Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Heart's Filthy Lesson

"Former Wall Streeters, fashion executives and real-estate agents are pole dancing and stripping for as much as $1,500 a night..."
—NY Post, Axed Gals Take Pole Positions

Oh my freaking lord. Some of those PYTs who worked at Bear Stearns back in the day...?? To imagine some of them doing this...

(Biting knuckles.)

I would kill. I commit murder. I would do reprehensible things. I would commit awful, unforgivable crimes to witness that.

I just don't care. Sometimes, you need to release the darkness of your heart's filthy desires, lest they destroy you...

Monday, March 30, 2009

Fuck Up Beats

Had to cross through Times Square to see Labute's latest play on Sunday and it occurred to me how I usually try to avoid crossing through Times Square at all costs. It's weird because it's such an iconic location, exploited in so much pop culture that it's amazing that it still gets used. I suppose it's an easy visual representation of the throng of modern society, bombarded with advertising and "culture". In reality, it's a big sucking tourist trap that's hell for walking because the crowds are filled with zombie-like out-of-towners gawking at the lights.

And the big Times Square Virgin Megastore is closing. What the fuck is that about?

But yes, there is the theater world. I miss theater. Every time I see a play, I miss theater. I've got a theater agent who I haven't spoken to in over a year because I've been so focused on launching the film career, but there's so much more I want to do in theater. I may always be regarded as a tourist in the theater world, because of the film thing, but as along as I can get a few more plays out of my system before my untimely death... I might be okay with that.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Hey, Kid, Nice Shot!

What's it all about, Alfie?

Tell you what it's NOT about: YOUR 13-YEAR-OLD ASS AIN'T NO DADDY!

Word of advice, mate—careful poking the slutty sluts as you head into your mid-teens.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Back Off Bitch



All right, this one legitimately killed me a little toward the end. The machines are all calibrated differently and I certainly don't put a lot of faith in the accuracy of ANY of their caloric counters. There are two machines that crack a grand easier than the others.

Be that as it may, I don't care how inaccurate it could be: breaking a grand in an hour on one of those things is fucking painful. Not much room for slouching around, you know. 1041 fucking hurt toward the end.

And for what?? What's it all for, blog?!? What does any of it matter???

In other vague news, I think I dodged a bullet last night. I am convinced that it's better this way. And now, I am taking a break from all of that desperation.

Listen, I don't care that the world is full of couples! I don't care if everyone's having a better time than me! I don't care if I die alone! This is me totally not caring!!!

No, I'm fine... I'm okay, REALLY, I've.. I've just got something caught in my eye...

Thursday, March 26, 2009

You're All I've Got Tonight

Shame on us. Doomed from the start. May god have mercy on our dirty little hearts.

Okay, I'm going to stop.

After tonight.

After whatever the hell happens tonight.

I'm going to quit the chase for a while. I'm not closing the door on meeting people. I'm just calling off the mad pursuit.

I've got nothing to prove.

I've got nothing to prove TO YOU!

After tonight.

After one more potentially psychotic night I might have to live down. After that and whatever horrible and/or anticlimactic events may occur tonight.

I've got too much going for me to waste my time on this stupid shit...

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Portlandia Albiflora

Sorry. Normally, I'm able to resist the random Facebook procrastination bullshit, but I failed to here.
Here are the rules:

1 - Go to "wikipedia." Hit "random... Read More... Read More" or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random

The first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band. (alternatively, if the first article you hit is short, hit Random Article two more times.)

2 - Go to "Random quotations"
or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3

The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

3 - Go to flickr and click on "explore the last seven days" or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days

Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4 - Use photoshop or similar to put it all together.

5 - Post it to FB with this text in the "caption" and TAG the friends you want to join in.
You can also post it to FLICKR or your blog or, perhaps best, skip doing this entirely.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Right Next Door to Hell

My noisy neighbors moved out last Friday.

That should be good news but God only knows what the new neighbors will be like.
"You know It doesn't like being called that!"

Silly me, Caprica Six. Silly me...!

[/End BSG Reference]

I took a wee peek into the apartment to see what it looked like. I somehow imagined it was bigger because I was always hearing a bunch of voices in there, like they were having little parties. But the fucking place looked as small as, or smaller than, my tomb of an apartment! Their kitchen and refrigerator were noticeably smaller, too. How the fiddlesticks did a couple live in there?!

Please let my new neighbors be quiet as corpses.

