i know you tried so hard, but you can’t even win

Buying mustard LIKE A BOSS!!!

Ice Machine

March is closing shop and I am still under the radar.

Why is this taking so long? Why does everything have to be process of waiting?

I am cold. There is no warmth to me. Until I can get this project going, I dispense ice.

I am no fan of April and the deadline for taxes.

Enjoy your Friday, lurkers. The world can only get better from here.

Note to Self:

Don't eat raw oysters.

Many people enjoy raw oysters.

You are NOT one of those people.

It doesn't matter if the oysters are being sold at $1 a pop.

Doesn't matter if a friend offers you a few off his plate.

Doesn't matter if you only have three...

THEY WILL BE FUCKING POISON TO YOU.

They will put you out of commission for the better part of a day, in the aftermath.

All for what?

Something cold, salty and profoundly unsatisfying.

Don't do it. If the opportunity presents itself ten years from now, don't do it.

Listen to your repulsion. Avoid with the greatest urgency.

Pillars of Salt

There were times I looked at her and I saw... Beauty. Vitality. Youth.

Other times... I saw an older woman who carried herself with the delusional confidence of someone who used to be prettier. Who doesn't yet realize she's not such a pretty thing any longer—because men will hit on anything until it's far past its prime.

A woman who'd been fawned over her entire life. A girl who'd been corrupted by the idea that she was special.

And still... I cared about her somehow.

What a pathetic prize she turned out to be.

What Was and What Should Never Have Been

Getting around to raking my taxes together a little later than usual this year. Doing what I have to do, for now.

It's this strange ritual, every year. I meticulously comb through the previous year's receipts. Recalling and reliving all these significant events that I have these little paper reminders of.

O!, the optimism I had back in January of last year! The great expectations I had last May! The heightened caution of last October...

This time next year... come what may... things are going to look different.

Why Do You Keep Coming Back When I Keep Hurting You?

Trembling Lips and Carburetor Thighs

How It Can Be So Cold in All This Heat

First Day of Spring

Space Jockey

The "space jockey" is seen in Ridley Scott's original ALIEN. The curious artifact is never explored or explained.

PROMETHEUS marks Scott's return to the same universe and the latest trailer offers some extremely brief glimpses of something that strongly resembles the space jockey.

The magic of an animatic gif is that it can take a brief moment and stretch it infinitely.

I want to see this.



First full week of work ahead. Less sleep. More writing. More discipline.

Not for Naught

I'm grateful for my new (temporary) day job. The hours are long but it's probably the coolest, least-toxic work environment I've ever experienced. Puts to shame the work environments I suffered for the better part of my adult life. More importantly, it should help me keep the proverbial lights on.

The biggest test is fitting everything into the hours I've got in the day. The most important goal being getting my latest script to the place it needs to be. I need this one.

Friday. Wake up early to hit the gym before work. There's a chance I might have to field a phone call from this producer sometime during the day, to get feedback on the rough revision I sent him Monday night. If the call doesn't happen Friday, then it'll happen sometime Saturday—which might be better so I wouldn't have to take it at work but I'm just antsy to get notes ASAP. I'll be working on that thing all weekend. I know what that script needs to be and it's not quite there yet. And the clock is ticking.

Saturday morning: laundry! This is imperative.

Gradually, deliberately getting everything on the right track...

Neon Hitch

Happens every so often. I'm at the gym, listening to a podcast or shuffling through my own music when I see someone watching a music video on one of their screens -- and something about it makes me want to watch it later. Invariably, it's an artist I don't recognize so I try to wait to catch the text at the close of the video. This morning, I didn't get to catch the artist's name or the song.

But I still managed to find the video.

Incidentally, it's directed by someone who was in line to direct my first film project at Paramount a few years ago.

I may not add this to my itunes library.

Egg Noodles and Ketchup

Day 2 of the new day job. The test for today is to see if I can hit the gym before work.

