Hungry Cat, salad consumption six feet under and wicked witches.

One of the most underrated films of the summer has to be Stardust. Walking into it last eve, wondering how Matthew Vaughn, acclaimed director of Layer Cake, would tackle a screenplay by the likes of Neil Gaiman...all I can say is that I was impressed. Reading that Sarah Michelle Gellar had passed on the role that subsequently went to Ms. Danes, I couldn't imagine anyone else other than Claire nailing the role of a fallen star.

The film itself is being considered a massive failure in the eyes of industry elite and I've gotta say that it was truly poor marketing and a shitty idea to release this film in the dog days of August. Stardust is an epic people. November November it should've been the sweet month of November. Post Halloween & pre-Thanksgiving. Good job on that one Paramount. Brad Grey, television producer. I blame you for the failure of this.

From the opening sequence, one disconnects from reality and actually believes the world before us. Playing on our internal dreams and fancies of wanting that perfect someone to simply drop out of the sky and steal our hearts. Is it possible?

Love.

A profound word with so many connotations. We have the eternal love of blood, i.e. Billy Bob & Angelina, the abusive love, i.e. Ike Turner & Tina Turner, the wtf love Tom Cruise & Katie Holmes, the true love, i.e. Johnny & June Carter Cash, the teen love, i.e. Macauley Kulkin & Rachel Miner and the profound spiritually woven love...(insert your names here).

Let me digress to my days of lecturing at the college. It was a pre-Valentine's Day assignment. A bit abstract...write about love. a poem about love. My god, did those little fuckers groan! I was giddy as a kid on the inside. Happy to know most of the class was out of luck like yours truly when it came to that subject.

V-Day was upon us. I asked for volunteers to read their poems. No takers but one said I could read theirs. Looking it over, I stared at the kid and asked-

"You wrote this?"

He nods.

"Yep."

"Really? Your words? On your mother? I'm always wagering my mother and she's truly a wonderful woman. So, this is a big deal--"

"Mmmmmhmmm."

"Okay...What's love? What's love got to do with it? Got to do with it? Is love a second hand emotion...?"

By now the fierce people of the class were growing restless.

"I don't know professor Jack. I keep hearing this rhythm..."

"Sing it out for me, brother!"

The shy kid stood up and belted out Tina's tune and the class howled. The kid sat as we applauded his performance.

I don't think the word can ever be used properly. The definition seems to have been incorporated and corrupted through the ages. It's unfortunate. Remember a time when the word was almost a binding agreement? Now it's thrown around so loosely, vaguely, it sort of has lost its meaning. I for one am guilty of this crime of passion.

Wearing one's heart on their sleeve in Los Angeles is not the best of ideas. It's like drawing out your queen at the start of a chess match. Bad move. I am notorious for showing that side way way way too early. Not anymore. I have got my poker face on. Wait, hold on, where is it?

The great Danes resonated with me last night. Is love right in front of you or is it an idealized misconception? One's mind wanders towards the idea of spirituality and how it leads us, the denizens of Hollywood while providing us with a common connection and fucking Rachel Griffiths is staring at us throughout our conversation at the Hungry Cat. See the Hungry Cat that was with me below.

I couldn't help but overhear Rachel's heavy accent minutes before telling her husband how nice of a date it was for them. But then I noticed her taking notice of the conversation I was in the midst of. A collective thought of zen that seems to be the emerging trend in Los Angeles. Everyone's looking for that mental space. The break from the norm. I get my daily fix by working the shit out of myself either spinning or training with the hungry cat. That's officially her new nickname.

Growing up in the midwest and never having aspirations of the silver screen, well, conscious aspirations for I believe that my subconscious had these wishes lurking in my dreams...it's a surreal and obscure thing. Living and breathing your dream. After years of reading about the Hollywood storm, circling it's absolute chaos, I'm now hanging out in the eye of it. And it seems to finally be calming the fuck down. Breathe. It's just another path in life. Writing is rewriting and I'm in the middle of rewriting my life. Moving forward and watching this girl eat her salad in front of me and being intrigued by her consumption approach. I don't think even a year ago I would've paid attention to it.

Guess it's the little obscure things we take for granted that make us happy in this existence. Open your eyes or else you may never know what's in front of you. And please, stop texting while driving.

Peace.