Chapter 3: “Re-Setting In La La Land — Studio City, Los Angeles -- June 2002”

I have been "re-setting" in Los Angeles for about 15 months  -- full time creative consultant for boutique advertising agencies by day -- inspiring novelist by night (sometimes). I'm known in the biz as an idea man. 

The former pays the bills and allows me to keep a small promise to myself -- give SoCal a try before I settle down anywhere else. One thing that inspires me about Los Angeles strangely is that everyone has an angle -- or, as someone declared to me last week -- "a script in their back pocket". 

Plus, if you are in the "creative idea" business -- LA is a solid place for material. No one comes to LA without some kind of dream or angle. Sadly, however, normally those dreams come to an end -- here in Hollywood. 

Today -- I'm heading down to Malibu to meet with a slightly known (more distinguished in his mind, so I've heard) Beverly Hills plastic surgeon named Stetson -- his practice is looking to brand itself around Hollywood as the "practice for B-List stars". A second tier practice for the rest of LA. I've been hired to take this meeting from a small boutique agency in Malibu called "Fresh. Ideas. Inspire." I love that name.

So, it's me, my truck, some country music and my thoughts focused on anything but Stetson. Most of my time honestly is thinking about Kaitlyn; what's she doing in New Haven - we haven't spoken in 15 months...

One of the things I truly admired about her (on top of her stark blue/grey eyes) was her outlook on being a journalist. She was an investigative reporter - harkening back to a time of gritty, muckrakers. You could say Kaitlyn had a bit of Rosalind Russell's character in her from His Girl Friday. Whip smart, and sharp with the tongue.

"Bryce", she would say -- "we both deserved to be adults in the 40's and 50's -- the music, writing, agencies, lifestyle". I would smirk, shake my head and agree.

As I pulled in to the hotel's parking lot -- I could see Stetson (I pinged his picture online) sitting cross-legged on the impressive deck that was structured to sit over the cliff -- looking out over the stunning Pacific. It was noon exactly -- just the right time for a whisky -- two cubes. Hey -- I'm an idea man, they don't come cheap. Or, without stimulation. 

"Mr. Canner, good to meet you", said Stetson -- with an outreached hand. "The pleasure is truly mine Sir", my generic response. 

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