Jul. 24th, 2009 | 09:13 am
I do know this, however - writing is my life and my career of choice and any agent or manager smart enough to take me on is going to make a lot of money off of me over the years.
Cross your fingers and put them in your butt for luck.
May. 8th, 2009 | 03:02 pm
Apr. 7th, 2009 | 11:57 am
The story of me getting into Pitchfest is a long one, but if my dellusions of grandeur lead somehow to a memoir (I'm not holding my breath... but in other ways I kind of am), I'm going to want to have this post to quickly log the details. All steps of this process - from being invited, to being accepted, to making it on time, required manipulations. Here's the story in uninteresting timeline form... you'll have to read the memoir for more... color ;-)
Many weeks ago: I received an invitation to come to Pitchfest at my "@usc.edu" - an account that was supposed to have been closed when I graduated. The flier specifically said Pitchfest was for graduate students. I replied to the invite and said I wanted to join any way.
A few days later: I get a follow up email from someone asking me if I had taken a prerequisite class. I told her I had. This was the truth.
The next day: She emails back and says "great you're in!" Prepare for the manditory pitch brush up, meeting to be announced. I, of course, live in Portland, so unlike simply clearing my schedule and driving to the manditory pitch brush up, I have to book a fucking flight. I wait weeks and weeks for said meeting to get scheduled. Finally, I'm too impatient and book my flight any way.
Last Saturday: I receive two emails: brush up is scheduled for Wednesday and an email from the actual organizer of Pitch Fest, Neelam, wanting to know if, in fact, I 'm a graduate student. After some strategizing with roomies, parents, and good friends, everyone tells me to ignore the email and go anyway.
Wednesday: Land in LA. Take a cab straight to USC where I spend the next two hours asking around and trying to find in which room this brush up is going to be held - a piece of information Neelam sent to those who were, you know, legitimately enrolled. During search, I email the original person I was in touch with about room location. Eventually, I run into a student enroute. She tells me where it is and I make it just in time.
Thursday: The email I sent to original person the day before gets forwarded to Neelam and she sends a second email asking me to verify my credentials. Sufficiently deep in the process and in the heart of LA (and nervous as hell), I give her a call. I have to argue with her for an hour to get in. She asks me why I booked my flight before all this was settled. I told her that when her assistant said "great you're in!" I thought that meant that it was great and I was in.
Sunday: Hungover. Sneak into the Westin hotel swimming pool down town. Get a fucking sun tan!!!!
Monday: Go to Pitchfest. Was witty as ever. Dreamworks wants to read the script. Attracted the attention of a manager at the last minute.
Today: Dine and dash for rainy Portland.
[Done and done]
Mar. 27th, 2009 | 01:57 pm
Still. I can't help but wonder if at the end of this entire series, Jack and the others will find themselves back on the original Oceanic Flight 813, flying over the island, and landing safely in LA as if nothing had ever happened. I wonder if they'll remember, if they'll know what they've been through, if they'll look at each other from across the aisle, nod in that dramatic Lost way, and then go their separate ways. Kate to Jail. Claire to deliver her baby. Locke to go rolling on in the wheelchair.
All I know is that the series is building toward something, and it better be the biggest mind fuck of them all. Because if it's average. If it's a sad goodbye. If it's a fucking donkey wheel, then I'm going to long for the days when there were more intriguing questions than stupid answers.
In other news, Kings is definitely worth a look. It's a sophisticated, high class soap opera that reminds me quite a bit of the Westwing, but it has more fanfare, wealth, and spends a lot of time talking about destiny.
Dec. 3rd, 2008 | 12:01 am
Today I did all the former, except for words on the page. and Powell's. I decided it would be easier to shoot the Grotto instead. While I appreciate my brother for loaning my video camera, I was appalled by how ugly the footage was. The day was ugly though. The sky was grey, which didn't help. But seriously. I thought all cameras were fucking gorgeous these days. Not Matt's. No his looked like crap.
Dec. 1st, 2008 | 11:18 pm
Submitted my resume to C2
Made an income plan for the month of December
Applied to another tutoring gig.