Monday, March 23, 2009

NES Hacks

A bit NSFW, though the imagery's crudely realized enough so that it shouldn't be immediately apparent how filthy most of this stuff is...

Some talented people have hacked old NES games and given them offensive makeovers...

Deranged NES Hacks

America's got talent, all right!

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Hooray for Boobies

Nothing like a weekend entry to alienate most of the female readers...

Caught this documentary on BBC-A called "100 Men Own My Breasts", which profiles several women who are trying to get their breast implant surgeries paid for by perfect strangers.

This is the deal...

Women can sign up to the site for free. Create a profile, post pictures, write blog entries, all the usual bullshit. They don't even have to post any provocative photos of themselves, but the goal is to get strange men to contribute money toward their breast augmentation surgeries, so a little aggressive campaigning helps.

Men can sign up for a basic account for free but you can't do much with that. To really do anything (send more than 5 messages, view and receive private photos/videos), you have to sign up for a "premium account" at $9.95/month.

Each woman has a goal amount for the cost of their surgery. $5,000. $10,000. This varies. Men can contribute as little as $10—up to sky's the limit—toward any woman's surgery. What's in it for the men? The women usually offer some more risque private photos. Some offer videos. Some will do special request photos/vids.

But this is not a hardcore pornographic website. Nor is it "Adult Friend Finder". The site strictly prohibits the exchange of personal contact information beyond the confines of the website. (Because they can't control the safety of those interactions.)

Naturally, I had to conduct some further research into the site, for the sake of this article...

Create the Perfect Girl at MyFreeImplants.com

Create The Perfect Girl at MyFreeImplants.com!

The site has the feel of a basic online dating website. People have profiles, you look at pictures, exchange messages. Except, of course, you can't ever actually meet any of the people you're messaging. (That said, there have got to be a million different ways to surreptitiously exchange personal contact info, though the site is supposedly very carefully monitored to prevent this.) As a guy, when you sign up for even a free basic profile—without even posting a photo of yourself or writing anything on your profile, the women start flooding you with private messages...

"Hi Malice! I see you're new here..."

"Malice, how are you? I knew a guy named Malice once..."

"Hii tHere, Malice! XOXO So, how did yoo find thes site...?"

If you actually upload a photo and put anything of substance on your profile, obviously the women can latch onto that and target you better.

To get all S.A.T. for a moment:

MyFreeImplants.com is to online dating sites
as strip clubs are to regular bars.

Which is to say, on the surface at least, the gender roles are switched: women aggressively pursue the men, and more pointedly the men's wallets. But while there's a flirtatious nature to the interactions, there's almost zero possibility of taking the "relationship" any further. In fact, you'd have far better odds of taking a stripper home.

Yes, there is some nudity, but not nearly as much as you'd imagine. MOST of the photos to be found range from downright Mormon-friendly to fairly tame. Nothing you wouldn't be able to see on network television, or at least FX. The lure of private photos, in exchange for a contribution, would offer more explicit nudity... but the internet has no shortage of free naked women pics.

So, what is it then if it's not based exclusively upon perversion...?

The women have their own narratives. There are a surprising number of moms who are looking to restore their breasts to their pre-child-bearing sizes/forms. Married women who have their husbands take the photos of them for the site. Some women need reconstructive surgery after an illness.

The women can't just access their funds to go on shopping sprees, either. When a woman achieves her target goal for the cost of the surgery, the funds are paid directly to the doctor. For the men, the added incentive of "before and after" pics.

One of the women profiled in the documentary chose to only post non-nude photos of herself. Until she actually had her consultation with a surgeon, got excited about the prospect of the enhancement, and started posting far racier pics of herself in order to reach her goal quicker. (She did.)

Everybody wins.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Take a Walk on the Wild Side

Little Max never once gave it away...
Everybody had to pay and pay...

A hustle here and a hustle there...
New York City is the place where they said,
"Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side."
I said, "Hey Max, take a walk on the wild side..."

As far as I can tell, Spike Jonze has turned Maurice Sendak's book into a tale of child prostitution in Muppetland. And I can't wait.

I never knew that Sendak originally intended the book to feature horses until he realized he couldn't draw horses. I'm all for coming up with creative ways to conceal my weaknesses.

One of my weaknesses: I'm not the fastest reader. I'd routinely get the latest HARRY POTTER book spoiled for me via office chatter; when there were still new Harry Potter books, when I worked in an office.