I'm an accounting clerk.

[UPDATE—for future reference]
Leave apartment in gym clothes at 6:55am.
Out of the gym by 8:13am. (Cardio only.)
Walking, I'm in front of the office building by 8:30am.
Good weather.

BLACKOUT.

Monday night, finished writing a revision of the draft. Even though I was only focused on changes to Act 1, it was a lot trickier than I imagined it would be.

The script went from 90 pages to 84 pages.

But that's a bit inaccurate, since it was originally *barely* 90 pages and now the only word on page 84 is

"BLACKOUT."

(Spoiler alert.)

But, as per the producer, I'm not supposed to worry about page count for this draft.

Tuesday... I start my new day job. A three month gig, behind the scenes on a movie production. I'll have to schedule my conference calls a little later for a spell. I have no idea what's going to happen with *my* movie but I'm going to work my ass off to balance it all in the next few months.

I just made you up to hurt myself.

Did not go out this weekend. Locked myself up in my Tomb, trying to write my new draft.

Friday night, I started to hear a cacophony of cars honking. It happens where I live.

And then a car exploded in flames right outside my building.

I don't know what happened but the car was empty. It looked like it may have been abruptly abandoned. There were no ambulances, just fire trucks and cops. It was loud for a while.

Saturday morning, I went out to get some breakfast and an old man in a wheelchair suffered a seizure and fell on his head on the concrete—right as I was approaching.

Sunday, thankfully, I witnessed no horrors. Just me wrestling with my draft, which I am still in the middle of as I write this. It's a little more involved than I'd hoped.

This week. Anything can happen.

when we come to party we will party hard

(this is something that nick gaffney sent me without writing anything else)

I've Worked Too Hard for My Illusions Just to Throw Them All Away!!!

Hey, FUCKERS.

Yeah, YOU!!!

Listen. Today... things begin to change in a massive, unimaginable way.

Slightly less oblique?

I had a chat with my agent Tuesday night and I learned that today... things begin to change in a massive, unimaginable way.

Would that I could share some of the specifics with you right now, Constant Lurker.

Rest assured, however. When this shit breaks... you're going to be witness to some serious fucking shit.

My Voice Just Echoes Off These Walls

This week, I need to believe in miracles.

Scratch that.

I need a miracle. One, small, infinitesimal miracle amidst an infinite sea.

Something to level things out. Something that's *fair*, in its own way. Something that's deserved.

It's always darkest before the dawn? Well, it's been a long night's journey, kids.

Tuesday evening, I've got a conference call—but if I've a miracle-budget, I don't want to use it on that. You* know what I want.

("You" meaning "The Universe".)

This week. Some good news.

[[I wish success for myself and my friends, and that would include shitloads of money.]]

My Hate's a Prism

This quiet feeling of rage lately that I just can't shake.

It's a lot of things tied together.

It's so easy to go a little mad when you're waiting for a phone call. A phone call that could change your life for the better. A phone call that could catapult your career to another level.

It should be an exciting, hopeful time, but it is unpleasant to be at the mercy of a phone call. A call which may or may not come at any time. A phone call that has no firm deadline. My future is being held hostage by a phone call.

What happens if it all works out? What happens if I get this thing that I've been struggling to get for years?

I guess I'd be happy. But I have a sense that it would be something darker than that.

Vindication. Vengeance. Revenge.

It's like this win would represent a message sent to everyone who didn't believe in me. To everyone who believed in me but didn't stick around.

Listen, you fuckers, you screwheads. Here is a man who would not take it anymore. A man who stood up against the scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit. Here is a man who stood up.

I sometimes think about everything I've lost and it makes me angry.

Don't call it a comeback. It's something less friendly.

I'm grateful for everything I've got but I really need this win right now. No more fucking around. It's time to exit the chrysalis stage. It's time for me to level up.

Quantum of Solace

It's the new month. I need more time.