4 - Pep Talk

Pasadena, Calif., Aug. 20, 1989

"Chris Read's on my front lawn!" Zack laughs and yells his welcome.

I didn't want to wake you guys, I replied sheepishly.

I’d given him a 3-day window for my arrival. Since I was hitching and there were no pay-phones on the highway, I couldn't really narrow the timeframe. I'd told him, "Your guess is as good as mine brother."

It's great to see one of my best friends from high school. We're at this crossroads in life where we haven't a clue what's next.

Zack wants to be a movie director. Way to keep it real, man.

The next day after a viewing of sex, lies and videotape, we discuss occupations.

I want to write screenplays. "No doubt. You can be whatever kind of writer you want. I don't know any other way," he says. "You just do it. "

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Two young dreamers. Zack loved his AMC Rambler as a film student in 1989. #TrendingTurtlenecks

His words flowed so effortlessly. He's got creative fire that could raise the dead though and supportive parents with deep pockets. You could say he's prepared for glory. And you'd be right.

Me though? As a student and vagabond, my mind's on survival...Yet, I don't want to just survive. I wanna freakin shoot the moon!

After a few days of mentally sitting in a Pasadena Community College classroom and writing for the local rag, I'm bored and conclude this is not the Hollywood dream. I didn't hoof it 3,000 miles for this. My dream was bigger. My dream was lazier. My vision entailed:

●          Drinking in bars and cafes.

●          Interacting with interesting people.

●          Observing and recording witty dialog.

●          Strolling the sunny coast at a leisurely pace headed nowhere, accountable to nobody.

●          Selling a script that pays the bills. Then starting over again a few years later.

I don't envision that happening anytime soon in L.A. So I head north to see what's brewing with Heath in Santa Cruz.