Welcome to the Dollhouse

Cellphone? Check. Business cards? Check. Gum after the Subway hero that served as dinner? A definite check.

The thing I love about my homeboys here is that when we roll out here I get to be the quiet one, the rookie, the one who gets introduced instead of making introductions. When I veered east instead of West after Atlanta, it made the way for me to have a very different experience. But fittingly enough, all of us have ended up at that point where we can take or leave any given scene. Nowadays it's all about the work.

Fred Williamson is a big dude. And he looks just like he does on screen except the hair dye is a little more obvious. He gives us a "Wassup dog?' as we roll past him at a hotel entrance on our way to a Nylon Magazine party celebrating the new 90210 on the CW. Whereas my rather hip and ethnic circles celebrate curves, LA is all about straight lines: long legs, four-inch heels and very little hips or ass to speak of. The Barbie doll effect is a staple in Hollywood.

I pass Paris Hilton and have to admit that she's far cuter in person. Paulie Shore is a lot smaller. The Asian sidekick guy from Dexter is on some Alpha male shit in real life. The DJ's doing these Daft Punk-style robotic mixes of every song known to man.

The open bar gives us free vodka, which is needed to endure the lack of substance all around me. Back in Brooklyn there's so much psychic traffic that it's overwhelming. Here, it's completely empty. A six-one biracial sista looks a lot like Beyonce circa the first DC album. But as she scopes us, the three black guys in the room, we might as well be as transparent.

We meet a comedienne who isn't funny, a goofy girl who keeps complaining about the hindrance that her gay friend will be when it comes to getting into the next club, and a brother who looks annoyed when we kind of butt in and make introductions to the collective of Asian females he's sitting with.

The law of this land is so different. I'm as much of a believer in making an entrance as the next man, but the game out here is still an adjustment, even though I know it well after all of this time. Earlier in the day I listened to an executive producer tell several stories of hack TV writers who continued to get better jobs despite their lack of ability. I smell weed every time the wind shifts. I meet J'Davey in person and see that she's just as striking as I wanted her to be.

I've been here a week now with one more to go. Jet lag is making work harder. I get tired more easily. My body feels lost, even in the mere three-hour time difference. But I'm getting things done more easily than I might have hoped. I've got more people to see than I have time for. And I was worried about getting bored. Tsk. Tsk. Out.