I've been playing a friend's copy of ARKHAM ASYLUM, a terrific videogame that has a remarkable number of references to Batman's extensive rogue's gallery, from the popular to the obscure. I started to notice that there were a number of Batman villains taken from the pages of Alice in Wonderland over the years...
Mad Hatter (AKA, "Jervis Tetch"). First appeared in 1948.
Humpty Dumpty. (AKA, "Humphry Dumpler"). First appeared in 2003.
If they all appeared in the comics around the same time, I would've thought that there was a specific Wonderland narrative that was cooked up, but from what I can tell these characters entered the stories independently.
I'm not a comics scholar so I don't know if anyone's written about the tie between Batman and Wonderland. A lot of writers cook up a lot of narratives over the course of an iconic franchise like this and I'm curious how a trend like this occurs and whether there are discussions about the greater meaning behind it.
Discuss among yourselves. Or forward me an article to enlighten me.
The "Spinal Tap" comparisons are indeed hard to dismiss. The drummer's name is Robb Reiner, for god's sake. But Anvil is a real rock band with real men who have spent decades trying to break through.
I'm sure seeing the movie with an audience there'd probably be a lot of laughs. Seeing it home alone in a quiet Tomb, the experience is a little more heartbreaking. Guys in their 50s, working dead-end jobs, chasing the dream on their free time. People might say it's inspiring. Personally, it kills me.
I'm just a fucking nobody writer. I've been a writer "on the verge" for maybe 3-4 years now. And it has been kicking my arse. Cannot imagine hitting 50 and being in the same place, waiting for my ship to come in. Doors slamming in my face, putting out work that never gets properly seen.
See the movie. As a documentary, it could have been better. As a narrative, I could have used a little more information along the way. But the heart of it is all splayed out. It is a small spoiler to say that in the end, the Japanese market is Anvil's salvation. I don't know why someone didn't tip off the members of Anvil sooner. The United Hates of America may have turned its collective back on rock, but the Asians will always save you. And don't you ever forget it.
If you've seen it and are curious about the impact the film had on the band, check out this interview. (For the record, the guy who made the ANVIL documentary was one of the writers of Spielberg's THE TERMINAL.)
ANVIL's new album is called "Juggernaut of Justice". The documentary has supposedly been released on both DVD and Blu-Ray, though Netflix sent me the doc on DVD. That is a juggernaut of injustice...
An excerpt from a NY Times Magazine article a friend forwarded me a few weeks back that I'm just now getting around to reading:
Strained by Katrina, a Hospital Faced Deadly Choices By SHERI FINK Published: August 25, 2009
The smell of death was overpowering the moment a relief worker cracked open one of the hospital chapel’s wooden doors. Inside, more than a dozen bodies lay motionless on low cots and on the ground, shrouded in white sheets. Here, a wisp of gray hair peeked out. There, a knee was flung akimbo. A pallid hand reached across a blue gown.
Within days, the grisly tableau became the focus of an investigation into what happened when the floodwaters of Hurricane Katrina marooned Memorial Medical Center in Uptown New Orleans. The hurricane knocked out power and running water and sent the temperatures inside above 100 degrees. Still, investigators were surprised at the number of bodies in the makeshift morgue and were stunned when health care workers charged that a well-regarded doctor and two respected nurses had hastened the deaths of some patients by injecting them with lethal doses of drugs...
Ooh!, looks like a good one, uh? Nicko really knows what we likes, mmm?
Speaking of the lonely life, the other day... I purchased cat food for the first time in my life. It's so peculiar to go through an aisle of the supermarket you would normally just pass swiftly through to get to a more pertinent aisle.
What's sadder is that the cat food cost more than the food I was buying for myself.
I can't wait to start laughing about this excessively impoverished period of my life.
I've got a roommate who's only here about half the week. I wonder what he's going to start to think when he begins noticing that the recycling bin gets filled with empty bottles of hard liquor on a fairly regular basis. (I've got to skimp on food so I can afford my "medication".)
