Payday, Broke, Payday, Broke

Malice is doing fucking awful keeping the bills paid on time. And I was doing so well for a stretch. It's disheartening because every payday is a reminder of how much I depend on this day job. It is fucking murder trying to get ahead.

Debt kills me. It adds up. It haunts you. You're out of work for a month or two -- years ago -- and those costs stick around. I'm not talking about going out and splurging. Not going out, not doing anything, just standing in one place for a month in this city is expensive.

You know what I want? Money. Success and money. The artistic aspect is a dream I've had and worked at since childhood. The money aspect is something I picked up post-college. I just want enough of it to not have to think about it all the time. To not have to think about what I can order at a restaurant or how many drinks I can have at a bar.

Please! Somebody! Pay me! Malice needs to get paid!

Malice Rising

People. What are you doing to me? Everything was going so well. I was about to change the name of this blog to "Cautiously-Tolerating-Others Central". And that's when the a-bombs started to drop.

Is it some sort of conspiracy? A group gag?

What are the most annoying things we can do to Malice? What would really make him puke? Let's think outside the box...

Well, I refuse to take the bait. Sorry to spoil your fun.

Let's move on. Please turn to page 42 in your blue binders... "How to Fake Being a Trustworthy Person"...

Adorable Grief

Sandra... we regret to inform you that your whole family died in a tragic car accident on Sunday... but we've packed their ashes into this gigantic teddy bear, so you can hug them for ever and ever and ever and ever and...

Chinadoll Overdrive: Draft Complete

Another one down. I know I'm slow. I know I've been known to procrastinate. But the point is that things get finished eventually, right?

I finished writing the first draft of "CHINADOLL OVERDRIVE" tonight. The curious follow-up to "THE BUTCHERHOUSE CHRONICLES".

I started writing CHINADOLL OVERDRIVE years ago. If you want to count the shorter, preliminary versions of the piece ("Guys & Dolls" and "CD2K"), I started writing it 6 years ago. For most of that time, it's been wallowing in the mud of my procrastination.

I'm certain it's in no shape that I'd show to anyone yet. It's hot out of my printer and sitting on my mattress right now. I just hope it's not so bad that it'll make me want to completely gut it. I can't believe how much I wrote this weekend.

It's been a good year for getting writing done. Two TV pilots and now this play. I've just got to keep the pace going. Keep focused. I was afraid I wasn't going to get this done before SPF hit and I was already revising my time estimates... but the first draft's done and tomorrow's the first day of my SPF BUTCHERHOUSE rehearsals.

Maybe I'll treat myself to tonight's "DEADWOOD"...

The Hate Spiral

Been lethargically, reluctantly emptying out all the things I've DVR-ed over the past x weeks. All the shit I've dragged my feet on watching.

Silent Running: watched it. Heartbeeps: watched it.

But what's the worst thing I've subjected myself to...?

Picture DANE COOK *and* BRETT RATNER on JIMMY KIMMEL LIVE. Not bad enough? For some reason, the picture was fucked up and the screen was horizontally-shifted, so the right side of the frame was on the left and the left on the right, with a big black bar smack down the middle. It was like the perfect storm of pop/hack hatred.

Why did I watch this? Because I want to understand. Some tastes are acquired. So many people love Dane Cook -- they can't ALL be fucking idiots, can they...?

I'm sorry. I know some of you may *like* Dane Cook, and I'll begrudgingly give you a pass. But this schmuck is painfully un-fucking-funny. Dane Cook is anti-funny. He kills comedy dead. He's like a comedy fumigator; his presence fills up a room and destroys anything that might be funny. Dane Cook is the death of laughter.

It's frat boy comedy. He calls his fans his "friends" and the audience shits its collective pants. Jimmy Kimmel (bless his heart) calls him on it and says that he just calls them that because they signed up to be his "friend" on MYSPACE. However, this just turns out to be a setup for a lame bit where Cook runs up to the crowd and spouts out horribly unfunny factoids about various members of the audience.