Arranged the pimping of my camera - $35, baby.
Shoot, edit and upload Powell's thing.
Buy a cord to import footage.
Words on the page.
Dec. 1st, 2008 | 04:42 pm
Yesterday, I wrote 1,766 words. I worked on and off from 2pm to 1am.
Nov. 7th, 2008 | 05:31 pm
I've been going on many tirades about Prop 8 over at Notecarder, but in truth, the revolutionary tone I've taken on over there doesn't really echo how I feel. I don't feel enraged or empowered or ready to take to the streets. All I feel is blue.
LA is a hard city. They say if you can live in NY, you can live anywhere, and I often feel the same way about Los Angeles. Traffic is a nightmare. It's crowded as shit. And so many people have so much money, it drives the cost of living up for everyone else. Still. It's five hours from San Francisco. Two from San Diego. Five from Arizona. Seven from Vegas. Ten from Lake Tahoe. And you know what else made California great? The gays and how they could get married and how the rest of the country could fuck off while we pursued the actual American dream -- you know, Freedom.
Despite LA's problems, I could almost do it. I could live there with my person and my family. At least my kids wouldn't be bastards.
I firmly believe that this is a country where we need to be saying "yes" to our people. I can always make a better decision for my life than the government can, and you know, I think there's a lot of Americans who would agree. Don't tell me I can't smoke weed. If you don't want to smoke weed, don't fucking smoke weed, but don't fucking tell me not to. Same with terminating a pregnancy. Or lighting a cigarette in my fucking bar. Or wearing a seat-belt. Or giving me the option of "pulling the plug" at the end of my life. Just let me do my thing and I'll let you do yours. This is Social Contract 101 - the government should only intervene to protect their citizens from harm.
For the record, my libertarian attitude extends to conservative issues as well. If you don't want to sell birth control at your drugstore or perform an abortion at your private practice, you shouldn't fucking have to. Somebody will. Fuck. Wallmart will. If you don't want your diabetic son to have insulin, because medicine conflicts with your religious beliefs, then so be it. If you want to have multiple wives, fine. I'll never have multiple wives, but what-fucking-ever.
You sure as shit can't do it in Iran. If not in America, where?
...and herein is where democracy fails. Because the majority... the people... the crowd... well, they aren't always right and, yet, they're given a voice even if that voice is racist or sexist or homophobic or xenophobic or whatever... and there's people like Arnold Swartzeneggar who are on record for being against Prop 8, just like we wanted him to be, but was so tied to his party that he wouldn't do anything about it. Obama, by the way, is no less absolved from responsibility. We needed him to come out against this, but he never did, at least not in a satisfactory way. He could have made an ad or something, but he had an election to win.
In the same night, Bush was out and so were the gays... and I keep going back and forth between whether or not the election was a net loss. for me personally. Yes. Our country will be way fucking better now that Obama's in office. But whatever Obama does for Detroit or Iraq or Global Warming or the national deficit seems really fucking insignificant compared with who I can and cannot marry.
People in Iraq have a stake in Iraq. I don't. You probably don't either. If the whole country was wiped off the map and everyone in it was executed and there weren't newspapers. It wouldn't fucking matter at all. Same with global warming. More polution. Famines in Africa. Another hurricane in the South. Maybe another terrorist attack on the east coast over oil. Who cares? It would only exist in newspapers any way...
What I do have a stake in, however, is whether or not I can fall head-over-heels for someone and make a marriage commitment to them that not only binds us together, but legally protects us in hundreds (if not thousands?) of ways.
I'm not really sure why the Mormons cared so much about this issue or why 70% of African Americans voted against us, but it makes me sad to realize that sunny California with its beaches, rollarbladers, movie stars, shameless drunk-drivers, and 420 friendly police officers isn't as groovy as I thought it was.
Sep. 9th, 2008 | 01:58 am
Who gets married to whom in California is none of your goddamn business. If you wanna spread Jesus' message, spread one of love and peace, not homophobia and intolerance, you piece of shit.
