble around the grass. my immediate instinct was to stop, get him, help him. but i was trapped in the middle of a busy, stopped street, with no parking allowed on either side of the street, and no nearby parking lots to pull into.
and, i thought, even if i found somewhere to stop, even if i got him into my car (and what if he bit me, this strange dog, whose wounds could have been from a car, or a bullet, or a beating, or another stray dog...i don't have any health insurance. what if i needed medical attention? or a rabies shot?), by myself, this middle to big-sized dog...i have no idea who to call, no idea where the nearest veterinarian is, the boy probably isn't getting home til 9 tonight, i couldn't bring this injured strange, maybe sick dog home, to this house, with the two little healthy dogs...
i looked around into the other cars, to see if anyone else was noticing him. no one seemed to be. the light turned green, and the cars in front of me began to move. i moved with them, hoping that someone might pass him by on foot, or maybe someone from the apartment might see him and help him. people would be getting off the bus a couple blocks south, it was rush hour, someone was bound to help him, i thought, just not me.
i tried not to think about the possibility of everyone else thinking that.
i felt like i was in crash, or something. i feel horrible.
apparently there was a scene where marcia cross, eva longoria and terri hatcher were in a living room. terri hatcher was in a wheelchair, her character having had an accident. marcia cross's character offers muffins, and terri hatcher's character was supposed to eat one, but when the the director went over the scene with her, terri hatcher said, "but i'm not going to eat the muffin". and the director said, "well, if you want a bagel, we could get that, whatever you want..." and threw a fit, saying, "no. no. i'm not eating anything. cut away from me before i have to take the bite".
and then i was driving home, going south on la brea, just around sunset. la brea is a five or six lane street at that point, and it was very congested, and i was in the middle lane, as i said, going south, maybe 8 miles an hour.
i was looking out my side window, at an apartment complex, 60's era architecture, palm trees on the lawn, and i saw a dog. i thought for a moment that he only had three legs, but upon a more concentrated look i realized that he, indeed, had all four, only his front left leg was injured, he wasn't putting any weight on it as he walked around the lawn in front of the apartment.
and then i noticed that he had blood marks there, where his arm met his torso. some on his chest and some on his side. from the middle of the street, in the almost dark, i couldn't tell if they were fresh.
i had a few minutes in traffic to stop and watch him hobble around the grass. my immediate instinct was to stop, get him, help him. but i was trapped in the middle of a busy, stopped street, with no parking allowed on either side of the street, and no nearby parking lots to pull into.
and, i thought, even if i found somewhere to stop, even if i got him into my car (and what if he bit me, this strange dog, whose wounds could have been from a car, or a bullet, or a beating, or another stray dog...i don't have any health insurance. what if i needed medical attention? or a rabies shot?), by myself, this middle to big-sized dog...i have no idea who to call, no idea where the nearest veterinarian is, the boy probably isn't getting home til 9 tonight, i couldn't bring this injured strange, maybe sick dog home, to this house, with the two little healthy dogs...
i looked around into the other cars, to see if anyone else was noticing him. no one seemed to be. the light turned green, and the cars in front of me began to move. i moved with them, hoping that someone might pass him by on foot, or maybe someone from the apartment might see him and help him. people would be getting off the bus a couple blocks south, it was rush hour, someone was bound to help him, i thought, just not me.
i tried not to think about the possibility of everyone else thinking that.
i felt like i was in crash, or something. i feel horrible.
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