OK. This blog will be mainly focused on my efforts to 1) finish my screenplay and 2) sell it on the open market, or get someone, anyone interested in reading it. This blog could also morph into general observations about Los Angeles—whatever the readers want.
So, let me explain the name. There’s this song called “Pico and Sepulveda” that used to be the theme song for the Dr. Demento Show. When I first heard it, way back when, I thought, this is a silly song, it has no bearing on reality—what the heck does it mean do be stuck on Pico and Sepulveda? That’s not possible. It’s a cross street in the urban equivalent of a “dead zone”—between the beach and the downtown, Hollywood Hills and the tar pits, the intersection of boulevards in another anonymous corner of West L.A. Who ends up there?
I’ve now realized that in terms of Los Angeles, I may always be the intersection of these two streets—the majestic Pico, which runs through downtown Los Angeles, beautiful Beverly Hills and Rancho Park only to end in the arms of Sepulveda, named after a longstanding ranching family, which begins in the San Fernando Valley and ends, let’s face it, somewhere in downtown West Los Angeles. But the area—apartment living, twenty-four hour traffic, and a diner, Norm’s, rival in grease and good food to none other, is to thousands of Angelenos, home.
I’m pretty proud of the neighborhood and the people who live there. And this neighborhood is a point of view that extends to my writing—never pretentious, or brilliant for that matter, just a script, one I am proud of, but nonetheless, lost between two streets, screaming for affection, finding instead the anonymity of another intersection in West L.A.