I apologize for my absence. I have been reading thy blogs faithfully; although I do confess that I am having trouble reading and making comments (do not know if this is me or blogger.com at fault). Things are busy beyond belief, so busy that I do not have the time or energy to report of them here. Alas. There are many good stories to report.
We are getting the PR machine rolling and rolling good. Check out this article on Way of the Puck in the Houston Chronicle:
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/life/hoffman/3736440.html
I too shall be going to Texas soon. Texas is a Big Country, yes. Never been to Austin, envious of those literary types who have been playing there. Hm. Richard Linklater's animated adaptation of a Philip K. Dick book is coming out soon. Forget the name of it. "A Scanner Darkly" perhaps? For all those who haven't seen "Waking Life" check it out. "A Scanner Darkly" uses the same technique. Rotoscoped animated footage of live-action DV master..."Waking Life" is wonderful and we have high hopes for the Dick adaptation! All hail Austin, though they rejected me at SXSW, Philistines...
Oh yes, I almost forgot...in the first act of bloggy self-censorship, I've deleted the maudlin "Way of the Quitter" post written during the Dark Times of Way of the Puck's Uncertain Future. I've retained the text on my computer and it will remain available to any and all who request it privately. Unfortunately, it was coming up on Google in the number 3 slot; something e just can't have. The spin doctors would never approve.
Surely you understand.
Keep on bloggin,
The Management
Next week: Scarification v. Tattoos
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Calling All Lurkers
Lately I keep coming across unknown lurking members of the Front Porch readership. I don't think I gave these people the link....either they stumbled across it or they Googled it or I don't know what. There is the old flame who contacted me recently (because someone else's BLOG linked to mine and my website...who could that be?), there're the dudes in New Hampshire who are in the movie who told me they knew about my movie's success because they saw it mentioned on the blog, there's the friend of a friend who reads it (to find out what is going on).
So it seems the Front Porch readership goes beyond the SLC Contingent, which is both interesting and disturbing.
I encourage all lurkers to come forward and say hello, to acknowledge that this is a dialogue and not a monologue. Come off the sidewalk and onto the Porch. Would you rather be invisible or have the power to fly? Fly! We want flyers here, not lurkers. Come forward. Come forward and claim your prize.
So it seems the Front Porch readership goes beyond the SLC Contingent, which is both interesting and disturbing.
I encourage all lurkers to come forward and say hello, to acknowledge that this is a dialogue and not a monologue. Come off the sidewalk and onto the Porch. Would you rather be invisible or have the power to fly? Fly! We want flyers here, not lurkers. Come forward. Come forward and claim your prize.
WOTP To Win Houston Award
Learned today that the movie is guaranteed to win one of the top awards at Houston-Worldfest. Now they've comped my whole trip and stay and festival passes and everything. HA!
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Post-Visit Analysis
After a lovely three nights in SLC I'm back in the rathole again. Salt Lake was spectacular--sunny and snowy and clear and everything this particular burg is not. I had the good fortune to finally meet the esteemed Lisa B and the Historian and Assertively Unhip...and to watch them move through space and inhabit three dimensions and produce one-liners from their mouths without the interface of a computer. Also good to see the Otter Butt herself and Zoe and Strange Polkas and Marsha, and, of course, Mr. Boonasty.
Got a last minute nonstop to LAX, thus avoiding the dreaded transfer in Sin City. Maybe things are turning around!
This is a picture of the Rossman stone cold chillin.
This is a picture of Middlebrow and Sleepy E preparing to do battle. Middlebrow prevailed this time around and shall retake possession of the Golden Woobie for the next year. Sleepy E was more enraged than he cares to admit. The game was his to lose...and he lost.
This is a picture of Dr. Write and Son tromping through the snow near the reservoir. Snow. Snow!
This is a picture of the very innocent Assertively Unhip stone cold tippin at the lanes.
This is a picture of the explosive Mr. Boonasty documenting off-camera knife fights at the lanes. Boonasty's high-velocity bowling makes the powerball of Beefcake look downright wimpy. I have never seen such spectacular pin action. Watch the pins detonate. Detonate! Middlebrow shocks the world with his finessy style points, rolling an evening-high 153. He self-destructs during the second game, getting crushed by Dr. Write and losing the crown to the underachieving Condiment.
This is a picture of Middlebrow and Dr. Write sedated and snuggling.
It's only fitting that on my last night Middlebrow and I wound up (by consensus) at the Salt Lake Roasting Company (and not the bar), sipping tea and talking about bran intake and 401(k)s. Ah, youth.
There was also a piercing Jazz game somewhere in there.
Got a last minute nonstop to LAX, thus avoiding the dreaded transfer in Sin City. Maybe things are turning around!
This is a picture of the Rossman stone cold chillin.
