Last night I made another sojourn down to Orange County. Once again, a trip that should’ve taken an hour tops turned into more like two and a half, as a result of traffic and getting lost. But it was worth it. I went to see a reading by Brad Listi, a recent graduate of the writing program I’m in, who’s promoting his debut novel Attention. Deficit. Disorder. From the book jacket: “Days after his ex-girlfriend’s suicide, Wayne, a recent film school grad, flies to San Fransisco for her funeral. When he learns that she aborted their child, Wayne embarks on a search for meaning that takes him to unusual places and through some of the most influential events of the past ten years.” Sounds like a downer, but the sections Brad read aloud were very funny, and afterward he spoke about how he really wants to write books that deal with serious topics without being depressing. (He mentioned Vonnegut as one model for this.) That really struck a chord with me, as I’ve been wrestling recently with this issue of balancing the downbeat with the upbeat, and will probably be trying to incorporate a greater dose of humor into my fiction.

Anyway, I was sufficiently impressed with his reading to buy his book in hardcover, something I almost never do. I had him sign it, we got to talking, and then I tagged along with him and a friend as they went in search of blog fodder. I took this picture. We popped into a cosmetics store, and Brad asked one of the attractive salespeople if she’d mind posing with a copy of his book. He took her photo, then her boss came over and yelled at us that we weren’t allowed to take photos in the store. We went to a local restaurant for a post-reading reception with wine and hors d’oeuvres, where I met a bunch of friends and family. You can read more about it on Brad’s blog, which is apparently one of the most popular blogs on Myspace.

Tonight in my novel writing class, one of the women, who’s a reality TV producer, described a character from her proposed novel thusly, “She came out to L.A. and did the whole typical L.A. thing — you know, going to fancy parties, dating a billionaire,” and I thought, That’s the typical L.A. thing? How many billionaires are there out here? I can’t believe how sadly atypical I am. Since I moved to L.A., I haven’t dated a single billionaire, or even a crummy millionaire. What’s up with that?

Here’s an interview [dead link] giving more info about MechMuse.

Last night on the USC campus they filmed a scene from an upcoming Jim Carrey movie, 23. All yesterday they were setting up a bonfire on McCarthy Quad. I always wondered why my bonfires never look as rad as the ones in movies. Turns out you have to use nine six-foot tall tanks of propane. I’ll remember that next time. I was hoping to see Jim Carrey, and I was really hoping to see Jim Carrey thrown on the bonfire, which I think would have had immense comedic value, but he wasn’t even there. Instead there were two actors I didn’t recognize — a guy playing a saxophone and a girl dressed in black.

I really enjoyed this new interview with George R. R. Martin [dead link], particularly his response to people who complain about “gratuitous” sex in his books.

Well, I threw my hat into the ring for AboutSF’s Speculation Speakers program. (Which I think is a cool idea.) I’m currently offering my services free of charge in the L.A. area, so get me quick before I become bigger than Mark Twain and start charging.

I’m feeling particularly good samaritan-y today. First I found a fancy earring on the sidewalk while walking around campus and turned it in to Lost & Found. Then I passed a lady whose arms were full and who was dragging a dolly loaded with boxes. One of the boxes fell off, and I put it back in place for her. Then my roommate, who just got back from having his wisdom teeth out and was in a lot of pain, needed someone to go pick up his Vicodin from the pharmacy, and I did that too. I guess I just get a high from helping people. Or maybe it’s from the Vicodin.

They’re filming a movie at one of the frat houses around the corner. I don’t know what it’s about, but it appears to involve Rebecca Romjin walking out of a frat house to the sidewalk while talking to some guy.

I signed up to be an extra in a movie. They’re not paying anything, but it’s only one Saturday and they give you free food. I’ve never done this before, and figured it might be an interesting experience.

“Jamie Babbit (But I’m a Cheerleader, Gilmore Girls) is directing a new feature film, The Itty Bitty Titty Committee. Based on a story by Babbit, Committee centers on Hannah (Diaz), who finds her purpose in life after she hooks up with a radical underground feminist group.”

I’ll be part of a crowd of pro-gay marriage protesters. Sadly, I didn’t fit any of the more colorful possibilities, such as plastic surgery patients (I don’t have “large breasts waiting for post op, and collagen-injected lips”), security guards (I’m not “burly”), Silver Lake hipsters (I don’t “look edgy — tattos, piercings, and colored hair”), topless punk girls (obvious), bridal party (I don’t own a suit), or (I’m not making this up) one of twenty-five lesbian Martha Stewarts.

It’s not for a few weeks. I’ll let you know how it goes.

I talked to the LAPD detective who’s handling my robbery case. She said I’d probably be subpoened in about two weeks to testify.

Went to a house party down in Laguna Beach tonight. Of course, my only previous exposure to Laguna Beach has been the MTV show where the teenagers wear tanktops that cost more than my car. The party was pretty cool. The host has a system that projects video on one wall, and was showing one of the most disturbingly odd films I’ve ever seen. (One part involved scads of live chicks — as in baby chickens — being shunted through assembly line sorting machinery.) Orange County is a freaking labyrinth, though. Google Maps said the drive down should take an hour, but getting lost bumped that up to about two and a half. Some porn stars were supposed to show up sometime after 1:00 a.m., which would have been vaguely interesting, but considering how long the drive back was going to take I didn’t stick around that late to see.

