xtcian

redemption and redefinition

4/12/04

Have I ever told you how bad life was, circa 1997-2000, in the Beachwood house in Los Angeles? In one of my first blog entries ever, way back in 2001, I was still so post-traumatic about the place that I said some things I shouldn't have said (but I like the writing, so it remains in the archives). What that entry fails to radiate is that I was just as much a shitbag as everyone else.

Case in point: the second week I moved in, I put up a basketball court on the back patio, about 20 feet from the bedroom of Xander Berkeley, one of the most respected working actors around. When I was depressed, which was about 17 hours a day, I used to go back there and shoot foul shots until I worked Xander into a furious froth, and then the two of us would scream at each other across the fence.

I was still in some sort of narcissistic haze, convinced that my woes were epic and had to be sated by hitting 37 foul shots in a row (my record) or else I'd surely sink into the ground. Conversely, Xander had paid good money for his house and was suddenly beset with seven crazy, post-grad morons living next door, and he wasn't terribly thrilled. After he and I reached a compromise early on, I spent the next two years trying in vain to keep my housemates from screeching outside after 4am.

Okay, so flash forward to late 2000. I've escaped from Los Angeles, and the first week I'm in New York, I write a 24 Hour Play that is brilliantly performed by my brother Sean, fellow Beachwood refugee Seth, and a fabulous young woman named Sarah Lively. We all get along so well that Sarah joins Sean and Seth again for an evening of 3 one-acts called "Wine, Women and Song." Sarah then reads the Pink House script, loves it, and we plan a reading.

Suddenly, Fox flies her to Los Angeles, where she gives one of the greatest auditions ever, and lands the role of Nina on the hit show "24." On the pilot episode, she meets – and falls in love with – yep, Xander Berkeley.

And now, in 2004, they are married and live next door to my old house on Beachwood, where, by all accounts, the next-door clientele still runs roughshod over the neighborhood. And I'm in Los Angeles with Tessa, where, among other things, we are putting on the play that Sarah did in 2000. Tonight, we all found ourselves at La Poubelle, where I used to soak my miseries in Jack Daniels.

Needless to say, it feels great to survive. Sarah looks great, Xander is charming and funny, and we spend two hours swapping stories. I offer a blanket apology for the basketball, we have a memorial bourbon & coke, and I get to present myself, this time as a real person. I can't tell you how good it felt.

Unfortunately, Xander and Sarah's car got towed during dinner, so we trucked them back up the canyon in the Prius. And stuffed in the car, on top of this mountain where there had been so much unhappiness, it was finally okay to laugh.