This is a picture of Middlebrow and Sleepy E preparing to do battle. Middlebrow prevailed this time around and shall retake possession of the Golden Woobie for the next year. Sleepy E was more enraged than he cares to admit. The game was his to lose...and he lost.
This is a picture of Dr. Write and Son tromping through the snow near the reservoir. Snow. Snow!
This is a picture of the very innocent Assertively Unhip stone cold tippin at the lanes.
This is a picture of the explosive Mr. Boonasty documenting off-camera knife fights at the lanes. Boonasty's high-velocity bowling makes the powerball of Beefcake look downright wimpy. I have never seen such spectacular pin action. Watch the pins detonate. Detonate! Middlebrow shocks the world with his finessy style points, rolling an evening-high 153. He self-destructs during the second game, getting crushed by Dr. Write and losing the crown to the underachieving Condiment.
This is a picture of Middlebrow and Dr. Write sedated and snuggling.
It's only fitting that on my last night Middlebrow and I wound up (by consensus) at the Salt Lake Roasting Company (and not the bar), sipping tea and talking about bran intake and 401(k)s. Ah, youth.
There was also a piercing Jazz game somewhere in there.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
HIFF
I am pleased to report that Way of the Puck has been accepted into the 2006 Houston International Film Festival--Worldfest. Screening times are TBD but it'll go down near the end of April. This is especially cool since--as you probably already know--Houston is the capital of air hockey and we could get a good strong rowdy turnout there.
Now I have to finish the movie, though, which will be a pain worse than death.
I'll be cutting and recutting and tweaking right up to the end, and this will dominate my life for the next two months solid. Oof. I'm not sure I can get it ready in time but I will try my best.
I've held a grudge against this particular festival for twelve years now. Back in 94 I sent them my student short "the Delivery" and paid the very high entry fee (2-3x as much as everyone else), but never heard back. Nothing. No confirmation or rejection letter, no flyer with the names of winners, nothing. One day my check was cashed, and that is all.
Weird to think that they are the first ones to see any value in my newest movie...and that their endorsement will pave the way for acceptance elsewhere.
Thanks for listening.
Now I have to finish the movie, though, which will be a pain worse than death.
I'll be cutting and recutting and tweaking right up to the end, and this will dominate my life for the next two months solid. Oof. I'm not sure I can get it ready in time but I will try my best.
I've held a grudge against this particular festival for twelve years now. Back in 94 I sent them my student short "the Delivery" and paid the very high entry fee (2-3x as much as everyone else), but never heard back. Nothing. No confirmation or rejection letter, no flyer with the names of winners, nothing. One day my check was cashed, and that is all.
Weird to think that they are the first ones to see any value in my newest movie...and that their endorsement will pave the way for acceptance elsewhere.
Thanks for listening.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Korn on the Kob
This is a picture of Korn.
This is another picture of Korn.
This is a picture of one Korn. Or a cernel. Or a kolonel.
This is a picture of their custom mic stand, sculped by one HR Giger.
This is a picture of HR Giger's inscription, which means it must be true.
This is a picture of Korn-E (Korny), the newest member.
Remember, never overcook your Korn.
This is another picture of Korn.
This is a picture of one Korn. Or a cernel. Or a kolonel.
This is a picture of their custom mic stand, sculped by one HR Giger.
This is a picture of HR Giger's inscription, which means it must be true.
This is a picture of Korn-E (Korny), the newest member.
Remember, never overcook your Korn.
Friday, February 03, 2006
The Further Misadventures of Bait & Switch, Vol. 1
Author's note: The roles of Ms. Bait and Mr. Switch shall be played by the same two actors from episode to episode, using cosmetic disguise to create the illusion of difference in landlords.
Tuesday's Episode: 917 N. Curson #4 West Hollywood, CA
Fade In:
E drives and drives and drives.
E: Damn, I'm getting tired of this. I've been looking for a place for almost a month now. This is a total waste of time. I'm gonna build a yurt...or live in a storage unit, or something.
Thirty minutes later:
E arrives at his destination in leafy, funky Weho. He is pleased that the building is not a rathole and the he is within walking distance to the Tomkat (formerly the Pussycat) Theater. He checks his watch and sees that he is fifteen minutes early, but decides to prowl around anyway. Amazingly, the landlord is already waiting in the vacant apartment. E enters.
Switchman: Hello?
E: Oh, hi. I'm E. I'm here about the apartment.
Switchman: Oh, hello, I'm Mr. Switchman.
E: Switch...man? You're dead ringers for this other guy I know, Mr. Switch.
Switchman: I get a lot of that. Nope, it's Switchman.
E: Hmmm.
E looks around the apartment. He is pleased. The apartment is large and sunny and free of rats.
E: The apartment is big and bright, and the price is right...
Switchman: I've had so many calls on this unit, but you're the first to see it, lucky you!
E: You know, I think I've rented from you before, actually.
Switchman: Oh, really?
