- his entertaining "State of Independent Film" segments ("Um," I say to him, "Fox Searchlight does not count as independent film—they're a multimillion dollar arm of a multibillion dollar corporation"—but he ignores me);
- his Little Miss Sunshine mini-music video (which required him to drive the movie's VW bus, which turned out to actually be a piece of stalling-during-rush-hour-traffic junk);
- and his elevator interviews with director Richard Linklater and Fast Food Nation author Eric Schlosser (because the Searchlight publicists are protective of their talent, they give Loren about 30 seconds of access to them—the time it takes them to ride down an elevator).
Aaron Lee Fineman collaborates with me on little projects, and one day he will shoot my debut feature film. I mean, the guy was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize while working as a photographer for the New York Times, for Christ's sake. But what impresses me most about his work is that, among his specialties, he photographs wayward teenagers and unwittingly manages to snap hotties in compromising positions. Who needs A&F models, when real teens will bare flesh without the aid of PhotoShop and wrestle each other without once thinking that it's kind of gay? Anyway, Aaron, who lives in Manhattan, is coming to Southern California for a short period of time in March, and he will be shooting headshots for actors while he's here. So if you want a Pulitzer-nominated photographer who can eroticize pretty much anything (assuming you want to be eroticized) to take your headshots, contact me and I'll put you in touch with him. Or you can contact him directly through his website, which features tons of great photography.
A few years ago, Rebecca Fisher starred in my stage adaptation of Mysterious Skin (hi, Scott), and she pretty much blew audiences away with a raw, vulnerable, and heartbreaking performance. Little do most people know, but Rebecca is, in real life, crazy. And funny. Crazy funny. But mostly crazy. And some things have happened in her life that would make your jaw drop. She's turned those jaw-dropping things into a one-woman show, and I haven't seen it yet, but it's bound to be amazing, if it's half as fascinating as Rebecca is as a person. The Magnificence of the Disaster runs until February 25, 2007, at The Marsh in San Francisco. The next time I'm in town, I'm going. And you should go too because the fate of the free world depends on it. (If you want to go in a big group and force me to spend time with you socially, let me know. But I can't guarantee that I'll love you back. It's a lot of work, and you all know how I feel about work.)
—Reporting From Glendale, California