Moving Day

My new place on Comstock is amazing. Not that I didn’t care for my old condo in Westwood, but there is just something about Beverly Hills that makes you feel like you’ve “made it.” I spent over four months looking at places in this area. My friends were all telling me that I was being too picky and should just settle for something nice in Burbank close to the studio, but I’m not on a fucking budget anymore and I refused to let anyone make me feel like they could put a price on MY dream home.

So now that I have it, I hired an ass load of movers to take all the heavy furniture over there from Westwood. I told them not to touch any of the shit in my office. No one even goes in there. That’s where I keep all my personal keepsakes. It’s ridiculous some of the things that I have saved over the passed ten years. I have scripts that never saw the light of day, Awards, Storyboard sketches, and a decent amount of framed photos with me and the actors I have directed over the years along with some really unique gifts they’ve all given me. It’s really quite a lovely shrine of all my accomplishments in the business.


It all fit into three really big boxes. Except for the Autographed Fender Guitar that John Mayer gave me last year for directing his music video. I had to pick up a special case for that over at SamAsh. Also, I didn’t want my photos getting ruined so I put them each into a folder and filed them away into smaller box labeled “Pictures.” I placed that in the backseat with the guitar case.


I had to meet up with my DP on the way to scout a location for the new movie. We start production in three weeks, and I haven’t seen one decent abandoned house to shoot the rape scene in. My GPS wasn’t able to locate the address, so I just parked two streets over and walked. I was gone for maybe 45 minutes and get back to find that someone had broken into my car. I would have usually stayed pretty calm in a situation like this, but instead I freaked because I knew every single irreplaceable item I have ever owned was in my car at that moment.


The first thing I notice missing was the CD player. Wow, what can you hock that for? 25 bucks? They should have tried for the GPS. I checked in the back. From first glance it appeared as if everything was untouched. I paced around the car stepping on the broken glass trying to get LAPD on the phone. I was on hold for 28 minutes before I noticed that the box labeled “Pictures” was also missing. Fuck. Who, besides me, would want a bunch of autographed pictures made out to: “My Favorite Director….” The Mayer Guitar was just sitting there where I left it. Why wouldn’t they steal something that is in a case shaped exactly like an expensive guitar? Some people are fucking idiots.


AJ