E: Yeah, in Los Feliz, on Kingsley.
Switchman: Oh, sure. Now I remember.
E: I was in there for about three years.
Switchman: (smiles) Well, that's a good sign.
E: I remember vividly because you gave me my entire deposit back, and I was..well...how shall I say...IMPRESSED.
E looks at Switchman and looks away.
E: I'll take it.
Switchman: Great, so here's the preliminary paperwork. If you're an independent contractor then we'll need a xeroxed bank statement and tax form from last year and your last few pay stubs. Get a money order for half of the security deposit, fill out the credit check form and call me when you finish and we can meet up again.
E: Okay.
E drives drives drives and handles all this stuff, then drives drives drives back to Weho and meets Switchman at his own pad near Crescent Heights. It is tastefully decorated and pet-free. Switchman looks through E's paperwork.
Switchman: This is great, perfect, so organized, my...They're going to love this.
E: Great.
Switchman: So, I 'll send this in and Ms. Bait will run a credit check on you...which I'm sure you'll pass...
E: My credit is unstoppable.
Switchman: ...And then you can come by and sign the lease.
E: (under) I would do anything for this apartment.
Switchman: Excuse me?
E: Nothing.
The next day:
E wakes up with a feeling of dread in his gut. Something is going awry with the apartment, he knows it.
E: Jesus, what is this feeling I'm having? I feel so moody and out-of-control. If I don't get this apartment I'm going to smash things with my fists. What is this feeling? I know, it's like being in love with one of my erratic ex-girlfriends. Ah, this feeling takes me back to darker times. But I was alive then, so alive! But why am I worried, anyway? It's a shoo-in! An absolute no-brainer--
E's cell phone vibrates.
E: Hello?
Bait: Hi, this is Ms. Bait from B&S Property Management. I have some terrible news...
E: Don't tell me I didn't pass the credit check--
Bait: No, your credit is unstoppable.
E: What then?
Bait: The building is being sold and the new owners want to fill the vacancy themselves.
Pause.
E: Huh? Then, why...
Bait: I don't know, I'm sorry. We just found out.
E: What. Truly?
Bait: Truly, truly!
E: Is there some other reason you don't want to rent to me?
Bait: No, it's not you. It's not you.
E: I spent all yesterday handling all the paperwork.
Bait: I'm so sorry. I didn't want to make this phone call...
Pause.
Bait: We'll send you a check for the amount of the deposit--
E hangs up and goes for a long, knee-pounding run but he is still enraged so goes out to the garage and flattens aluminum cans for forty-five minutes.
Blackout.
Tomorrow: An Unexpected Twist!
Tuesday's Episode: 917 N. Curson #4 West Hollywood, CA
Fade In:
E drives and drives and drives.
E: Damn, I'm getting tired of this. I've been looking for a place for almost a month now. This is a total waste of time. I'm gonna build a yurt...or live in a storage unit, or something.
Thirty minutes later:
E arrives at his destination in leafy, funky Weho. He is pleased that the building is not a rathole and the he is within walking distance to the Tomkat (formerly the Pussycat) Theater. He checks his watch and sees that he is fifteen minutes early, but decides to prowl around anyway. Amazingly, the landlord is already waiting in the vacant apartment. E enters.
Switchman: Hello?
E: Oh, hi. I'm E. I'm here about the apartment.
Switchman: Oh, hello, I'm Mr. Switchman.
E: Switch...man? You're dead ringers for this other guy I know, Mr. Switch.
Switchman: I get a lot of that. Nope, it's Switchman.
E: Hmmm.
E looks around the apartment. He is pleased. The apartment is large and sunny and free of rats.
E: The apartment is big and bright, and the price is right...
Switchman: I've had so many calls on this unit, but you're the first to see it, lucky you!
E: You know, I think I've rented from you before, actually.
Switchman: Oh, really?
E: Yeah, in Los Feliz, on Kingsley.
Switchman: Oh, sure. Now I remember.
E: I was in there for about three years.
Switchman: (smiles) Well, that's a good sign.
E: I remember vividly because you gave me my entire deposit back, and I was..well...how shall I say...IMPRESSED.
E looks at Switchman and looks away.
E: I'll take it.
Switchman: Great, so here's the preliminary paperwork. If you're an independent contractor then we'll need a xeroxed bank statement and tax form from last year and your last few pay stubs. Get a money order for half of the security deposit, fill out the credit check form and call me when you finish and we can meet up again.
E: Okay.
E drives drives drives and handles all this stuff, then drives drives drives back to Weho and meets Switchman at his own pad near Crescent Heights. It is tastefully decorated and pet-free. Switchman looks through E's paperwork.
Switchman: This is great, perfect, so organized, my...They're going to love this.
E: Great.
Switchman: So, I 'll send this in and Ms. Bait will run a credit check on you...which I'm sure you'll pass...
E: My credit is unstoppable.