Oh, are you getting suitably off-put by my latest animated-gif...?
Here's something completely different to viddy:
What? Not enough randomness for a THXgiving entry?
I'd like to imagine that this was inspired by my recent blog entry, but I'm not (quite) that delusional.
From THE ONION News Briefs:
'The Office' Ends As Documentary Crew Gets All The Footage It Needs SCRANTON, PA—After nearly six years on the air, NBC's hit show The Office ended abruptly Thursday when documentary filmmaker Ian Sheffield announced that he and his crew had all the footage of the Dunder Mifflin Paper Company's Scranton branch required for their project. "In retrospect, we really over-shot this thing by an enormous margin," said Sheffield, adding that he likely had more than enough good material after filming a British workplace from 2001 to 2003. "We would have finished much earlier if one employee or another didn't insist on being interviewed every three minutes. And I have no idea why we were invited to Jim and Pam's wedding. All of that stuff is totally unusable." Sheffield said that the footage will be drastically cut down and used primarily as B-roll for the planned 90-minute educational film about paper manufacture and production.
Hello, Constant Readers. I realise (sic) that I've been incrementally revising my appraisal of THE TOMB, but it is a complicated affair.
LOCATION.
About one block from The Tomb, you can find a methadone clinic *and* a parole office. Two blocks from The Tomb? A Dean & Deluca. It is a wild and woolly location, far more mercurial than the relatively tranquil Fortress of Solitude 2.0 on the Upper West Side.
CRITTERS.
For all the bellyaching I've done over the general messiness of The Tomb prior to my arrival, I should say that (knock on wood) I haven't found much evidence of pest issues in the apartment as I've gone through the process of cleaning it up.
At least, I hadn't... until Monday afternoon...
You see there is an adorable cat named "Gotham" who's come under my charge here and I've done my best to improve conditions for her. She's been here for years and is largely responsible for the pest-control, so the stories go. For her troubles, her owner has various scratching posts and cat-climbing paraphernalia set up. The floor littered with cute little cat toys, like feathery balls and stuffed mice...
... well, it turns out that not all of them were "toys"...
Sunday, decided to treat myself to a 3D IMAX Robert Zemeckis movie. I'm a Zemeckis-apologist but I admit to being slightly underwhelmed by his A CHRISTMAS CAROL adaptation. Just so happened that a 6pm showing of Wes Anderson's FANTASTIC MR. FOX was happening not too long after the IMAX let out—and since I've been so behind on movies, with an additional desire to add value to the expensive IMAX ticket ($18.50?!?), I went for the sneak. Ben Stiller happened to be at the show, on his own. People on the UWS are so cool, though, no one really bothered him.
I loved FANTASTIC MR. FOX. Really great stuff.
After the movies, it was back to rehabilitating The Tomb for me...
There's an old couch that had been sitting in the apartment for ages. You see, they bought a replacement couch a few summers ago and just piled the dumpy old couch in a corner. Over time, they piled more old shit on top of the dumpy old couch: boxes of bullshit from the ghosts of roommates past. Since I moved in on November 13th, I've been on a mission to reclaim the much-needed space occupied by all of that useless junk.
Steadily, I got rid of boxes and bags filled with things that should've been tossed ages ago. Till finally, it was that blasted old couch that needed to go.
Sunday night, I managed to get that big old bastard of a couch down four fucking flights of stairs ON MY OWN.
Out onto the curb. Who knows what will happen to it. The sanitation deal in the immediate neighborhood of The Tomb is a sketchy affair, I've found. Eventually, it'll be gone forever. But at the very least, it's out of this fucking apartment.
The Tomb is beginning to look... kinda okay. Been spoiled because one of my roommates has been out of the country, so I know it'll get more crowded and the mess will be more of an ongoing war.
And yes... if you want to get *technical*, I don't actually have a job right now, so there is all of that.