Well, Malice, he doesn't really have traditional jokes, it's kind of the way he says things that's funny...

I'm sorry. I really am. It's just not funny. Not in the faintest way. Chris Rock is fucking funny. Dane Cook -- from everything I've seen -- is fucking garbage. He can high-five me, take me out for drinks, make me the best man at his wedding: I'm still not laughing. I'm not looking for a friend in a comedian. I'm looking for someone who can make me laugh. Call me old-school.

Herewith, I extend a Misanthropy Central middle-finger to Dane Cook. (Because one finger is all you deserve.) Go ahead and date rape your fans; maybe they're asking for it.

I Love to Love You, Baby

With the help of GOOGLE, you never have to be alone on a Saturday night...

What will they think of next...?

[I don't think that first link is too far-fetched...]

Summer Storm

I failed to remark on the first day of summer yesterday...

[*koff*]

...

New York City has some of the shittiest summers on the planet.

There, I said it. Malice doesn't like the summer. So, crucify me. The thick, humid air, the disgusting subways, work clothes drenched in sweat. My work clothes are shitty enough, they gotta be drenched in sweat? FUCK YOU, SUMMER. Why don't you go get fucked? I mean it. Get out. Pack your bags and beat it. And I want my cd's back, you heat-seeking whore...

Wait, wait, wait... okay, I'm sorry. It's not you, it's the job. It's gettin' to me, baby. I didn't mean to take it out on you. Come back here, let's talk this out. I know I said some bad things, but we're gonna be together we may as well make the best of things, right? What say you and me do something this weekend? Something nice...

Super Doll Parts

I am spending way too much time on this website this morning. I ought really save this for home, but I can't stop clicking...

(Wish the site were faster.)

Hey, does everyone here know that I've got a show going up in a few weeks? It features Anna Chlumsky, of Anna Chlumsky fame. And it's a fuckin horror show, motherfuckers!

Mere days away from rehearsals. Everybody on Team Butcherhouse seems sooo cool. It's going to be a challenge, but we are going to have such a good time. It'll be so depressing when it's all over, I may have to kill myself. (HA HA!)

Stop -- STOP IT! Trust me, it'll be YEARS before I kill myself! Enjoy my company while I'm here. (If "enjoy" is the word you want to use...)

Oh my god, what's that? What *is* that? Don't you hear it? Is that the sound of Malice losing his fuckin' mind? (It's like a thin, whistling sound...)

I can't believe it's only Wednesday. (I hate typing "Wednesday" because it forces me to type the word "wed"; and by pointing that out, I've had to type it two additional times. CURSE MY FINGERS.)

END THIS WORK WEEK. I COMMAND YOU.

The Church of Sipowicz

Newop tipped me off about this podcast interview with Deadwood creator David Milch. He sounds like Sipowicz!

To get the interview, open iTunes and go to

Advanced > Subscribe to Podcast

and then paste in the url below:

http://www.studio360.org/index.xml

By the way -- you're welcome.

Smugintosh

Don't you love mac people?

The Heart is Deceitful

Called my pop yesterday, for an obligatory (estranged) father's day greeting. I don't remember the last time I actually spoke with him on the phone. For some reason, he asked me about my heart. A number of years ago, I started getting these random heart palpitations. It's not too uncommon. When it first started, I was freaked out by them, but I learned how to control them. I've been getting them a bit more recently, but I figure it's the heat and the slight bump in exercise. But I lied to my dad and said I haven't had any. What's the point of raising concern?
+.+.+.
What's the threat in saying "I love you" to someone? The heart is deceitful. What's the power in a string of words? There are a lot of things a person can say without meaning. Even if I'm looking you dead in the eyes. Especially.
+.+.+.
I miss prose. I try to incorporate it into the dialogue of scripts as much as I can, but it's not the same. It's partly the reason I juggle so many blogs. (As much of a joke as it's become to keep a blog.) But a blog is not a story -- not in a traditional sense -- and this one certainly isn't prose. At least, not the prose I miss writing.
+.+.+.
And what if you say something to someone with complete sincerity in your heart? Unless you specify a timeframe (i.e., "forever" or "for the next three days"), isn't it implied that you mean "for now"? Right now, in this moment, with no future promises.