Switchman: ...And then you can come by and sign the lease.
E: (under) I would do anything for this apartment.
Switchman: Excuse me?
E: Nothing.
The next day:
E wakes up with a feeling of dread in his gut. Something is going awry with the apartment, he knows it.
E: Jesus, what is this feeling I'm having? I feel so moody and out-of-control. If I don't get this apartment I'm going to smash things with my fists. What is this feeling? I know, it's like being in love with one of my erratic ex-girlfriends. Ah, this feeling takes me back to darker times. But I was alive then, so alive! But why am I worried, anyway? It's a shoo-in! An absolute no-brainer--
E's cell phone vibrates.
E: Hello?
Bait: Hi, this is Ms. Bait from B&S Property Management. I have some terrible news...
E: Don't tell me I didn't pass the credit check--
Bait: No, your credit is unstoppable.
E: What then?
Bait: The building is being sold and the new owners want to fill the vacancy themselves.
Pause.
E: Huh? Then, why...
Bait: I don't know, I'm sorry. We just found out.
E: What. Truly?
Bait: Truly, truly!
E: Is there some other reason you don't want to rent to me?
Bait: No, it's not you. It's not you.
E: I spent all yesterday handling all the paperwork.
Bait: I'm so sorry. I didn't want to make this phone call...
Pause.
Bait: We'll send you a check for the amount of the deposit--
E hangs up and goes for a long, knee-pounding run but he is still enraged so goes out to the garage and flattens aluminum cans for forty-five minutes.
Blackout.
Tomorrow: An Unexpected Twist!
Thursday, February 02, 2006
The Further Misadventures of Bait & Switch, Vol. 2
Author's note: The roles of Ms. Bait and Mr. Switch shall be played by the same two actors from episode to episode, using cosmetic disguise to create the illusion of difference in landlords.
Today's episode: 1255 N. Harper Ave. #14 West Hollywood, CA
Fade in:
Sleepy E navigates his car through miserable crosstown traffic.
E: Fuck! Ever since they put in that Target and Best Buy on Santa Monica Blvd everything is awful. Hollywood is awful, Sunset is awful, Fountain is awful till LaBrea, Beverly is awful after Fairfax...
He honks at a nonchalant jaywalker, refusing to slow, nearly colliding.
E: This apartment is in a great location, though. Walking distance to the finest multi-screen arthouse theater in LA, walking distance to shops and bars and a social life. Ah, social life...
E drives and drives and drives.
Thirty minutes later:
E stands in front of the apartment building, waiting, waiting, waiting for the landlord, Ms. Bait, to appear. She does, ten minutes after the scheduled meeting time. Bait guides E to the second-story apartment and unlocks the unit.
E stares.
E: I'm sorry, I thought the ad said this was...six-hundred and...
Bait: Right, 650 square feet.
E: This is not 650 square feet.
Bait: No, it is.
Pause.
E: I'm sorry, but I just don't believe that.
E removes a bright yellow 25-foot Fat Max steel tape from his messenger bag and starts measuring. Bait frowns, displeased.
E: I'm just curious, that's all. It's not that I don't believe you.
E finishes his measurements and tries to do the math in his head. He fails. He writes it down on the back of the fraudulent advert itself.
E: Twenty-eight by fifteen is...420 feet.
Bait: .....
E: That's not 650 feet. That's 420 feet. That's over a 50% exaggeration!
Bait: Well, that's what my husband said it was so that's what I put in the ad.
E's eyeline drifts off the paper and onto the floor below.
E: These are not hardwood floors.
Bait: What do you mean?
E: This is that fake flooring stuff they put down. This is not wood.
Bait: These are hardwood floors.
E sees a tiny nook off to the side with a curtain covering the entrance.
E: Is that the bedroom?
Bait: Mmm-hmm, it's small, but...
E: There's no door even. Shouldn't this be a "junior 1-bedroom" or a "single" or something?
Bait: No, this is a one bedroom.
Pause.
Bait: So, are you still interested?
E: How much is this again?
Bait: $1,200 a month.
E: Is the pool heated?
Bait: No.
Pause.
E: Corpsed.
Blackout.
Yesterdays episode, Vol. 1, forthcoming....
Today's episode: 1255 N. Harper Ave. #14 West Hollywood, CA
Fade in:
Sleepy E navigates his car through miserable crosstown traffic.
E: Fuck! Ever since they put in that Target and Best Buy on Santa Monica Blvd everything is awful. Hollywood is awful, Sunset is awful, Fountain is awful till LaBrea, Beverly is awful after Fairfax...
He honks at a nonchalant jaywalker, refusing to slow, nearly colliding.
E: This apartment is in a great location, though. Walking distance to the finest multi-screen arthouse theater in LA, walking distance to shops and bars and a social life. Ah, social life...
E drives and drives and drives.