But all in all, for all the downsides and uncertainties and concerns... I hazard to say I'm fortunate to be in The Tomb. It might just be okay yet.
Not a big fan of the way the American Office never really deals with its "fake documentary format".
For one reason or another, I recently felt compelled to revisit The Office Christmas Special, the finale to the original BBC programme. I've been watching THE OFFICE (US) for so long now, rewatching THE OFFICE (UK) makes it feel like an alternate universe. It also reminded me how vastly superior the BBC version was.
I love how the BBC series finale dealt directly with the fallout of the aired documentary. Gervais & Merchant take the documentary format seriously. In some of the interview segments, you actually hear an offscreen person prompting the subject with questions. The aired documentary has had a direct effect on the lives of these people, as you would expect.
In the American series, the fake documentary format is kept but the documentary is some phantom, perpetually-filming project. Characters do their separate interviews commenting on the action, and they respond to the presence of the camera in various situations, but there is never any speculation on WHAT IS BEING FILMED or how it is going to be used. How it may change their lives. The characters just take for granted that they're being filmed by a phantom documentary crew for some phantom documentary that needs to shoot constantly and for an indefinite period of years. Many times, the cameras are conveniently positioned to capture random incidents that they shouldn't have anticipated happening. Other times, multiple shots are set up wherein you SHOULD be able to see one of the other cameramen, but you don't: the documentary crew does not exist! It's annoying and more annoying that the producers went on to create PARKS AND RECREATION in the same damn fake documentary format.
The BBC version was a much shorter series so it may have been easier to explain the documentary format. It was good that they kept "the aftermath of the aired documentary" to the Christmas Special finale because you want the show to be about regular people at an office and NOT about "reality show stars"... which is the only rationale for a documentary crew to be filming a group of people over so many years.
And this is another reason I think the BBC original is so vastly superior to the American version. Rewatching it, the BBC characters were more "real". The sense of quiet desperation inherent in a dead-end office job is more palpable. The romantic leads are NOT the most attractive people about. Tim is a bit schlubby. Dawn has a few extra pounds on her. It isn't love-at-first-sight between them. The attraction that develops is the sort that grows incrementally by seeing someone DAY AFTER DAY: a person that makes a bleak environment more bearable.
Check out the last ten heartbreaking minutes of THE OFFICE (BBC):
American Office? Jim and Pam (Bizzarro Tim and Bizzarro Dawn) are way too cute. The tone is a lot sunnier. You don't really get the sense of desperation that people have in a dead-end job. Though there is a lot of eye-rolling, people in the American Office seem to enjoy where they work...
Here's the thing: I *like* how the American Office grew into its own and eventually found its own heart and identity (after an initial spate of episodes with premises lifted directly from the BBC original), but I really dislike the show evolving into a cartoon.
Take "Dwight". For a stretch when he was going through some relationship issues with a coworker, his character seemed to be written as a real human being. Contrast that with the opening to the last episode, featuring Dwight bounding about the office as a costumed character named "Recyclops" -- a fun gag relating to the corporate mandate to promote "green living" on all the NBC shows, but he's a complete cartoon at this point. How does this character work at a regular office? In scenes like this, he is completely insane.
During one of the commercial breaks, there was a preview of THE OFFICE music video, which just seemed to add a few more sharks for the series to jump over. (I watched the atrocity and it represents everything that's wrong with the show.) The appeal of THE OFFICE is that it resembles a real office environment. The American version is failing that vision miserably as it falls in love with its own quirk.
I *like* the show. I just think it's a whole lot better when the characters are written as human beings.
The BBC original had the advantage of having a far shorter run and thus less danger of running the premise dry. American tv shows, they just run into the ground.