"I hate you."

"I need you."

"I wish you were dead."
+.+.+.
I bought a new bag on Friday. I have a new bag.

Dane Cook is for Suckers

There, I said it.

The more I see of the "comic", the less I care. He doesn't strike me as a bad comic; he strikes me as a thoroughly mediocre one. Who just grooms this cult of his as if they're the special ones who "get it". Get what?

Get suckered.

But don't take my word for it... some reviews of his new HBO docu-series, Tourgasm:


Variety:

Those who have yet to be absorbed into the cult of Dane Cook fans will likely be left mystified as to his appeal upon viewing this tedious comics-on-tour reality show -- a half-hour vanity project that proves HBO can not only be TV, but bad TV at that. A popular comic, Cook and a trio of his chums crisscross the country by bus, bonding and showcasing snippets of their stand-up acts. Any further resemblance between this and a series is purely coincidental. HBO has made a substantial investment in Cook, signing him to a multifaceted deal that includes not just "Tourgasm" but also a concert film and plans for a scripted series. Those subsequent projects might showcase him in a more flattering light, but talk about putting a worst foot forward.

The Hollywood Reporter:

Dane Cook is the comedy world's flavor of the month, and anyone older than 25 who watches him perform in "Dane Cook's Tourgasm" is bound to scratch his or her head in befuddlement as to why this is so. He seems to be a cool enough guy, he's quick, he's good looking, and you'd want to hang with him tipping a few brewskies. But he isn't funny. … This might be seen a problem if you're a stand-up comic, given that it's about making people laugh and all. Except that in Cook's case, it doesn't much matter. He has tapped into the youth market and captured the college-age (and younger) crowd by peddling himself as comedy's version of a rock idol, self-packaged on the Internet via MySpace and other Web sites as the very essence of hard-core hip. He is a savvy businessman first and a comedian second, and in the age of quick-cut entertainment and style over substance, you don't need actual charisma so much as the popular perception of it.

The Washington Post says:

... the show's format - inviting us along on a bus tour of college campuses by Cook and three other young comedians - is off-putting from the outset, largely because comedians are among the most self-absorbed and self-fascinated creatures on the planet; monkeys in front of mirrors who seem never to tire of making allegedly funny faces. … If the prospect of accompanying comedians on a comedy bus does have a certain allure, don't get too excited. At any moment the group might hop on a private jet and fly from, say, Bozeman, Mont., to New Orleans (pre-Katrina, or so it appears). We are also given access to the questionable treat of watching comics hone raw remarks into jokes; one of them tries to find humor in such observations as: "You know what I hate about grapefruit? It ruins a fruit salad." … Hmm. Seems like a little more honing might be in order

Entertainment Weekly (gives it a “C”):

This series is for those of you who wondered what it would be like to put four frat boy-esque comedians on a bus for a 30-day comedy tour across America. The answer? Toilet humor, homophobic jokes, and a serious fight about (what else?) porn.

The Los Angeles Times:

...certain to excite the young fans who sent his "Retaliation" CD soaring up the charts and leave everyone else behind. If you're among the stranded, it isn't you — or wait, sorry, I'm afraid it is: Cook is as bulletproof among fans as he is unspectacular to anyone who's watched much comedy in the previous two decades. You should double-check this, but I think HBO once broke emerging comics as artists, not as audience-pleasers who were destined to please the next audience.

The Boston Globe:

Whenever there is a clash, Cook jumps in as a peacekeeper, in case we didn't already know he's a nice guy. ``We've got to be the glue for each other," he tells the viewers. But in trying to make the bus melodramas seem important, Cook stretches too far. This is a cross-country tour, something most performers have experienced, and there's nothing particularly special about it. Cook pretends that the bus dynamics are TV gold, but you can feel him straining to be convincing.