Thirty minutes later:
E stands in front of the apartment building, waiting, waiting, waiting for the landlord, Ms. Bait, to appear. She does, ten minutes after the scheduled meeting time. Bait guides E to the second-story apartment and unlocks the unit.
E stares.
E: I'm sorry, I thought the ad said this was...six-hundred and...
Bait: Right, 650 square feet.
E: This is not 650 square feet.
Bait: No, it is.
Pause.
E: I'm sorry, but I just don't believe that.
E removes a bright yellow 25-foot Fat Max steel tape from his messenger bag and starts measuring. Bait frowns, displeased.
E: I'm just curious, that's all. It's not that I don't believe you.
E finishes his measurements and tries to do the math in his head. He fails. He writes it down on the back of the fraudulent advert itself.
E: Twenty-eight by fifteen is...420 feet.
Bait: .....
E: That's not 650 feet. That's 420 feet. That's over a 50% exaggeration!
Bait: Well, that's what my husband said it was so that's what I put in the ad.
E's eyeline drifts off the paper and onto the floor below.
E: These are not hardwood floors.
Bait: What do you mean?
E: This is that fake flooring stuff they put down. This is not wood.
Bait: These are hardwood floors.
E sees a tiny nook off to the side with a curtain covering the entrance.
E: Is that the bedroom?
Bait: Mmm-hmm, it's small, but...
E: There's no door even. Shouldn't this be a "junior 1-bedroom" or a "single" or something?
Bait: No, this is a one bedroom.
Pause.
Bait: So, are you still interested?
E: How much is this again?
Bait: $1,200 a month.
E: Is the pool heated?
Bait: No.
Pause.
E: Corpsed.
Blackout.
Yesterdays episode, Vol. 1, forthcoming....
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Breaking the Silence/Resolutions
I wouldn't say that I'm into New Years Resolutions, necessarily, but I am big on goals. Call me Taskmaster E. Each year, each month, each week gets its to-do list.
So I'm happy to report the very first goal-failure of 2006: Blog Less.
Usually the act of writing a goal down helps to solidify its importance...yet the pull of the blogosphere is mighty like the moon on the tides...I am already sucked back into my 2005ish ways after only two weeks of reticence. (Dr. Write has fared better, I feel...Otter butt also).
Ultimately, it is not the act of blogging that is the problem, but the act of perpetually checking everyone's blog for new comments that squanders my productive hours. Unfortunately, it is difficult to have one without the other. Oh well. Such is life.
But I will blog less when World Cup comes round, tho! I promise!
So I'm happy to report the very first goal-failure of 2006: Blog Less.
Usually the act of writing a goal down helps to solidify its importance...yet the pull of the blogosphere is mighty like the moon on the tides...I am already sucked back into my 2005ish ways after only two weeks of reticence. (Dr. Write has fared better, I feel...Otter butt also).
Ultimately, it is not the act of blogging that is the problem, but the act of perpetually checking everyone's blog for new comments that squanders my productive hours. Unfortunately, it is difficult to have one without the other. Oh well. Such is life.
But I will blog less when World Cup comes round, tho! I promise!
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Epic Comedy
The very first assembly of our new screenplay has weighed in at 172 pages. According to the one-page-of-script-per-minute-of-screen-time rule, this would put the movie at two hours and fifty-two minutes. No worries; we believe this rule is flawed. The actual adjusted screen time would be closer three hours and fifteen minutes. Whew.
Of course we do not intend to deliver a three-hour comedy. We'll cut it down to about 100 pages and all of this preliminary length is more about fleshing out characters, writing wildly, nonediting, just like in the Novel Writing Month of yore.
But it got me thinking about how sadistic it would be to film a three-hour comedy. And it got me wondering about long comedies in general and if any actually exist. I can't think of any comedies--actual comedies, not dramas with comedic elements--that roll in over the 2-hour mark. Even the much-maligned Ishtar (very very underrated, quite hilarious actually) is only 1 hr 47 minutes, even though everyone felt it was a two and a half hour stick in the mud.
What is the longest comedy you've seen? Lisa B?
Does something happen to our brains after 90 minutes of laughing?
Of course we do not intend to deliver a three-hour comedy. We'll cut it down to about 100 pages and all of this preliminary length is more about fleshing out characters, writing wildly, nonediting, just like in the Novel Writing Month of yore.
But it got me thinking about how sadistic it would be to film a three-hour comedy. And it got me wondering about long comedies in general and if any actually exist. I can't think of any comedies--actual comedies, not dramas with comedic elements--that roll in over the 2-hour mark. Even the much-maligned Ishtar (very very underrated, quite hilarious actually) is only 1 hr 47 minutes, even though everyone felt it was a two and a half hour stick in the mud.
What is the longest comedy you've seen? Lisa B?
Does something happen to our brains after 90 minutes of laughing?