I think this Tim monologue from the BBC version is so much more profound than anything from the American version:
"The people you work with... are people you were just thrown together with. You don't know them, it wasn't your choice and yet you spend more time with them than you do with your friends and family. But probably the only thing you've got in common is that you walk on the same bit of carpet for 8 hours a day. And so obviously, when someone walks in who you have a connection with... yeah, and Dawn was a ray of sunshine in my life and it meant a lot... but... if I'm really being honest, I never really thought it'd have a happy ending. I don't know what a happy ending is. Life isn't about endings, is it? It's a series of moments... and, um... it's like, if you took, if you turned the camera off, it's not an ending, is it? I'm still here! My life's not over! Come back, come back here in 10 years... see how I'm doing then. Cause I could be married with kids. You don't know. Life just goes on."
Similar to my rationale for joining Twitter, I decided I needed to investigate the phenomenon first-hand to get a better sense of this new trend of "appointment gaming".
What's the appeal?
It's a dollhouse sim. Amassing enough money to afford decorations to create some farm you think's pretty.
For the unemployed (*cough*), there is the added illusion of making "money" via some simple, repetitive, carpal-tunnel-syndrome-inducing mouse-clicks. What a remarkably empty sense of accomplishment, when you "master" a certain crop.
Along those lines, my renewed commitment to health involves incorporating a regular intake of bananas and carrots.
Carrots keep a lot better than bananas. I am terrible at buying produce because it generally spoils so easily. But I am trying to get stronger. The stress of the past few months has taken a certain toll and I am determined to rise above this.
One of the... challenges with my new living situation is that my bedroom was partially furnished. The previous roomie fixed up the room nicely with some carpentry and furniture and left it all in here. Which has meant I haven't been able to fit most of my own furniture in my bedroom. I've adapted most of the stuff here for my needs. I'm gradually adjusting to the new setup. But living here kind of feels like living in a hotel room. There is a black recliner chair in my bedroom that serves as the perfect place to sit while watching television; amidst all the negatives and compromises attached to living here, this feels like a peculiar luxury.
It is NOT quiet in The Tomb. The traffic noises keep up into the night. There is an oasis of hours during the dead of the night when it quiets somewhat, but it does not last very long. And the trade-off to living within walking distance of some good bars is that you're hearing the drunkards shouting at each other into the wee hours, sometimes.
Attended my first free screening Wednesday evening. It was a screening of FUNNY PEOPLE, one of the many movies I missed this year, trying to save money. It was a bit all over the place, but I enjoyed it for what was there. Bit of a shame that it probably marks the end of the Apatow streak. With a little more script work, and/or a little more work in the editing room, it could have come together a lot better. But I've become a lot more forgiving of other people's work since I've been let into the film industry. I respect anyone who can make a living in this godforsaken industry.
Trying to focus on a brand new original spec script now. I've got so many fucking FRAGMENTS of ideas, recorded in notebooks and Word files. I'm trying to compile the ideas into a document to share with my reps so they can decide which one I should focus on. This is what I've been doing. There are things I can't share with you right now, Dear Blog, but I am doing this in antici-PATION of some bigger heat to come....
I am trying to get my groove back. The past several months and weeks, I've faltered. Now, it's time to get stronger again.
That's what it cost to get the cable/internet service restored at The Tomb.
Cable was cut off on 11/16/09.
Internet was cut off on 11/17/09.
So hard-up for television, I spent a good hour of elliptical time at my new New York Sports Club location watching CNN instead of listening to music on Tuesday.,.
Straws and camel-backs, you know...
TIME WARNER internet and cable are now restored. FWIW, you should know that my ever-previous DVR box continued to successfully record programs even after access was cut off. "Attack of the Show" on G4 and "How I Met Your Mother" on CBS HD... perhaps I've said too much...
BARNONE, this is one of the craziest times of my life.
But I will live through this. That's what I do. I live through hard times.
Cable gets shut off because the roommate—who's trotting about Asia till some vague date in December—has failed to pay the bill in months. Sucks, right?
I don't think you fully understand...
Years living in Fortresses of Solitude were made less painful with the opiate of cable television. As the walls closed in, my electric window offered relief. The illusion of a larger world.