So, while it may not seem like a big deal to some of you, the fact that I managed to power through a 414-page novel in one night in order to pitch a film adaptation of it on Thursday... well, it was quite a feat. I never even did anything like that when I was in school. It's remarkable what you're capable of doing when you really fucking need to.

Friday aft, I've got a follow-up call with the same producer. About the book adaptation and a House of Usher adaptation. Curiously enough, there are a lot of thematic similarities. And I'd better be able to score at least ONE of those gigs.

Speaking of scores and the ability to do remarkable things...


New High Score, Mothafrakkaz.

This really happened.

Thursday afternoon, on very little sleep.

Final BATTLESTAR GALACTICA tonight. Two hours. I'll be watching it alone because I am the loneliest frakking nerd in the galaxy.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Variations on the Same Old Blog Themes

Blog entries about blog entries are a uniquely repellent 21st Century strain of navel-gazing, wouldn't you agree...?

I could argue that, as a writer, maintaining a blog (or two) is a beneficial writing exercise that keeps me moving forward creatively, but honestly it is clearly a form of procrastination.

It may release some exhibitionist steam, but it's not like I'm building something greater, am I? Even a terrific blog entry amounts to little more than a minute or two of mild amusement.

My tracker application informs me that the most perennially popular entries are:

Galaxy of Emptiness
New York Comic Convention

Those attract the most unique hits. Make of that what you will.

Tuesday night, St. Patrick's Day, I went to a few pubs and got fairly hammered. Woke up with a splitting headache Wednesday morn...

... yet somehow managed to have one of my strongest workouts in a while.

Wednesday night, NYC in the balmy mid-to-high 50s. Wanted to go out but forced to stay in and read a 400+ page novel for a conference call on Thursday.

Natasha Richardson has a posse. 45 years. Skiing is barbaric.

Who's getting the third posse in this trilogy? (We're all looking at you, Steve Guttenberg.)

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

These pretzels are making me thirsty!

It must get frustrating for you, Constant Lurker, to visit here on a semi-regular basis and read long stretches of entries dedicated to chaos and doom and desperation.

Oh, how I would love to offer you more. Fact, I've got entries I've drafted in my head for remarkable, awe-inspiring, pants-soiling milestones that have yet to happen.

Alas, until those glorious events actually come to pass in the really real world, all I've got to offer you are salted pretzels.

You gonna cry...?

I don't know how anyone can live like I live.

Speaking of mortality, Natasha Richardson may or may not be getting a posse soon. This is why I don't ski. (Because I love living so much, obviously.)

Tuesday, March 17, 2009


Discovered the "Chiller" channel, around the early 100s on Time Warner Cable NYC. Horror-themed joint that regurgitates a bunch of old stuff, like Freddy's Nightmares and the 80s version of The Twilight Zone.

I'd nearly forgotten about the 80s Twilight Zone. I guess that's the one I grew up with but I've gotten more accustomed to watching the original B&W series through countless marathons over the years.

The 80s version has a really cool opening sequence and higher production values than the 80s-based Tales from the Darkside. A bunch of remakes of the old storylines but a good selection of originals and some recognizable names credited as writers & directors. A fair share of clunkers, perhaps, but less egregious than Darkside.

Christ... 12 billion years never seemed so far away...

Well, this has been time well-spent, don't you think? On your way, then.

Monday, March 16, 2009

A Life of Quiet Desperation

Ice Age coming!

Accompanied by mass extinction.

Followed by a scorched earth. And further extinction.

The corker will be in 2 billion years, when the oceans dry up. Life's going to get a whole lot simpler then. Wait and see.

12 billion years, this blue planet's going to be an arid pink wasteland. Right before the entire planet gets swallowed up by the dying sun.

Then where will your "god" be?

No fear-mongering. This is really happening. I saw it all on the National Geographic Channel HD.

Forget the gaudy spectacle of billions of years. In a scant 100, we'll all be history. You and me, lurkers. Ashes to ashes.

It's remarkable how cheap life is.

And I am pissing mine away.

My hope is that the entire contents of the internet will be put into a time capsule and jettisoned into deep space before earth goes the way of Krypton. Then maybe some distant alien archeologists will pore over the shitty details of my blog and wonder over how I managed to keep going on and on and on like this. For months and years on end.

Ron Silver's got a posse. Golden slumbers fill your eyes.

Once there was a way to get back home...

Happy Monday.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Atari Teenage Riot

I think I'm particularly fascinated by the beginnings of the home videogame industry because I grew up during that time period.