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Nap
I like to nap when I am in writing mode. This gives me two productive sessions in one day: a morning session and an evening session. On these days off I usually get up around 7am, then nap from 4pm to 5pm, then stay up till about 1am before crashing out. This divides the day neatly in half--for what it's worth--into daytime and nighttime.
I've always harbored a lot of guilt about napping, especially when it's calculated (as it is lately) and when it's serious, PJ-wearin'-under-the-covers nappin. My naps do not last twenty minutes. They would last for at least two hours if I abandoned the use of alarms and woke up when my body felt like it.
Does this mean my body is not getting enough sleep? Or does this mean it just digs the nappin? Regardless of whether I sleep four hours a night, or six hours, or eight hours, or ten...an hour never feels like enough in the afternoon.
An old girlfriend used to tell me her favorite thing in the world was sleeping. I remember this vividly, because I recall being quite a dick about it, mocking the notion that the "temporary nonexistence" of sleep could be anyone's favorite activity. I think I said she had a "dormancy fetish" or something like that.
But now I understand. Sleep is sweet, especially in the afternoon, especially when everyone is still toiling in the world.
Of course, all of this means I am becoming my father, but that is another story.
I've always harbored a lot of guilt about napping, especially when it's calculated (as it is lately) and when it's serious, PJ-wearin'-under-the-covers nappin. My naps do not last twenty minutes. They would last for at least two hours if I abandoned the use of alarms and woke up when my body felt like it.
Does this mean my body is not getting enough sleep? Or does this mean it just digs the nappin? Regardless of whether I sleep four hours a night, or six hours, or eight hours, or ten...an hour never feels like enough in the afternoon.
An old girlfriend used to tell me her favorite thing in the world was sleeping. I remember this vividly, because I recall being quite a dick about it, mocking the notion that the "temporary nonexistence" of sleep could be anyone's favorite activity. I think I said she had a "dormancy fetish" or something like that.
But now I understand. Sleep is sweet, especially in the afternoon, especially when everyone is still toiling in the world.
Of course, all of this means I am becoming my father, but that is another story.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Do Not Be A Fool Who's Pre-ju-dice!
We were filming downtown today and big Buick drove past, blaring Run-DMC's "It's Like That," which was one of the singles off their very first record (1983?). I shocked everyone by reciting most of the lyrics. "It's Like That" was one of the songs preferred for lunchtime breakin' battles with Shawn Cromenant ("The Cosmonaut") and Don George. Cromenant was half-Asian and Don George was Native American and they were both thugs, multicultural breakdancin' thugs. They struck terror into our lily white hearts and I shall never forget the Cosmonaut doing some weird and sinister Pop-Locking, advancing on me slowly while the middle school watched and "It's Like That" blared from his stolen ghetto blaster.
I knew "It's Like That" before I even knew who Run-DMC was. Along with Afrika Bambaataa's "Planet Rock," Grandmaster Flash's "White Lines," and "Jam on It" by Nucleus.
I also know "Sucker MCs" by heart and the entire Public Enemy album "It Takes a Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back," which I listened to every day for about 2 years (and wore out 3 cassettes in the process).
Sometimes I wish I could delete those memory files and free up some space on the ole gray hard drive (for names, perhaps, or birthdays, or anything C-Span related). I would like to release the PE lyrics into the ether, but the Run-DMC lyrics should stay and stay forever.
Here's another point in life you should not miss
Do not be a fool who's prejudice
Because we're all written down on the same list
It's like that (what?) and that's the way it is
Huh!
Peace to JMJ!
I knew "It's Like That" before I even knew who Run-DMC was. Along with Afrika Bambaataa's "Planet Rock," Grandmaster Flash's "White Lines," and "Jam on It" by Nucleus.
I also know "Sucker MCs" by heart and the entire Public Enemy album "It Takes a Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back," which I listened to every day for about 2 years (and wore out 3 cassettes in the process).
Sometimes I wish I could delete those memory files and free up some space on the ole gray hard drive (for names, perhaps, or birthdays, or anything C-Span related). I would like to release the PE lyrics into the ether, but the Run-DMC lyrics should stay and stay forever.
Here's another point in life you should not miss
Do not be a fool who's prejudice
Because we're all written down on the same list
It's like that (what?) and that's the way it is
Huh!
Peace to JMJ!
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Cooperative Screenwriting
My friend Michael and I are finishing up the first draft of our screenplay, The Secret Unbelievable.
My history with screenwriting (and cooperation itself) is tumultuous. I swore off screenwriting about four years ago. Screenwriting is horrible and pointless. It is not even writing. It is something other than writing. It is making up dialogue and wacky scenes. It is following a formula. And, in the end, your script means nothing unless it gets produced. It cannot stand on its own. It is a non-work. It is a "blueprint," as they like to say. And it requires little mastery of English or Engish grammar, which is probably why there are so many people working on scripts whenever I go to the Insomnia Cafe or the 101 Cafe. Screenwriting is unsatisfying. I have written ten scripts and they are all bad. I wish they were dead.
