It was supposed to rain, but now it’s just cloudy and humid, as only the south can be.  I survived another week of this crap show, barely. My UPM however did not. I had to let him go yesterday. He’s a really good guy, but couldn’t manage the finances as well as he should have, and it left me stretched too thin. I have an inkling the studio may have cut me loose too if it wasn’t for my contract and they’d have to pay me out. As crappy as that would have been, I might not have minded going home right now. Speaking of going home, tickets went on sale for U2 and Beck in New Orleans. What a fucking line-up, eh?!  And it just so happens to fall as I’m passing through Nola on my way back west.  A little light at the end of this dark l, humid tunnel. I feel like Andy Dufraine in Shawshank Redemption, crawling my way through a half mike of shit to get to freedom (spoiler alert). Your mama texted me the other day. I owe her a reply. I’ll stop by and hang on the deck, and catch up when I’m in town. Dave has been busy with all that construction. Who knew he was such a carpenter. I should bring him out to LA to help me with my pergola. Have to run. Have doggie training in an hour. He’s a sweet but willful boy. Talk (one way of course) soon.