SLATE article about the Atari 2600.

Another article at Kotaku focusing on the challenges of programming for the Atari:
... [the Atari 2600] could only display two sprites on the screen at any given moment. How they compensated for that is a technical challenge that I can't intelligently describe. But suffice to say, in Pac-Man - a disappointing port partially blamed for the early 1980s video game crash - every time you ate a dot, the game redrew the screen. This manic redrawing accounted for the ghosts' flicker...
Check out the Zombie Pac-Man I made! RUN FOR YOUR MOTHAFRAKKIN LIVES!!!

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Where A Kid Can Be A Kid

Some weekender reading for you, about violent trends at Chuck E. Cheese pizza parlors.
Fights among guests are an issue for all restaurants, but security experts say they pose a particular problem for Chuck E. Cheese's, since it is designed to be a haven for children. Law-enforcement officials say alcohol, loud noise, thick crowds and the high emotions of children's birthday parties make the restaurants more prone to disputes than other family entertainment venues.

The environment also brings out what security experts call the "mama-bear instinct." A Chuck E. Cheese's can take on some of the dynamics of the animal kingdom, where beasts rush to protect their young when they sense a threat.

Stepping in when a parent perceives that a child is being threatened "is part of protective parenting," says Frank Farley, a psychologist at Temple University and former president of the American Psychological Association. "It is part of the species -- all species, in fact -- in the animal kingdom," he says. "We do it all of the time."
Fucking Wisconsin, man. They really know how to mix shit up there.

(Enjoy my half-assed Photoshoppery?)

Friday, March 13, 2009

Spoiled Little L.A. Girls

One of the managers called me Thursday afternoon to needle me about visiting Los Angeles sometime in the near future, to take some meetings. I was wondering when they were going to start going after me about that—since I haven't stepped foot in L.A. since the summer of 2007, and definitely haven't gone while I've had actual representatives in L.A.

"We could piggyback it on top of the greenlight so we've got that to point to. Or you might have to come out here anyway for the Usher thing. There are people who are interested in meeting you right now but there are a few ways we could go about it. Just something to think about, coming up."

So, immediately, I start brainstorming the cheapest-ass ghetto ways I could get my arse to L.A.

Here's the thing: assuming I'm there for a week... plane ticket, hotel nights, car rental, the day-to-day expenses... it'd be about a cool grand, I think.

Other options? Bus (puke)? Train? Maybe save a few quid, but it's a much bigger time investment. I don't know if the savings make it valuable enough.

Hitchhiking cross-country could be an experience. But most likely a surefire way to become a cold case file. My boyish good looks, coupled with my inability to defend myself in any realistic way, would be far more attractive to serial killers than girlfriendable girls. I can just imagine Bill Kurtis narrating my cold case narrative...

"The case would remain cold for a solid 10 years until an unlikely break would arrive in the summer of 2019... when a 79-year-old trucker with a history of mental illness would come clean with a bizarre deathbed confession..."

My mother would be thankful just to reclaim my remains. For "closure".

A thousand bucks. That's the better part of a month's rent in this godforsaken city that I loathe and inexplicably cling to.

Son of a bitch.

Well, assuming this is something that's gonna go down in the next few months, I should have the scratch. Assuming one or more of these meetings actually leads to a frakking paycheck, that ought to staunch the bleeding somewhat.

Maybe I just like writing these entries where I can point out that I have representatives. It's one of the few novelties I've got in this lonely life I lead. I'll take what I can goddamn get.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Perfect Little Dream

Perfect little dream. (The kind that hurts the most.)

Forgot how it feels. (Well, almost.)

No one to blame.

Always the same.

Open my eyes...

Wake up, wake up, wake up... WAKE UP IN FLAMES.

After everything I've done, I hate myself for what I've become...

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Sleep When I'm Dead

TAKE anyone with a psychiatric disorder and the chances are they don't sleep well. The result of their illness, you might think. Now this long-standing assumption is being turned on its head, with the radical suggestion that poor sleep might actually cause some psychiatric illnesses or lead people to behave in ways that doctors mistake for mental problems...
"Are bad sleeping habits driving us mad?"

BONUS CLIP, from link...
Feeling emotional? Take a nap

If you find your working relationships deteriorate as the day wears on, take a nap. In a study yet to be published, Matt Walker from the University of California, Berkeley, and colleagues showed people pictures of faces expressing different emotions, including fear, anger, sadness and happiness, and asked them to rate how emotional they thought these faces were. They did this at midday and again at 6 pm. Participants were significantly more sensitive to angry and fearful faces at the second session.