David Cross (in an open letter to Larry The Cable Guy):

I can't stand that fan ass kissing bullshit. You and Dane Cook ought to get together and have a "my-fan's-are-the-greatest-people-on-earth-and-that's-why-I-do-this" off. You could both sell a shit load of merch too.

For Immediate Release

Note to all moms, from your government:

Get out those fuckin' breasts!

Stab City

There've been a series of stabbings in/near subway stations recently. Three in the past 24 hours. All along the route I take to work.

I've been based in this city for more than a decade now. Never been mugged. Friends have been mugged. I know people who've been mugged A LOT. I imagine it's chance. Doesn't matter what you look like or how you carry yourself, it comes down to timing and chance (like every other thing in this fucking world).

Still -- it's my route to bloody work!

Somebody sort this out before I have to write another blog entry about it. Consider this fair warning, Gotham.

Just Used

Okay, I know how to swipe a fucking Metrocard! I've been swiping the dang things since they were introduced to this ding dang dong city years ago! But for some reason, I've been having trouble swiping mine recently.

"SWIPE AGAIN AT THIS TURNSTILE"

"SWIPE AGAIN AT THIS TURNSTILE"

"TOO FAST, SWIPE AGAIN"

"SWIPE AGAIN AT THIS TURNSTILE"

"JUST USED -- FUCK YOUR MOTHER"

Swipe it fast. Swipe it faster. Too fast, swipe it slower.

Technology is turning on me...

Parched

Monday mourning is always vulgar. I want to go home. Let me go home...!

Less talk. Let me link you up.

This is someone's food blog I stumbled on.

Feminism can be kinda hot...

A Beautiful Day for Blogging!

For anyone who gives shits, I updated my unpopular recipe blog with three new entries. I'd been meaning to put those on there for a while, just for my own future reference.

As is par for the course, I'm alternately loving and hating the play I'm currently writing. Times I think it's brilliant, times I think it's tripe. But I'm making progress and I know that if I really applied myself, I could have it done sooner rather than later. But then I'd have less of an excuse to hide from the world all day...!

Christ, I wish it were raining instead of fucking gorgeous outside...

Primer Movie

Again, I don't like to use this blog to review movies too often, but I don't often feel compelled to watch a movie three times within 24 hours.

Who recommended "Primer" to me? Which one of you was it?? Why did I put it on my Netflix queue? When did I put it on my Netflix queue?

I have no idea. There are hundreds of movies in my queue and I'm always fussing around with the order so that I can get what I want to get when I want to get it. That said, I received "Primer" yesterday and couldn't remember what it was or why I wanted to see it...

It's a first film, from this guy who had never acted, produced, written a screenplay, composed a score or directed before -- but he did all these things here. He was an engineer and he was dissatisfied with what he was doing and he schooled himself on all aspects of filmmaking, and the motherfucker made himself this film that I found uniquely rivetting.

Caveat. It is an icy film. I have a predilection for icy films. Kubrick, Cronenberg, Haynes, LaBute, Solondz. Films where the audience maintains some distance from the characters. But when you maintain some distance from the characters, I think you can study them better.

It is fiercely economical. Arguably, to a fault. One of the reasons I've now watched it three times is because I wanted to get a better sense of what was happening. It gets very complicated and perhaps unnecessarily so. Running a scant 78 minutes, I think it could have added a minute or two worth of footage just to clarify certain plot points (without beating the audience over the head). But he made it for $7K. Shot on Super 16, edited on his home computer and had it blown up to 35. He only shot one take of most things and didn't shoot much coverage. It was economical by necessity. It's a miracle he managed to create something with any coherency...

It's a story about a couple of engineers who accidentally build a time machine. It's been described as an "intellectual thriller". What I found so fascinating is that it takes this fantastical idea (the "time travelling" conceit), and it treats it seriously and realistically. From an engineer's standpoint. It deals with the horror of innovation. Creating something you don't quite fully grasp, and then exploring it.

