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Rachel Ann Davis, esq's Journal
 
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Below are the 6 most recent journal entries recorded in Rachel Ann Davis, esq's LiveJournal:

Monday, December 31st, 2012
12:27 am
Burrrrgesss
Not enough Peter Gunn, too much Naked City.

I think I've had this journal for ten years now, though I rarely use it, and rarely did even when I did, which I didn't. There's who you are, who you will be, and who you might have been. This is who I might have been. I don't know who I will be yet. Maybe this will be the year I find out.


Cheers, researchers. xoxo
Sunday, March 21st, 2010
1:07 am
Kit Kelley "Moonstruck Rhymesters and Common Romancers" demos
Out of the blue I got a CD in the mail today from Evie in Emeryville of six tracks from Kit Kelley's new demos. Very cool. "Jenny Said" is a big "Lola" like power pop singalong, and "The Tragical History of Doctor Heinrich Wilhelm Walter"(that's not even the whole title I think) is this huge Queen/Hedwig/Paul Williams type Faustian pop epic. "You Said You're Gone" is like a Bakersfield country ballad which I sincerely hope is not about me, "Kiss and Tell" is sort of a tongue in cheek soul raveup. I also got a second disc of unfinished songs and just outtakes which had songs called "Platte River Road", "Don't Wanna Go," "Underworld", "Metropolitan," and a cheesy 1980s movie soundtrack ballad with no lyrics yet whose working title is "Love Handel"(after the 80s band on Phineas & Ferb). It's really different from Kit's guitar songs. almost all piano, and very catchy. I am eager to hear more. Thanx evesidwich for the surprise goodies. And thank you KK.

Things otherwise are pretty good. Still employed which is an accomplishment in itself. There is some dating of dapper Brit coworker, but jury's still out. Alex emailed me the other day from like Qatar or something. Very international.

Saw "Alice in Wonderland" finally. I should have liked it, wanted to like it but really did not. Somehow I think the fault lies not in our stars, not in ourselves, but in Tim effing Burton. Man has lost his way. J-Depp, however, remains lovely. And Stephen Fry! Yes.

Do you think people write Fred/Barney slash? Because I think they probably do.

Oh, here is the Kit Kelley Facebook fan page and there are also songs here and this ends the infomercial linkage portion of our program. Two entries in one year...wow I am a wordsmith. See you in 2011.
Wednesday, March 17th, 2010
12:46 am
Friday, January 1st, 2010
2:44 am
Happy New Year
You can count me among the billions that are happy to see the back end of 2009 and looking forward to a brighter 2010. gernblandsten, tipsforteens and me went to this very un-festive party at one of Gern's co-workers' houses, but we wisely made our escapes and found a pub with an air hockey table and went to town. I called Kiki and wished her a happy 2010 and we had some of those Hallmark reminiscing moments everybody loves when they're mildly besotted. And then we all rang in the new year, cursed the hollow soul of Ryan Seacrest, wished they would build Dick Clark the cybernetic Calrkbot body he deserves, said our goondights and I came in to bed. Brings us to now.

LJ is pretty much dead now, mostly taken over by Russian multi-level marketing, but I still like to check in once in a while. I'm hoping to do some more writing in 2010, but I ain't promisin'. I think my new year's resolution last year was to marry Sawyer from "Lost" and you see how that worked out.

I'm gonna go to bed, but I sincerely hope 2010 brings you a lot of love and good things.
Thursday, August 21st, 2008
12:30 am
Another day at the office
I went to the Writers Guild today to drop off my script and a bunch of paperwork and $75 I didn't have. I got some generic vitamin-water at Whole Foods on Fairfax. And I took a wistful turn by CBS Television City, which is always exciting. As a kid I would always hear Television City mentioned on everything from "Match Game" to "Carol Burnett" and whatnot, and--lacking a visual frame of reference, my imagination went to work on the thing. Television City. What magical words. It was like my imaginary Mecca. Glistening RGB skyscrapers and pixelated highways and high-speed Turtle-Waxed trams, gigantic TV-safe set pieces and oversize props, telegenic ice cream men circling the lot handing out free treats, and oh, the celebrities, casually sauntering here and there being wonderful to each other, wearng beautiful clothes and saying the Perfect Thing at every moment. Captain Kangaroo and Mister Moose doing a crossword. Bob Newhart gives a friendly wave to Gene Rayburn. Carroll O'Connor takes a moment between scenes to sign autographs for starstruck hausfraus. Was that Cronkite having lunch with Fred Friendly? And what were they eating but a year's supply of Rice-A-Roni, the San Francisco Treat. My big sister Fannie Flagg there to help me through adolescence. Norman Lear making sure all my dialog had scope and meaning. Jimmy "J. J." Walker constantly reminding me I'm dy-no-mite. Lyle Waggoner's blinding teeth lighting the way through even the darkest night. And on my sweet sixteen, a brand new car! It was the Emerald City, Neverland, Wonderland, all rolled into one, and Johnny Olson was always there at the door, inviting me and only me to Come On Down. Oh god, how I longed to go there and never see my stepfather or my trailer or Phoenix or my miserable life ever again. I would have done anything, if only I knew what to do. Confidentially? I still would.

I've been in there, of course, but it wasn't until I was much older and everyone I idolized was long gone. There is no more rude awakening than dreaming of Bob Newhart and waking up next to Craig Kilborn. Just saying.
Monday, April 11th, 2005
9:35 pm
Strange boys play weird openings
Somehow I've become the Quentin to Kit's Caddy, that's all I'm saying. But I won't be jumping into the river, you understand. It's a metaphor. An allusion. To a much better writer.

Also I am your textbook Unreliable Narrator so consider that. Additionally I remind you that me and everyone I know are fictional, up to and possibly including yourself. So be warned.

Now on with the countdown.

Work this eve was shatisfactory. After I got done at 8 I got to play air hockey with you know who (as opposed to tonsil hockey). Kiki had saved up a grand total of two quarters but I snagged the master key so we just continually put the same quarters in over and over. Dave caught me and just gave me the look and kind of laughed. Kiki gets all overly upset when I kick her ass at air hockey so I do lay off a bit...whole Mr. Miyagi thing, wax on/wax off, etc, until he's good enough to have half a chance. At which time I shall be brutal.

We're going to watch a movie. "I Know Where I'm Going" by the guys who did "The Red Shoes". I showed Kit the Red Shoes last spring and she just went nuts. If I had a buck for every time I've since heard her yell "Victoria Page will not dance the Red Shoes tonight...or ANY night!"...well, I would have many dollars, is what. We'll see how she likes Roger Livesy. A lot would be my guess. If we don't fall asleep I grabbed "Phantom Of The Paradise" from Danny's mom's VHS collection. You sing it better than any bitch, Kiki!

It would be silly to sit here wishing I had someone. Or missing what I can't have. That would not be mature. A fool to worship just light. When after all it follows night.

I'd better get in there before she wanders off handing out favors to the Motley Crue cover band next door. Those guys are dangerous, one of them got wasted last week and accidentally killed the drummer for the Hanoi Rocks cover band down the block. Tragic.
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