Cooperation is also kind of a problem, especially on the writing front. I learned by age 20 that writing partnerships never ever work and that one should forge ahead on his own (in writing and in life). Writing partnerships are like fucked-up marriages: In the end nobody gets what they want and everybody is frustrated and resentful and passive aggressive and withdrawn. People expect things from other people when they enter these partnerships. One cannot not expect things. But people by their very nature are flaky. People will let you down in the end. It is written. And so we become victims of our own expectation. Buddha would say that pain is caused by the frustration of desire (or your writing partner flaking out on you). And so on, and so on.
That is why I am startled to report that the current writing project is going like gangbusters. We are producing incredible work at incredible speed. We are geniuses. The script is hilarious and moving and smart and kind of sad too. It is everything. It is Total Script. This sounds completely farfetched, but I have no doubt that Michael and I will be shooting and directing this film in China in the next couple of years.
This is how good it is. And it is so effortless and easy, how strange!
And I hope everyone here understands how much I hate everything I work on so when I say something is actually good, well...
So there you go. Is it this particular writing partnership? Is it the particular story? What is fueling this unexpected productivity? I am still waiting for the meltdown to occur--but so far it hasn't...
Part of me thinks this script could only be written at this particular point in time under these particular circumstances. I am only able to succeed at this project because of the ten awful scripts that came before it. I am only able to enter into a partnership because of the long time off in between. This project could never have happened before now and the window might close soon.
But for now all of the ingredients are in place.
I realize I am tempting fate with all of this gloating. Must hit "publish post" before I have second thoughts...
My history with screenwriting (and cooperation itself) is tumultuous. I swore off screenwriting about four years ago. Screenwriting is horrible and pointless. It is not even writing. It is something other than writing. It is making up dialogue and wacky scenes. It is following a formula. And, in the end, your script means nothing unless it gets produced. It cannot stand on its own. It is a non-work. It is a "blueprint," as they like to say. And it requires little mastery of English or Engish grammar, which is probably why there are so many people working on scripts whenever I go to the Insomnia Cafe or the 101 Cafe. Screenwriting is unsatisfying. I have written ten scripts and they are all bad. I wish they were dead.
Cooperation is also kind of a problem, especially on the writing front. I learned by age 20 that writing partnerships never ever work and that one should forge ahead on his own (in writing and in life). Writing partnerships are like fucked-up marriages: In the end nobody gets what they want and everybody is frustrated and resentful and passive aggressive and withdrawn. People expect things from other people when they enter these partnerships. One cannot not expect things. But people by their very nature are flaky. People will let you down in the end. It is written. And so we become victims of our own expectation. Buddha would say that pain is caused by the frustration of desire (or your writing partner flaking out on you). And so on, and so on.
That is why I am startled to report that the current writing project is going like gangbusters. We are producing incredible work at incredible speed. We are geniuses. The script is hilarious and moving and smart and kind of sad too. It is everything. It is Total Script. This sounds completely farfetched, but I have no doubt that Michael and I will be shooting and directing this film in China in the next couple of years.
This is how good it is. And it is so effortless and easy, how strange!
And I hope everyone here understands how much I hate everything I work on so when I say something is actually good, well...
So there you go. Is it this particular writing partnership? Is it the particular story? What is fueling this unexpected productivity? I am still waiting for the meltdown to occur--but so far it hasn't...
Part of me thinks this script could only be written at this particular point in time under these particular circumstances. I am only able to succeed at this project because of the ten awful scripts that came before it. I am only able to enter into a partnership because of the long time off in between. This project could never have happened before now and the window might close soon.
But for now all of the ingredients are in place.
I realize I am tempting fate with all of this gloating. Must hit "publish post" before I have second thoughts...
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Taiwan Keywords
High Intensity
No Tourist Infrastructure
Scooters!
Clean Wide-Boulevarded Taipei
Karaoke Miscue!
Kanji Game
Lost Or Just Wandering Around: You Decide
Seafood
Laid Back Locals
Tallest Building In the World
Menu Decoding
Accident-free Traffic Insanity
Genki Cab Drivers
Sidewalk-free Walking
Chinese Medicinal Foods
Jade Shopping
Tea Shopping
Shopping Shopping
Dinner Theater (Evening Storytime)
Train Disembarkation Plan
Train Disembarkation Debacle!
Where Is the Eighth Bag?
Nobody Listens To Me
Safe (and not-so-safe) Walking
Unreliable Travel Books
Bamboo Street: True or False?
Wrong Exit!
Free Umbrella!
Bathroom?
English Menu?
Internet?
Taiwan's 2nd Language: Japanese
See You At the Hotel
Snake Alley!
Afternoon Naps
Temple OD
Here There Are No Taxis! Go There!