However, this change did not happen if volunteers were allowed a 90-minute lunchtime nap during which they managed to achieve REM sleep. What's more, these people also became more receptive to happy faces. Walker concludes that REM sleep refreshes our civilising emotional reactions. "Sleep is essentially changing the magnetic north of your emotional compass, in a good way," he says.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Misanthropy Central Mood Ring

How is Malice feeling today, Misanthropy Central Mood Ring...?

Morose? Self-destructive? Cautiously pessimistic? Melancholic? The range is remarkable, is it not?


You must be on the edge of your seat when you conduct your daily check of this site, dear silent lurker.

Connecticut, Virginia, Indiana.

Oakland, California. Ashland, Massachusetts—WHO ARE YOU...?

I know most of this is cryptography. Here's a rare bit of concrete, for those who care: I've got to dust off my ideas for a Fall of the House of Usher film for a conference call with a producer next week. One of the slew of open conversations I've got. Irons in the fire. Could be something. Could be awesome. Could be dust.

Hey! I wrote a hit play! What did YOU ever do!???

Oh bother, how I despise myself...

What's funny, though this blog gets more hits on a daily basis, the decoy blog gets a greater range of hits, I think.

Earlier tonight, my therapist says to me, "I didn't know you wrote horror movies." I says, "How did you find out I write horror movies?" She says, matter-of-factly, "I GOOGLED you." Um... is that fucked up?

My voice is fucking shot. I've been living too hard too long. I have got to get it together. Before it's too late.

Monday, March 09, 2009

Life on Mars

Sometimes I wonder, what's it all for?

People around me living full lives and I'm in the middle of nowhere doing god knows what for days on end.

I don't expect anyone to understand but sometimes it just hurts like hell.

Saturday, March 07, 2009

Saturday Morning Watchmen!

Who watches the Watchmen every Saturday morning over bottomless bowls of Cocoa Puffs?

Excellent WATCHMEN/SaturdayMorningCartoon Spoof that you won't really get fully unless you've also read the book.

2PM IMAX ticket to see the big show. I was gonna reread the book beforehand, but I think it might be better to revisit it afterward. Hopefully, it'll free me up to appreciate the movie on its own as a piece of work.

Friday, March 06, 2009

Completely Fucking Lovely

O-o-h child things are gonna get easier
O-o-h child things'll get brighter

Someday we'll get it together and we'll get it undone
Someday when the world is much brighter
Someday we'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun
Someday when the world is much lighter...

Thursday, March 05, 2009

Art Gore

I'm not a huge fan of "torture porn" horror, but I've got to say:

Horror needs blood.

I caught the surprisingly entertaining MIDNIGHT MEAT TRAIN on blu-ray, and it has got a remarkable amount of blood in it. At the same time, as gory as it is, I don't consider it "torture porn". People are getting killed and it is extravagantly bloody, but it serves a narrative purpose.

The story of a photographer who's trying to capture edgier portraits of his urban landscape—to further his career—and in doing so, happens upon what seems to be one grisly fucking serial killer.

It's based on an old Clive Barker short story that I vaguely remember from back in the day. Barker's very proud of this adaptation (script by Jeff Buhler, directed by Ryûhei Kitamura) and opens up a bit in a small feature on the disc where he invites the camera into his art studio.

Barker discovered his love of painting when he was 45, and a tour of his studio reveals HUNDREDS of canvases that he's painted. Including an entire section of his duds, which he freely winces over and picks through to point out the ones that may be salvageable and the ones that are goners.

What I love about Barker is that he creates arty horror. Sometimes it's so far out it can be inaccessible. But a lot of the stories he's created lend themselves to deeper, more thoughtful adaptations.

Of course, Midnight Meat Train didn't get any support and was pretty much buried. Horror being such a resilient genre, you'd think there'd be more room for some riskier entries. But this world does not like risk. Pity.

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

Walkers Party All Night Long

I was wandering through the internet and found this on my own.

All right, LWD showed it to me, but didn't lift a finger to help me animate it. So frak him.

Today, I have no hard obligations. I have GOT to get some serious writing down.

Fucking Neil Labute manages to write more plays than I can manage to write stupid blog entries...
I have got so much to do.