Oh, and by the way, the reason why we are in a financial crisis right now has nothing to do with the endtimes. The reason, you pretentious prick, is because assholes like you keep voting for motherfucking republicans who are pro-business, down with deregulation, and more than happy to let the mortgage industry do whatever the fuck it wants regardless of how many people lose their homes.
Aug. 16th, 2008 | 04:28 pm
Jun. 13th, 2008 | 12:57 pm
Jun. 13th, 2008 | 12:37 pm
Jun. 9th, 2008 | 01:14 am
I stare hard at his face, a stare that deflects off his brow.
I'm sure he's unaware of his dark, watery eyes, that glance in different directions, and his slow, unwelcome twitches, fail to pass.
I listen, nod, listen, open, till I cling to his pale, beige T-shirt, yelling, yelling in his ears, that hang with heavy lobes, but he's still telling his joke, so I ask why he's so unhappy, to which he replies...
But I don't care anymore, cause he took too damn long, and from under my seat, I pull out the mirror I've been saving.
I'm laughing, laughing loud, the blood rushing from his face to mine, as he grows small, a spot in my brain, something that may be squeezed out, like a watermelon seed between two fingers.
Pop takes another shot, neat, points out the same amber stain on his shorts that I've got on mine, and makes me smell his smell, coming from me.
He switches channels, recites an old poem he wrote before his mother died, stands, shouts, and asks for a hug, as I shrink, my arms barely reaching around his thick, oily neck, and his broad back.
'Cause I see my face, framed within Pop's black-framed glasses and know he's laughing too.
[You know, when I was in Prague I was astounded by the fact that their president was also a working playwright. Can you imagine George W. coming home after a long day of being president and then penning a play? Not just penning a play, but penning and then producing a play!
I can't. And, I must admit, once Obama's president, he probably won't either, but he did write the poem above... and he was 19 when he did it.]
Jun. 5th, 2008 | 09:08 pm
I love creating setups when I don’t know what the payoff will be. I’ll give a character on page 7 clairvoyance, not knowing why she needs it, but sure enough 30 or 50 or 80 pages later, I’ll find that not only did she need it, she couldn’t have saved the day without it.
Screenplays are not hard to write. At first I thought it was this daunting task that began somewhere in the past and ended several years later. But once you decide you’re going to write one, from start to finish, once you decide to quit your job and focus on nothing else but being prolific… yeah it doesn’t take long to finish, and it isn’t that insurmountable to conceive of bringing a character on a scratch pad journey that’s only three acts. It’s like playing a video game. Your choices affect their success. It matters if they complete their mission. There's setbacks, turnarounds, dead ends, but eventually you, the writer, gets there.
There is also a sadness to writing - immersing myself in a world I’ve never been, getting to know people I’ve never known, and then having it all end. I immediately forget they aren’t real. Sentience amounts to nothing more than a collection of dialogue and actions that the same actor might one day perform. Still. I care for them, their quirks, their shortcomings and I find their journey, though always false, one that somehow rings true.
And when that journey comes to an end, it matters. Now, I imagine many writers feel accomplishment by finally getting to that final “FADE OUT” 120 pages into their script, but that's never been me. When I get to that movie moment where all the characters are cheering for having defeated the villains and the hero gets the girl, I always feel loss… some literary version of post-mortem depression. The author is no longer needed in the new world order.
Yes, I realize my delusions of grandeur are profound when I compare myself to God, but had I birthed the universe and not just a tiny screenplay, it would have taken me much longer than a single Sabbath to recover.
So my script, a story whose premise I’ll have to reserve for a locked post, nears completion. This is, of course, the first draft of probably many, but once that line that starts in the beginning finds its way to the end, nothing more than tweaking remains. The journey is pretty much over.
Apr. 22nd, 2008 | 09:26 pm
There are going to be an infinite number of ways to spin Obama's 10-point loss to Clinton, but I do think it's relevant that three weeks ago, Obama was supposed to lose Pennsylvania by 20 points.
Scandal-laden April has been his toughest month and yet, he was still able to cut Clinton's advantage in half. Obviously I'm biased, but I can't help but think that makes him one hell of a politician, a worthy adversary to McCain in the fall.Obama's bigger problem, however, is that many Clinton voters would choose McCain if Obama gets the nomination.