Walking walking walking
Starbucks: Grande Hot Coffee, One, Stay Here
No Tourist Infrastructure
Scooters!
Clean Wide-Boulevarded Taipei
Karaoke Miscue!
Kanji Game
Lost Or Just Wandering Around: You Decide
Seafood
Laid Back Locals
Tallest Building In the World
Menu Decoding
Accident-free Traffic Insanity
Genki Cab Drivers
Sidewalk-free Walking
Chinese Medicinal Foods
Jade Shopping
Tea Shopping
Shopping Shopping
Dinner Theater (Evening Storytime)
Train Disembarkation Plan
Train Disembarkation Debacle!
Where Is the Eighth Bag?
Nobody Listens To Me
Safe (and not-so-safe) Walking
Unreliable Travel Books
Bamboo Street: True or False?
Wrong Exit!
Free Umbrella!
Bathroom?
English Menu?
Internet?
Taiwan's 2nd Language: Japanese
See You At the Hotel
Snake Alley!
Afternoon Naps
Temple OD
Here There Are No Taxis! Go There!
Walking walking walking
Starbucks: Grande Hot Coffee, One, Stay Here
Friday, January 06, 2006
One Country, Two Systems: Images From Hong Kong
They say that Bangladesh has the highest population density on Earth, but it probably doesn't get the tourist influx during the holidays that Hong Kong does. Hong Kong isn't even a country or a city-state anymore; I don't know what it is. It was very very dense and very very fun. In certain busier parts of Kowloon police would barricade crosswalks with long ropes, then open the floodgates when the lights turned green and let the mass of humanity spill into the street. It looked like the start of a marathon, repeated every few minutes.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Pictures From Macau
Here are some pictures from the former Portuguese colony of Macau. Macau reverted back to the Chinese back in 1998 (I think), but it still has its own unit of currency (the pataca) and they put a stamp in my passport, so I'm not sure what this means. Macau is vastly underrated; it is most beautiful in the morning when the tourists are asleep and when the quiet, curious blend of Europe and Asia is allowed to surface. It is not just a gambling den.
I am starting work on a collection of linked stories called "Second Cities" and Macau will feature in one called "The Impostor."
I am starting work on a collection of linked stories called "Second Cities" and Macau will feature in one called "The Impostor."
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Holiday Greetings From the ROK
Hello everyone. I just have a couple of seconds to post these pictures from the Korean portion of holiday travel. It was cool to revisit my old town of Pusan although I didn't manage to connect with any of my old friends. Korea is very cold in the winter. I nearly forgot.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Strange Human Behavior
People who press on an illuminated button (elevator, crosswalk, etc) over and over and over, incessantly, as if that will cause the anticipated event to occur sooner.
People who get visibly and audibly irritated when the person directly in front of them in a long line (at the bank, at the airport) leaves a three- or four-foot gap between them and person in front of them. The actual number in the queue hasn’t changed—there are still the same amount of clicks from the front of the line—but this gap fills the hindmost person with rage. It destroys their illusion of forward movement, and amplifies the non-relationship between physical proximity and one’s position in line. Grrr.
People who think that supermarket parking lots are large square versions of Bourbon Street, where one can loaf around wherever they want, with impunity, while large vehicles with crushing power wait patiently for them to clear out of the way. Parking lots are for pedestrians, these people think, until they get in their cars and swear at the loafers shoving their shopping carts right down the center of things. Somehow they fail to make the connection.
People who eat entire boxes of Dr. Write's homemade cookies in a twelve-hour span. They were lovely and now they are gone. Those caramel chocolate chunk bar things were the devil's business...I love the neat box and the cute packaging too, well done!
People who get visibly and audibly irritated when the person directly in front of them in a long line (at the bank, at the airport) leaves a three- or four-foot gap between them and person in front of them. The actual number in the queue hasn’t changed—there are still the same amount of clicks from the front of the line—but this gap fills the hindmost person with rage. It destroys their illusion of forward movement, and amplifies the non-relationship between physical proximity and one’s position in line. Grrr.
People who think that supermarket parking lots are large square versions of Bourbon Street, where one can loaf around wherever they want, with impunity, while large vehicles with crushing power wait patiently for them to clear out of the way. Parking lots are for pedestrians, these people think, until they get in their cars and swear at the loafers shoving their shopping carts right down the center of things. Somehow they fail to make the connection.
People who eat entire boxes of Dr. Write's homemade cookies in a twelve-hour span. They were lovely and now they are gone. Those caramel chocolate chunk bar things were the devil's business...I love the neat box and the cute packaging too, well done!
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Sometimes I Enjoy My Job Very Much
Here are some pictures from the roof of the Bonaventure Hotel downtown (4th between Flower and Fig). We were thirty-six stories up, doing time lapse for a Japanese Mazda commerical. You could see all the way to the Vincent Thomas bridge in San Pedro.
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