Now... living in the newly christened TOMB... I need this escape more than ever...
The apartment is literally a dump, in a shitty area that is noisy as fuck through the better part of a 24 hour stretch. I've only been here a few days and the experiment is already failing. I'd pay the debt off myself but I can't afford to pay 3-4 months of overdue cable bills right now. I can't afford anything right now, which is why I'm fucking in this situation.
If the internet gets shut off, however, I'll need to take heavier measures.
Cable TV just got cut off. Phoned the cable company and was notified it was because of "lack of payment". I'm unable to do anything since I am not the account holder in this apartment, and the absent-minded account-holder is traipsing around Asia until December.
Sent him an email. Internet still works, for now. Will see how long that lasts.
My manager was in town and took me to dinner Saturday night. For all the exciting, encouraging news he related to me, I walked away feeling bummed out.
I'm on the cusp of big things. Perennially, I'm on the cusp of big things. Still, it's hard to enjoy when you're broke with no clear view toward a paycheck. A friend suggested I should just live as if money weren't such an obstacle... and I do, at times... but it ain't too fun.
Been steadily excavating The Tomb. It's a small blessing to have one roommate away in Asia till sometime in December and the other roommate only here about half the week. Sunday night, I got rid of a shitload of stuff that they'd left piled up in the apartment for forever. We're talking stacks of newspapers from years ago. Busted old computer monitors and stereo systems, ghosts of roommates past. Like an episode of HOARDERS. Been feverishly clearing things out just so I might have some space for my stuff.
I really hope that the next place I can afford to move into will have enough square footage to accommodate everything I own without necessitating a dramatic purge. Though I'll definitely be working on lightening the burdens before then.
The Tomb is in bad need of an extreme makeover, just to make it a place I can comfortably live and work in. Wee hours of Monday mourning, I can see it starting to come together. And yet, it seems there are miles to go before I'll be home.
Once you've moved into a new place, there is nothing quite like the sensation of getting your computer hooked up and getting back online to make you feel like a real, complete human being again...
Indeed, it's a small wonder I've managed to set it up this quickly.
Welcome, dear readers, to The Tomb.
How does The Tomb differ from the Fortress of Solitude 2.0?
A lot less space.
2 roommates. (Though, to be fair, one's away in Asia till sometime in December and the other is only here about half the week for various reasons.)
The sounds of traffic and Emergency Response vehicles are fairly constant.
Sketchy Korean landlord. No super.
Also, I'm now the co-caretaker of a cat named "Gotham". Of all the things I was bracing myself for with this move, it's only just now struck me that I'm essentially a pet-owner again. For the first time in many years.
Did I mention I have a lot less space? I've got my work cut out for me in taming the chaos that I've contributed to in moving here. For all I've ridded myself of leading up to this move, I've still got way too much to fit. I'm going to make this work, though. I don't really have a choice.
Saturday mourn, cable guy is supposed to arrive to install a cable box for my tv.
I'm on less than 4 hours of sleep. Haven't eaten. Feeling downright rotten.
But my computer works. It's these little things that keep us human.
My last "live" update from the Fortress of Solitude 2.0.
Kathy the broker called me Wednesday morning, asking if one of her broker partners could quickly show the place in the afternoon. Assured me that they would be prepared for the fact that the place would be riddled with boxes.
It helped put a fire under me to do some extra clearing up. The broker and his client were really nice. They probably spent two minutes here before thanking me and taking off.
These final days and hours before a move really suck. Doesn't help when you're not too thrilled about where you're moving to. Holding out on packing the final creature comforts. Waiting till Thursday night to pull the plug on the computer and the television.
Wednesday, my last load of laundry done. Last pick-up from the dry cleaners.
Thursday, making time for a farewell run at the neighborhood gym. I should try to drop by the new place and do some prep for the move-in, too.