Mar. 27th, 2008 | 08:08 pm
As a Film and Television major, I've come to understand how important it is that a variety of news from a plurality of sources makes it to the public sphere. Over the last eight years, however, we have seen an unprecedented amount of media deregulation. Thus, the number of sources bringing information to the People has narrowed.
Enter the Miro Project, an open-source Non-Profit whose mission is to create an independent, creative, engaging, and meritocratic TV system for millions of people around the world.
Their work is extremely important and they need our help. Please make a donation. Democracy will thank you.
Mar. 2nd, 2008 | 09:18 pm
I've just driven 14 hours to Portland. Talked to myself for an hour. Followed a cop going 5 over for two. Sang with the radio for three. Tracked a sweet girl in a Toyota back and forth for four.
It's cold here. I'm wearing sandals and waiting for my Prague friends to get done with dinner and come meet me in their neighborhood, oh, and also...
...I keep smiling without control.
It's good/thrilling/amazing/about fucking time to be out of LA. That's all I can say...
Feb. 18th, 2008 | 09:55 pm
So much has been going down lately that I don't even know where to start. I've been watching TP again, SP. I got the complete series on DVD for Christmas and have been plowing through it with my roommates. Even the second time through, there is nearly nothing I understand about the mill and the fire and the land deal. It doesn't make any sense. Bob, however, is fucking scary, worse now that I know who he is. I can't get through an episode without being horrified. He may be the worst (best?) villain in the history of television.
It's odd charting my evolution over the last five and a half years. I remember Agent Cooper striking me as kind of a boob back then. But being in LA has really opened my eyes to his perspective about rural life. There is something about it. I don't think I could live in a place like Twin Peaks for very long, but for a time.
The show is showing it's age, however. Compared to the multi-narrative, sweeping mysteries of Lost, TP with it's 4:3 aspect ratio and clues delivered effortlessly by way of giants and new housing developments called Ghostwoods, things are much less cryptic. I still don't quite understand the Arm. He was stepping off the elevator to the morgue even in the pilot.
The owls are not what they seem.
I am getting out of LA. I leave at the end of the month. I'm going to spend some time at my folks' house and then get back down here to get started with my career. I have a friend who's totally going places and I intend to ride on her coat tails all the way to the top. Now that the strike's over (I have a vague notion that the strike with be ever-more a part of my post-collegiate narrative, but in truth it really had nothing to do with my slow start out of the gates...), it's time to start getting serious and quitting my job to have more time to write is the first part of it.
Of course, leaving LA to live with my parents feels quite a bit like a step in the wrong direction. But all of this intellectualizing of my career also needs to be over. That, too, is a part of getting serious. You don't get to make a go at screenwriting without scripts, so that means there's work to be done.
But now that winter has been giving way to spring, my spirits around these parts have been rallied. I've been to the beach four times the past two weeks. Bbq's are going up around Echo Park Lake. Today I went golfing. I played like shit, but being outside is nice.
I also almost got in a fight with a marine and being that close to fighting a marine made me realize that I don't know the first goddamn thing about fighting. That's a skill I would like to have in my life. Who wants to punch me?
So, if you're in LA, we should kick it before I hit the road. If you're in Seattle, then after.
Feb. 6th, 2008 | 06:55 pm
So. The end, my live journal friends, is nighish. Don't get me wrong, I'll continue reading your posts regularly and probably continue to update my own once and awhile, so, I guess it's not really the end, but more of an official, de-emphasis.
So, without further ado, if you haven't gotten the memo:
I give you NOTECARDER. News. Thoughts. Links. 100 words or less.
You can subscribe to the feed or you can get email updates. Enjoy, LJ compatriots. Oh, and by the way this post also marks the conclusion of shameless LJ-based self-promotion... I just wanted to make sure that those without, ahem, executive privileges heard the news.
Dec. 16th, 2007 | 10:03 pm
Watch my favorite episode: Dennis and Dee's mom is Dead.