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Haunted Fortress

I don't know if I necessarily believe in ghosts. I certainly watch enough paranormal documentary-type shows for story inspiration, but ghosts and hauntings... bit dodgy in terms of evidence.

That said, occasionally I experience what seem like ghostly visitations in dreams...

What does that mean?

Dead hours of Monday morning, I had a dream. I guess it was one of those curious half-dreams. In the dream, I'm in my bed in my apartment. Not one of those surrogate "this is supposed to be my apartment but it's really not" settings. It's just my apartment, in its current state.

And I physically feel this presence coming on. It's a little like a sense of electricity surging through my body. Not literally electricity, but something... volatile and alive passing through my core... and somehow, I know—or believe—that this feeling is a ghost visiting me.

This Monday morning, that feeling was accompanied by the vision of a girl—the dark figure of a girl—rising up and then crouching down toward me in my bed.

Pretty fucking horrifying. So much so that I abruptly and consciously SHOOK MYSELF OUT OF THE DREAM so that I could open my eyes and prove to myself that the figure wasn't actually in the room with me.

I've never seen that dark figure before, but I've had these types of dreams before.

I should really try to keep healthier hours.

Monday, March 02, 2009

24 Problems


Jack Bauer sits across from Chloe O'Brian at a booth, looking tense as he glances at his watch. He reaches for his gun...

This is taking too long! I don't like this...

I trust this place, Jack. It's the one pancake house I trust.

A WAITRESS brings them two plates stacked with pancakes.

Sorry for the wait, y'all...

Jack immediately draws his gun and points it at the waitress's head --

I ordered the BLUEBERRY pancakes -- WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO PULL!?

Please... I have a daughter...

Lady, I will find your daughter and take her to an international house of pain if you don't start cooperating...

Jack, it's okay, I think our plates just got switched...

(not lowering his gun)
Can you make the exchange, Chloe??

Sure, Jack, just give me a minute...

Do it!!! Now!!! NOW!!!

Chloe exchanges their plates.

Jack glances down at his blueberry pancakes, then GRABS THE WAITRESS BY HER ARM, pressing his gun against her shoulder --

Where's the whipped cream?!!

W-whipped cream...?

The whipped cream was part of the deal!!!

I-I can take it back, get it fixed for you--

NO!! There's no time!!! DAMMIT!!!

Jack releases the waitress. She runs out of the restaurant in tears. [Through a SPLIT SCREEN, we see her leg get caught in a STEEL COUGAR TRAP as she tries to flee. A COUGAR approaches her with menace.]

Chloe has a concerned frown on her face as she pours syrup on her pancakes.

Jack points his gun at Chloe --

Jack, what are you doing?

Pass me the syrup, Chloe!

I was going to pass you the syrup when I was done with it, Jack!

Do not argue with me! NOT TODAY! You don't know what I'm prepared to do!

It's coming right up, Jack, just give me thirty more seconds...


A BUSBOY stops by their table with a fresh pot of coffee.


Jack grabs the busboy by the head and SHOVES HIM AGAINST A WALL. He proceeds to attach a car battery to the busboy's earlobes...


New York City Schools are CLOSED TODAY, MOTHAFUCKAZ!!!

All of you parents and children who check this blog for school closings, this has been your confirmation.

God, I miss snow days. A well-timed snow day could really buy you some precious time. Delay a test or a report. Stave off disaster for a day. Used to pray for these days. Lucky, lucky days...

Sunday, March 01, 2009

Marching Orders

February was a million years ago. Whips by, doesn't it?

And we're onto the next one...

Stakes are raised for March, brothers and sisters.

I know it makes for a vaguer entry, but I'm far too superstitious to be explicit about my hopes and fears and anxieties about this month.

Allow me to amend that by saying that I am NOT terribly superstitious, but with so much on the line... a body doesn't want to take any chances with the mysterious clockwork of the universe, you feel me?

I've certainly suffered enough. If suffering is part of the payment for success, I think I've paid my share and then some. Especially considering that a lot of people stumble into success without breaking a sweat. What I mean to say is, I don't think I'd ruin the curve by getting some good news this month. I think it would balance things out, really.

What a profoundly lame weekend I've had. I should've been, could've been, partying my ass off to oblivion.

Instead, I've spent a quiet, cost-conscious weekend at home alone. Diligently working on my new script and playing Mortal Kombat Vs. DC.

Quiet before the storm...?

This month—the next few weeks—anything goes...