I do loathe the chaotic nature of moves. Trying to consider everything that can go wrong when you're having perfect strangers transport all your worldly possessions. I'm mildly comforted knowing that I've gone through some difficult moves before...
The move from the West Village to Chinatown was a disorganized mess. Two cars and a gang of friends-of-friends.
The move from Chinatown to Park Slope was a lot smoother. U-Haul van and a more organized group of friends.
The move from Park Slope to "Metrotech" (which sounds like a place where they'd have Robocop patrolling the lawless streets) was my first experience hiring movers. There was a freight elevator there which helped a lot.
The move from Metrotech to the Upper West Side went relatively well, too. Hired movers again. It was a lot more expensive than I'd hoped for -- and by that time the Metrotech building's freight elevator wasn't operational -- but it got done.
(There was also the time I went out to Cali to help my ex's parent move, which was an astounding nightmare.)
Of course, I list these for my own reassurance. I've made it through more difficult moves. People move all the time. Farther distances. Across state lines. Across the country. I just get wound up when there are a lot of factors outside of my control. Money is exceptionally tight, as well, and I need to make sure I leave here cleanly so I get my deposit back.
A lot of words here and not very much said.
I'm sad to leave. Anxious about the new home on many levels. But it is needful. A strategic move with an eye on the long-term goals.
I'm ready, Warden.
[If you're looking for a real bummer, you can browse through the last statements from executed offenders.]
the thirties (or "i've always had a crush on kim deal")
I miss being in my twenties. (Said the thirty-something.)
Fuck hindsight. I could say, "I miss being a child and not having to worry about paying for rent and meals..." but I had a deliriously crumby childhood and I don't miss it, nor do I miss elementary/junior/high school and all of that business.
But the twenties. You're an adult but it's like a second chance at childhood. Anything you can accomplish in your twenties is stellar. There's a freedom. Even if you screw up your career, YOU ARE IN YOUR TWENTIES. You're just a kid figuring things out.
You hit your thirties, shit gets real...
For a stretch, I kinda thought I was ahead of the game in my twenties. Before the divorce and all of that drama. But right at thirty, my career took off and the world seemed chummy again.
Now, I'm slouching toward my mid-thirties and despite the fact that I still get carded, everything has increased significance. After living on my own for a number of years, moving to an apartment with roommates again while my career may (or may not) be on the cusp of progressing to the next level. Considering the LONG-VIEW and trying to figure out how I expect to consistently support myself over the next few years. Where do I want to be in 5 years?
Plotting the remaining arc of my life and the strategy to retirement.
I was talking to my pop the other week and he was, characteristically, trying to offer me advice:
"Have you thought of looking for a job in the U.N.?"
"The United Nations?"
"Yeah."
"NO, I haven't looked into that."
"How about NASA?"
"NASA?!??"
"Yes, NASA. N-A-S-A."
"What would I do in NASA?!? I'm a writer!"
"Yeah! You could write speeches."
That's when I realized the reason I never listen to my father's advice is because he doesn't understand ANYTHING about the world. And yet he always needs to offer advice.
He also told me about one of my aunts who was recently diagnosed with leukemia. My old man is always terrific at buzz-kills. Message received: I am genetically doomed.
I'm going to miss living on my own on the Upper West Side.
It's a puzzle game now. I've got boxes of random sizes and not a lot of space to shift things around in my place. Plus, I still have to live and work in here for a few more days. It's come to the point where I've got to plot the remaining hours out.
Yet another drop-off at the Salvation Army on Monday mourning. Getting rid of a slew of kitchen items. It's amazing how much stuff I've donated to the Salvation Army for this move. And I've still got too much stuff for this tomb I'm moving into.
Also, got myself a haircut. My hair grows like crazy and it'd been far too long since my last haircut. Went to the nearby International Haircutters this time and had Tamiko work her wonders. She's the best. I was thinking this might be the last time I'd go there -- I started going there because it's so close to my apartment -- but I may actually take the train and keep going there. I'd have to start making appointments in advance though. I've gotten spoiled by walk-ins.