Dec. 16th, 2007 | 06:16 pm
Friday was my friend's professional acting debut, a play which told the story of a soldier being investigated for killing an Iraqi family and how he steals off with the investigator's mentally-unstable daughter. It was really cool. The moral of the story - Iraq is really fucking people up. I mean really fucking people up.
Yesterday was supposed to be Hockey, but everyone bailed, so instead, I went to see No Country for Old Men (with my way hot, wide-eyed new-found friend). I totally fell for the movie -- just a superb piece of filmmaking, a careful exercise in audience manipulation. I'm aware the Cohn Brothers beg interpretation and I'm sure there were many choices that, upon a second viewing, would carry more gravity. Superficially, however, the movie was basically a gun fight between a Texan who stumbles upon some money and the villain who wants it back. It played a bit like Kill Bill. The end stumbles and loses its focus, which has been a common complaint, but other than that not bad, not bad at all.
In other news, I am in screenwriting hell. At the beginning of Janurary, a draft is due with this up-and-coming producer friend of mine. I'm only half way done with the script, so that's bad news. I'm struggling to fill those pages, so that's really bad news and worse than all that, I found this on IMDB.
So who knows what the fuck's going to come of all this?
But... every time I watch Vanilla Sky, it fills me with new-found sense of purpose and despite all anxieties, boredoms with work, a lack of maturity or self-direction, esteem, etc, I do believe that story is my destiny. It's a question of when, not if, but it somehow feels different than when a wannabe actor asks the same thing. That I don't need permission to write is perhaps the distinction between me and my actor friends. I'm already a writer, but, then again, they're already acting.
I have this habit of getting baked and rapid writing in my idea book and in those moments, my stream of consciousness will touch upon profound things. If you've never done this, I would recommend it - moving your hand over the paper, without stopping, editing, or censuring yourself for a predetermined amount of time. It helps me articulate my inner struggle. It gives voice to my fleeting thoughts and it quenches my thirst in the desert that is my script. In the spirit of carrying on, I'll end this long post (and obvious stall... WTMFA...) with a recent rapid-write selection:
"Instead of focusing on problems, focus on process. It's all a part of reaching solutions."
Dec. 12th, 2007 | 06:43 pm
Speaking of the erosion of freedom, a note on the republican race right now. You know, things weren't that bad while SNL-appearing, gay-loving Giuliani was in the lead, but now that the fucking maniacs are pulling ahead, I think it's time in my liberal, blogger way to provide some eye-opening links on the behalf of Mr. Romney (dog-lover) and Mr. Huckabee (woman-liberator).
Dec. 9th, 2007 | 12:04 am
So... check it out.
I have this dream that one day my writing will lead to income. We'll see.
Nov. 27th, 2007 | 06:14 pm
Nov. 18th, 2007 | 09:43 am
...and whilst on the topic of fucking great- I mean absolutely fucking great - movies, please also note Babel. I dare say masterpiece.
Here's some ideas for Christmas:
Not Your Mother's Slow Cooker cookbook.
Down Bedding Set
Twin Peaks (complete series)
Ali G (Complete series)
Arrested Development (complete series)
Kill Bill I & II, Babel, Children of Men
Home beer brewing starter kit
Gift certificate to Home Depot to buy pots and plants.
Gift certificate to Ikea to buy a bed.
Gift certificate to Chevron to buy gas.
Ipod video with car radio adapter and arm band for jogging.
External USB hard drive.
Nintendo Wii w/ accessories.
A gas barbecue.
Tenacious D - Pick of Destiny CD
Large, deep wok
Some good music from The Cure
Nov. 15th, 2007 | 05:17 pm
It is good internet etiquette to put the following speech after some kind of jump, emphasizing the highlights, bolding the key points etc, but you won't see any of that shorthand in this posting, because Mr. Obama's speech needs to be read in its entirety. He must be our next president...
Update: ( Okay, I've bumped itCollapse )
Nov. 9th, 2007 | 02:36 pm
Who knows what implications this libertarian ruling will have on the rights of other religions? I remember reading that in Minneapolis, there is a strong collation of Muslim taxi drivers who simply refuse to transport passengers carrying alcohol because of their religious beliefs. For a time, Minnesotans were calling on their congressmen to pass laws to end the bull shit.