I’m mentioned in this SCI FI Wire article about MechMuse [dead link]. I also see that the first issue of MechMuse will include a story by Edmund Schubert, who’s a buddy of mine from Orson Scott Card’s Writer’s Bootcamp. Fun stuff. All kneel before The Slush God, who penned this fine piece of journalism.

Apparently some corrections needed to be made to the recording of “The Second Rat,” so MechMuse decided to go with the David Farland preview clip instead. I guess I’ll have to wait until the Feb 15 launch to hear what “The Second Rat” sounds like. C’est la vie.

I got my wallet back and everything’s still there except the cash. The cops told me the suspects only had $1 on them, so I guess that’s how much was in my wallet. That’ll teach ’em to steal the wallet of a grad student.

I just got an email saying that my wallet was turned in to lost & found on campus. The office closed at 5:00, so I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to pick up the wallet and see what’s still in it. The thing I really need is my driver’s license. And my health insurance card (which I only received about three days ago, after waiting for it for weeks). It’d be nice to get my student ID back too, though that’s not so hard to replace. I already cancelled my credit card. I figure at least one of those things must be in there in order for them to have identified the wallet as mine.

The Mechanized Muse teaser site is up. I don’t currently see any sample clip for “The Second Rat,” but there’s a recording of a David Farland story, and the production quality is quite impressive.

I got mugged yesterday. I’m okay.

As I was walking back to my apartment from campus early yesterday afternoon, as I do every day, I noticed a pair of latino teenagers loitering on a stoop and glaring wolfishly at passersby. My first thought was, “Wow, they’re really acting like hooligans looking for targets to rob.” I guess I should pay more attention to my instincts. The problem is, my instincts tell me same thing about a sizeable fraction of this neighborhood. And I thought that if they were actually planning anything, they wouldn’t be so obvious about it. I also never expected anything would happen in the early afternoon on a sunny day on a bustling street that’s patrolled constantly by armed security officers.

I didn’t notice that they were following me. As I crossed Portland Street, the street I live on, one of them rushed me from behind. I turned and he circled in front me, almost touching me, and got in my face saying, “Give me money. Give me money, man.” He held a knife at his side, a nasty-looking foldout job that looked kind of like this. He was easily close enough to stab me. The other one was behind me, on a bike. I backed away from them and said, “Here,” and tossed my iPod and wallet out on the street. The one with the knife scooped them both up, and the two of them fled, laughing.

A student in front of a nearby frat house shouted, “What just happened?” I shouted back, “They took my iPod and my wallet!” He got in his car and took off after them. I followed on foot until I lost him, while trying to call 911 on my cell phone, but I kept getting an answering machine. I had never gotten around to programming the USC emergency number into my new phone. I went back to my dorm, where the number is posted in the entrance, and called it. I described the assailants, though I didn’t expect it would do much good. USC kept me on the line for another ten or fifteen minutes, then sent a security vehicle over.

I got in, and the driver asked me to repeat my description. I did. He nodded and said that security had detained some suspects, and that I’d have to I.D. them. He admonished me to make sure it was really them, and not to jump to conclusions based on the fact that they’d been detained. I told him I understood. He drove me a few blocks. The two suspects were handcuffed and standing on the sidewalk, surrounded by security officers. It was definitely the same guys. All the information I’d given the dispatcher over the phone was completely correct, down to the colors of the shirt, pants, and bike of the second suspect.

LAPD showed up, and I answered a lot of questions from different officers. I got my iPod back, but the assailants had already ditched my wallet somewhere, and I doubt I’ll ever see it again. I’ll probably have to go to court to testify against them at some point in the future.

I’m still kind of shaken up. It was a lot scarier than I expected. I always sort of imagined that when people were robbed at knifepoint, some guy stepped out from behind a bush, kept a safe distance away, showed that he had a weapon, and said, “Give me your wallet.” At which point you would hand it over or throw it at his feet, and he’d grab it and take off. It’s a lot different to just turn around and see some guy right next to you coming at you like he’s going to stab you.

Okay, you remember that new story I said I finished? Turns out not so much with the whole “finished” thing. Basically I’ve spent 12-16 hours a day every day this past week editing it. And those are hours actually spent at the laptop punching keys. And geez, the story’s only 9 single-spaced pages long. I think it’s just about finished, though. I hope so. My other (neglected) responsibilities are starting to loom ominously.

George R. R. Martin has posted a really inspiring remembrance of Roger Zelazny. I never got to meet Zelazny, which is a big regret of mine, but I’ve spent so much of my life (since I was 12 or so) reading his books that it feels like he’s a friend. I’m always fascinated to read accounts by people who knew him.

One of my most popular stories, “The Second Rat,” is slated to appear in February as an audio production, in connection with the new web project The Mechanized Muse (www.mechmuse.com). From their website: “The Mechanized Muse collaborators include experienced authors, technologists, artists, columnists, animators and performers, all working with the common goal of creating viable publication venues for short fiction writers. The publication is intended to significantly extend the audience of short fiction though the skillful use of technology in storytelling … February’s issue will feature a serialised novel and short story by New York Time Best Seller David Farland.” And me. I haven’t heard the audio yet for “The Second Rat,” but the site’s editor tells me, “The performance is stunning. I think you’ll be very happy with it.” A 15-minute preview clip is supposed to be posted to the site at the end of this week.

My friend Toby has started posting a chapter a day from his first book, Crystal Rain, a unique science fiction novel about an alien world that was settled by colonists from the Caribbean.