The performances are realistically deadpan. (Not "Mamet" deadpan.) These aren't terribly charismatic men. They're no Christopher Lloyd and Michael J. Fox. And the machine doesn't look like a sexed up De Lorean. The machine is a prototype and prototypes aren't sexy. They're practical. And the men are just two engineers who stumbled on this invention while trying to invent something else. Their concerns are practical concerns.

I can see how this movie might make some people nod off, but I found it absolutely fascinating. At times, it feels like a documentary. It made me believe in time travel in a completely different way. It may not be perfect, but many of my favorite films are imperfect. As many films as I watch, there are a lot that I miss, and I am thankful that I managed to catch this little gem. And that's Malice's PICK OF THE WEEK!

Can I Get an Encore? Do You Want More?

Where does he get those wonderful pizzas?!

Hit Parader

The skies are vast and unsullied and I can see for miles.

Bastard Pop

I've been listening to "Numb / Encore" over and over again. It's the Jay Z / Linkin Park smashup that's featured prominently in the Miami Vice trailer. I really like how it's used in those trailers. I think it's so cool.

I told a friend that music inspires my writing. He looked at me quizzically and asked, "You mean, like, the lyrics?" But it's not just the lyrics. Many times, it's in spite of the lyrics. Music can create a mood. The reason they're used in these big movie trailers is that they can establish feelings immediately.

Some songs establish vengeance. Some establish vulnerability. Some are just flat-out cocky. So when I say I'm inspired by music, I try to evoke certain moods without the assistance of the music.

Fucking christ, I'm hungover today. It is torture to type.

All Sixes

I've become so numb!
I can't feel you there!
I've become so tired!
So much more aware!

I can't believe in the things
That don't believe in me
Now it's your turn
to see MISANTHROPY...

Number of the beast, suckas!

Anybody believe in Numerology? Let Malice school you on some number definitions:

0. Everything and nothing. The All

1. Individual. Aggressor (positive enforcer as opposed to negative receptive). Yang.

2. Balance. Union. Receptive. Yin.

3. Communication/interaction. Neutrality.

4. Creation.

5. Action.

6. Reaction/flux. Responsibility.

7. Thought/consciousness.

8. Power/sacrifice.

9. Completion.

10. Rebirth.

So, now you know... and knowing is half the battle!

War Chronicles

Thought July was forever way, but now it feels like it's closing in like a heat-seeking missile. (Hopefully not a bomb...)

How about that Sopranos finale...?

Lousy weekend for progress. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

There is so much I need to get done this month. Hopefully it's not for nothin.

It's going to be a lean month. I'll need to live off the hors d'oeuvres at the cocktail parties I go to.

There's about to be this huge upheaval at work. I really wish I didn't have to deal with it this month, but there isn't much I can do except suffer the effects. I'm not going to win any awards for Employee of the Month.

There's a lot going on but not a great many things I can confirm yet. I just wish I didn't have to waste 40 hours at work this week.

A Shrine to Carrie Ann Inaba

This is Misanthropy Central's 666th entry (in case you've lost count), and to mark the occasion I'd like to declare my love for former In Living Color Fly-Girl Carrie Ann Inaba.

"Hey, Malice!!! You've never met the woman and you've only barely skimmed her surprisingly robust Wikipedia entry! Are you certain it's love?"

Yes, Billy. I know what love is. This is love. A true, pure, unsullied love. The kind of love that can only be established by seeing a 2-second close-up shot of a girl on television when you're 14. And then rewatching a rerun of that same show when you're 30, and remembering the girl, and then looking her up on the internet for more information.

"But Malice!!! Couldn't you be confusing love with lonely, desperate, pathetic lust?!"

No, Billy, this love is real. Wanna know how I know? Because the internet tells me she's a scant 5 years older than me, which means we'd be perfect together. Do you know how rare it is to have a childhood crush on a celebrity and still be able to have a relationship with that celebrity when you're an adult without the age disparity being alarming?