Sadly, though, I bet this ruling will have very few implications for the other religions. God knows the only religion that matters is the Christian one. For a country that loves freedom as much as it says it does, there are sure a lot of ways that the state tries to regulate its citizens. It seems odd to me that there can be laws banning smoking in private businesses, but not laws requiring equal access to medicine. What if my religion required me to provide every hospitality, even cigarettes, at my place of business? What if my religion obliged me to face the east and smoke weed five times a day?
What if my religion obliged me to keep slaves, beat my wife, and bomb abortion clinics? Am I protected then?
But I digress...
This is an issue of personal autonomy and while I do completely agree that couples (or drunken one-night standers) should have the option to choose the morning after pill, businesses should have some discretion when deciding on the goods and services they offer their customers. There are, of course, a whole myriad of ways the government tries to regulate business, but requiring pharmacies to carry the morning after pill seems a little... authoritarian, differently authoritarian than, say, implementing environmental standards at a factory.
Nov. 6th, 2007 | 08:07 pm
How much do entry-level lawyers make? It's got to be close to that.
I thought this would be good news for me, but they mentioned the "baby boomer" effect in the trades today, which basically means that all these writers who are suddenly out of a day job are going to go bang out that script that's been floating around in their head. Once the strike ends (once the troops come back from Normandy), the market with be saturated with new material.
In other news, I've been getting finally settled in my new place. It is a drain of my time and energy to have added about a 40 minute commute, but this is offset by all the old CD's I've busted out of storage and listen to on the road. I'm frequently embarrassed by the bullshit that I used to listen to, but I take comfort in the fact that I am, indeed, embarrassed and not thrilled to be reunited with Blink 182's greatest hits.
This weekend was homecoming and I fucked up my hand from getting to drunk and falling over (well, tackling someone). My knuckles are in shambles right now. I look like I beat the holy hell out of someone. That's okay, I quip at work, I still got my data entry fingers.
Wow, work is boring. Boring. I might have to load some Blink 182 onto my iPod. Data entry has to be toxic for creativity. I know I'm slowly poisoning myself, which I why I better continue forth on scénario de la saison...
Nov. 2nd, 2007 | 02:49 pm
Now that writers are on strike, agents won't be negotiating deals, giving them plenty of time to look for new talent. Huray.
Oct. 26th, 2007 | 03:31 pm
Oct. 23rd, 2007 | 05:51 pm
In any case, the current tale from the Southland, as I imagine you've all heard is -- it's on fucking fire! Thousands of homes have been destroyed from San Diego to Malibu. Thousands of fire trucks have been deployed. Thousands of acres lost. Millions of people displaced. Yes, in the Southland, things are pandemonium. This is all very interesting, because the fires (plural) affect me in very few ways. For instance, today it felt muggy and I didn't want to go running. Also, the sky's cool to look at.
In other news, I helped a woman reach something off the top shelf at the grocery store a few weeks ago. We got to talking. She noticed my USC film shirt, said she was the head of Business Affairs at Samuel Goldwyn, gave me her card and insisted we get lunch. So, today I got lunch with her. We talked about nothing, but ultimately, she accepted my script and pondered aloud, "hmm.. who should I give it to?" Let us pray (or spiritually but not religiously meditate) that the SWG (screen writers guild) does, in fact, go on strike, that way the Agents in America will be anxious to read new material. (This chance encounter is slightly similar to another chance encounter I had with the man who wrote Man on the Moon. I emailed him about some tickets he was selling on CL. When he emailed me back, I recognized his name and told him I was a fan. He asked me where I went to school and the next thing I know, he's also volunteering to take a look at the script.)
In politics, I suspect the reason why so many states are clamoring to bump up their primaries has most to do with the fact that everyone in America is fucking ready for a new administration. God knows I am.
In music, Dave Grohl discussed has former project, Nirvana, on Fresh Air yesterday. No mention of his work with Tenacious D. It must be too painful to talk about.
And finally, if you missed The Fish's color quiz or Mel's Pointy Nipply, Left/Right Brained quiz, you should check them out. Post your results...
