okay, last nite i had a dream with Sly. He’s sitting at a bar with some impossibly-tall blonde, & I’m some distance away, talking smack about him to a friend I’m with. About how horrible an actor, director, etc. he is… & that if he really wrote “Rocky”, why hasn’t he found (let-alone written) anything watchable since. Rather boring, booze-filled monologue, really.
But then there’s one of those epic silences you find in bars sometimes, & suddenly my voice isn’t so hushed by crowd walla anymore. & I look up, & Stallone is staring at me… w/ tears filling his eyes. & I suddenly feel ashamed.
For the life of me, I don’t know why.
Does this make me:
a) a terrific Producer (ie, knowing what & on whom to not waste $$),
b) a terrible Director (making an ‘action character’ cry spells putrid box-office), -or-
c) frickin’ deranged & in desperate need of revising my ‘meds.
I’m just asking.
)