I took Reggie to his first concert at the Hollywood Bowl last week to see Zero 7 w/ Sia. I had bought the tickets because I love Sia's solo album, Colour the Small Ones, but I ended up super disappointed that they didn't play any of Sia's songs from her album, though the one song they did with Jose Gonzalez on vocals was amazing. They left the stage and it was one of those things where it felt like being a kid and showing up at Disneyland to find out that it'd closed down. I had been so psyched about seeing Sia and wanting to hear her songs live, that when they said goodnight and walked off the stage, a part of me wanted it to be some joke.

I didn't know anything about Gotan Project who was the headliner, other than the fact that Jason Bentley from KCRW described them as tango meets electronica. Seriously, their set made up for EVERYTHING.

If you've never heard of the Gotan Project, you need to get involved. Here's a site where you can hear some of their tracks. Mi Confesion is my favorite, a blend of tango, electronica and hip hop. From what I've read, they're 2 guys from Paris and one from Argentina. They were accompanied by an operatic female vocalist, 3 violinists, a cello player, a piano player and a hot bandoneonist (the bandoneon is an instrument like a smaller accordian), and these amazing french-experimental video clips playing in the background. Everyone was decked out in beautiful white suits and white gowns and as far as shows at the Hollywood Bowl go, it was the perfect venue for them to display their elegant and compelling synergy. People were up and dancing everywhere where there was room. Pick up their album, Lunatico, which has been playing nonstop at our house.

Michael was in town all last week. Reggie took him to a supermarket near me to pick up an application. It would be really great if they would hire him, because the place is a 5 minute walk from my house, so he would be able to walk to work and back. I really hope this works out because it would do wonders for his sense of independence and help him work on his personal responsibility. The goal was always to have him move in with me so that he could expand himself towards becoming independent, so this would be the perfect opportunity. I get scared though, worrying about him crossing the street by himself, worried about cars and strangers, and strangers in cars with candy...I think it's really hard for a parent to let go and let their kids be independent. You become so aware of all the bad things that could happen to them. But at the end of the day, I would really like to see how much Michael can mature. He regresses when he's living with my parents so I'm interested in seeing what living with me for a few months while being more or less responsible for himself will do to him.

The film is basically done. We are in the process of getting DVDs made in time for the Sundance deadline. With all the stress and attention required to get this thing done, I feel like I'm not gonna know what to do with myself once this thing is finished. I did have to drop all my classes (business law, Dreamweaver, Photoshop) because they all started last week and I had too much going on with the film and Michael being in town. I bought the books anyway so I hope I can figure everything out on my own.

I had a dream the other night where we were hiking and looking at houses, and saw this HUGE, beautiful house (like the size of a resort hotel). It turned out to belong to Doug Savant (Gay Matt from Melrose place) who invited us in for a tour. We went into the living room (we had to take off our shoes) and I became captivated with this snow globe he had that had real tiny fish that looked like they were made out of glass. I was holding the globe and thinking, rich people have really cool shit. Then he kicked us out because he had to go to work, speeding off in a Mercedes SUV. As we walked away, we passed a Cuban bakery. I said, that chocolate napolean looks good, and Reggie says, "You don't want to waste the calories you just burned on this walk." And then I woke up.

I have no idea what that dream was trying to say. Maybe I predict that Doug will be paid really well on Desperate Housewives? Or maybe I'm getting a little heavy in the love-handles region. Or maybe I want a big house that looks like a resort hotel from the outside. I think my only criteria right now is that I would love a house with a relaxing backyard featuring a pool. And a cabana boy to bring me ice tea while simultaneously fanning me with an imported palm frond.

In other news, I drove by the pumpkin-headed guy from Prison Break. The dude who plays Lincoln. I was stopped at a light on a residential street in Westwood. This Porsche makes a left turn to go in the lane next to me going the opposite direction. As he turns, I see the driver through the open window and I think, that looks like either a Mexican guy, or the dude from Prison Break. It became obvious it was the guy from Prison Break when he saw me looking, smirked, then just as he straightened out in the lane next to me, he looked me in the eye and gunned his engine, taking off. Kind of a big show of, Look At My Penis. Speaking of things that are inadequate, Prison Break makes no sense. It's an awful show. Yet we keep watching it. What is it about this phenomenon, where we keep tuning into a show that makes absolutely no sense? Last week's episode where the brothers hold up the FBI agent with a spray painted water pistol that they painted just MINUTES before...I would like to think an FBI agent would be able to tell the difference between a spray-painted water pistol pointed at his face from point blank range (1. There's no opening for the bullet; 2. You would think there would be paint on the holder's hands; 3. You would be able to smell the paint; 3. A water pistol DOES NOT look like a real gun even if it's painted black if you are within 20 feet of it), yet the show went on like it's entire logic wasn't disugsting hokey. I don't get it, even though my hate for this show doesn't stop me from keeping it on my season manager for my Tivo.

I'm out, like John Travolta.