Oct. 19th, 2007 | 07:21 pm
If your computer dies and you lose everything, at least you'll keep those photos from Prague as well as that novel you've been plugging away at....
Oct. 14th, 2007 | 12:46 pm
As the earth becomes overwhelmed by our influence, our violence, our waste, by and by the Share will become increasingly, urgently necessary. In the coming years, the Share may bloom from a plan to a project. It will be our oasis. Our sons and daughters will frolic. In the spirit of a dream that is at once far away and always present, listen to the Decemberist's Sons & Daughters.
It shall be our anthem...
Oct. 12th, 2007 | 10:33 am
What young people think of Christians. It's wholly unsuprising, but well researched.
Other recent musings:
- I have no idea what a subprime is. Not a fucking clue.
- At blockbuster, I'll see the titles that I've spent all day processing at work and it kind of makes me want to kill myself.
- The Dandy's "Heavenly" is my song du jour and the theme for my new - HALFWAY DONE! Although quite bad, so far - script.
- The Beatles: what's the big fucking deal? Seriously. What's the big fucking deal? (And if you need to give me a history lesson to answer this question, then I don't want to hear it)
- Office banter always orbits around the proximity to Friday. To communicate with people, you don't have to learn people's names, just keep track of how many days until the end of the week there are.
Oct. 5th, 2007 | 08:20 pm
Oct. 5th, 2007 | 03:06 pm
...it's a poem to me.
Sep. 24th, 2007 | 07:10 pm
In addition to all this, I have tracked down a copy of the Decemberist's live show. It was in a crazy format, so I had to convert it to mp3, which took awhile. I'll try to post the entire show, over the next few weeks. Right click to download and save Chimbley Sweep Live at the Hollywood Bowl with the LA Philharmonic.
Sep. 20th, 2007 | 12:50 pm
Sep. 19th, 2007 | 10:16 am
Sep. 18th, 2007 | 03:14 pm
Sep. 18th, 2007 | 09:17 am
Sep. 14th, 2007 | 09:47 am
Maybe I can direct my own stuff too.
Sep. 13th, 2007 | 10:06 am
It's very fucking disturbing....
Sep. 11th, 2007 | 01:04 pm
From Neil Diamond... should have heard this a week ago:
LA's fine, sunshine most of the time. The feeling is laid back. Palm trees grow and the rents are low but you know I keep thinking about making my way back. Well, I'm New York City born and raised but nowadays, I'm lost between two shores. LA's fine, but it ain't home. New York's home but it ain't mine no more
"I am," I said to no one there and no one heard at all, not even the chair. "I am," I cried. "I am," said I. "And I am lost, and I can't even say why." Leavin' me lonely still.
"I am," I said to no one there and no one heard at all, not even the chair. "I am," I cried. "I am," said I. "And I am lost, and I can't even say why."
Sep. 9th, 2007 | 06:04 pm
It's a pristine, tangible joy that has been lacking in my life since I've graduated. I've found a job that I love. You'll never believe, but it's data entry. Nothing glamorous, I know, but it's the ancillary advantages that have found me literally singing to myself as I drive around LA. For eight hours a day I type in thousands of numbers, rock out on my iPod, break to have lunch in a gorgeous park across the street, and then leave, arriving home before 4:30. It's completely effortless, stress-free, and rarely boring.
Because I'm not fucking exhausted at the day's end, I've been able to spend my mental energy working on my new script. It's been a slow start this time around, but since it took so long for me to complete the last one, I really want to take my time and plan things out before I get to the actual work of writing. It's daunting. I flip through the last one and wonder if I'll ever beat it. I'm excited though. New words on new pages.
All of this combines to keep me in LA, which is relieving. Things have been so unsteady for so long, I'm delighted the universe simply handled my New York/LA decision for me.
Aug. 28th, 2007 | 11:22 pm
Let's just say that I saw the Fish today and yesterday and in the whole scheme of life, a little San Diego sunset and some iced mint hookah is all you could possibly need out of life....
...you know what else I think I might need? A little NYC.