Friday, 9am, the movers descend and the party's over. Goodbye, Upper West Side.
I've got a lot of little things to do yet.
I'm not really a pack-rat but living in these tiny NYC spaces makes you feel like a pack-rat. Does having books make you a pack-rat? I'm down to two bookcases that I'm bringing to this new tomb and I know that it's still too much.
I've created a diagram to illustrate the size progression of my NYC living spaces over the past five years:
Yes, I'm really going in the wrong direction. Each move has required a dramatic downsizing. This one even more than the last. And I still don't think I have the space I need, but we're going to have to make do, yah feel meh?
The Tomb awaits me. (Perhaps "Hell's Tomb", as a nod to its proximity to Hell's Kitchen. But simply "The Tomb" seems somehow most fitting.)
I just need to get through this week... (... and this month... and this year...) ... but I'm already dreaming of the place that will be worthy enough to call the Fortress of Solitude 3.0... THAT will be a grand, haunted palace...
There is so much more I could have and should have accomplished this week. A part of me is just clutching onto these final hours and days I've got in a space that is completely my own. I don't want to leave the Upper West Side. This location has been perfect for me. This was my first apartment all to myself. Moved here on the heels of a devastating transitional phase in my life. Moving out during another transitional phase. But all of this is in service to the Big Picture.
An encouraging call from the manager Thursday afternoon. Hoping I'll be able to share something more substantial here relatively soon.
One week from today. I've got to get my shit together. Because I can't live like this forever.
Gotta admit, Robert Lawrence Stine is a far better writer than some of the other authors I've been forced to read as of late. I'm not far into this book, but the guy's craft is tight.
I'm not the fastest reader on earth but it takes me even longer to get through these "assignment" reads because I take a lot of notes as I'm going through one of these books, to try to save myself some time afterwards. I had no experience adapting before I broke into The Business, but adapting has basically become the entirety of my pitiable life as of late.
Treatments. Treatment after treatment after (pardon my french) motherfucking treatment. That's another thing I had zero experience doing before, and now it occupies every square inch of my productivity.
This section breaks down the ADAPTATION OVERVIEW...
This section breaks down CHARACTERS...
This section breaks down SCARES...
This section breaks down STRUCTURE...
Are your eyes appropriately glazing over? Keep in mind, all of this work is served up GRATIS. Work done with zero immediate compensation. Imagine a prostitute offering free blowjobs to prove her worth before you actually pony up hard cash. Ah yes, nothing better than a good screenwriter/prostitute metaphor, is there...?
Sorry female readership. This is one of those entries. Honestly, with as much as I've got to do in the next few weeks, you'd think I wouldn't have time to compose an entry about Keri Hilson, but...
How did my music rotation get so invaded by r&b and hip hop?
There's just something about Keri Hilson that's just wayyy too hot on too many levels. It makes me stark raving mad. Utterly fucking lunatic.
One of the liberating aspects of knowing that your blog attracts relatively few readers is that it allows you to write whatever the hell you feel like writing.
Lonely as the hours may be, I can't even entertain the thought of dating or having a girlfriend right now because there is way too much transition and troubleshooting I'm dealing with. So, in theory, there is no way I should be able to listen to Keri Hilson's relationship songs at the moment because they should have little immediate resonance...
And yet, she has me.
Her and her poppy r&b confections and her appallingly pretty looks. She absolutely decimates me.
Final days counting down. Been having a bitch of a time trying to crack this one treatment I've been working on, it's really killing me. Not to mention the other treatment I need to get done, and the young adult novel I've got to read for yet another potential project.
And then, there's the move...
Everything is getting cut really close here. I knew it would but still...
There are problems in the new place that I won't even be able to deal with until I'm there. (Like the fact that there's no fucking super in the new place, and the door buzzer's been busted for ages, and I get a lot of packages...)