"Malice!!! Even if you honestly 'love' this Carrie Ann Inaba, don't you think you've written too many blog entries this weekend?! Supply is already exceeding demand by a fairly large margin!!! Don't you have more important things to do?!?!?"

Billy... this is important. It's important to me. Now stop looking at me that way. You're creeping me the fuck out, kid...


"..."

Color Me Badd

What was Malice doing watching BET tonight? Well, kiddies, it's that magical time of year when all of the TV shows Malice watches have run their course and Malice is so desperately in need of television companionship that he starts checking out all the other channels he gets. And thus, tonight, Malice re-discovered "In Living Color".

How I loved this show. The first 2-3 seasons were brilliant. (I remember it abruptly getting absolutely unwatchable, but go back to 1-3...) "Chappelle Show" mos def took some cues from it. David Alan Grier was amazing. "James" Carey is like a little kid set free. They all look like kids performing their hearts out and having fun. A hilarious sketch cuts to a Fly Girls sequence that I actually enjoy watching... those girls were white hot shit...

I'm reminded that I had the worst crush on the Asian Fly Girl, Carrie Ann Inaba (thank you, Wikipedia!). I was always a bit disappointed that most of the Fly Girl sequences were wide-shots so you didn't get prolonged looks at the girls faces...

(Thank you, Google Images!)
Malice loses his train of thought for a moment...

It was even great to watch the end credits. Sometimes they'd bring on a special music act. But always, you'd get to see the cast just goofing around onstage after the show. They seemed to genuinely enjoy being together and doing what they were doing.

There's this innocence and joy to that first season. Embodied by the opening credit sequence, featuring the cast members throwing paint around a set, like little kids allowed to go nuts.

I know what you're thinking. I can't believe how much television I watch, either. But I swear to Christ it feeds the work. I'm a pop junkie. No apologies.

Ode to Ron Shelton

No, I haven't seen all his films. But any filmmaker who can make me care about baseball, basketball (+ Jeopardy), golf and another corrupt LAPD movie has got to be worth something.

Just watched BULL DURHAM for the first time, perhaps, since I saw it in the theaters when I was 12. Suffice it to say, I appreciated it a lot more this time. As a kid who wasn't interested in baseball, it was probably easier for me to appreciate a movie that wasn't so adult in nature. I didn't get BULL DURHAM as a 12-year-old kid. I get it now. It's remarkably mature in a way you don't see too often. Terribly smart screenplay. Intelligent and fun and kind of moving. I still don't give two shits about sports, but that's the reason I respect a movie that makes me care about them. Like a movie that makes you afraid of sharks, or spaceballs.

In other news, tonight I've done something that could significantly change my life. It could also change absolutely nothing. (That's the significance of "could".) Either way, I feel good about it. At least right now. I've been wringing my hands about this for over a week, but I honestly feel like I've done what I needed to do.

Those of you who know... know. For those of you who don't, I guess this is just another fucking cryptogram of an entry. For that, as ever, my heartfelt apologies.

June Daze

June already? Seems only yesterday it was May! And here we plunge into the 6's...

The forecast for today looks positively criminal. Hot and thunderous. "Lord", why have you forsaken us?!

In what can only be described as perfect timing, the environment at my job may be on the edge of turning ugly...

I'll be the first one to admit that I've got a cush situation at work. As far as day jobs go, it's exactly what I wanted coming out of college. Not too difficult on most days. My nights and weekends free and clear. No obnoxious manager breathing down my neck and scrutinizing my every move. I get my work done and the higher-ups leave me alone. But that may all change this month...

In the interest of perceived progress, they're going to be implementing a new "work-flow" system that could totally fuck up my Eden. Less down-time. More tabs kept on the use of my hours. A reinvigorated Thought-Crimes Police.

I'll have to tough it out. I need this job. It's my safety net. Corporate funding for my dreams. It's only June. There's half a year left. A lot can happen yet...
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[Note to self: I must find a way to see this movie.]