Sooo... I get to do public speaking tomorrow... at a wedding. Two things I adore! LUCKY.
I've got experience performing, and public speaking. And weddings are generally pretty easy audiences. But I still get all anxious and shit. I've sketched out the entirety of my speech in my head, but I've got to write it down coz I'm totally going to blank. And I want to make it as easy as possible for myself.
I don't mean to bitch and moan about it. I just don't want to fuck it up and I won't really be able to relax until they finish booing me off the stage, Amateur-Night-at-the-Apollo style.
I cannot wait till my part's done. Maybe when I've written it all down, it'll seem less daunting... by the time I get up to the mic, I want to be on autopilot...
I did get my doorknob fixed yesterday, so that's a good sign.
"To Emma and Nick," toasted the Gay Horse. "The fuck is so hard about that?!"
NickEmma Shuffled 5: 1. "The Dope Show", Marilyn Manson 2. "For Today I Am A Boy", Antony and the Johnsons 3. "Knockin' On Heaven's Door", Guns N' Roses 4. "You're Crazy", Guns N' Roses 5. "Everybody's Got Something To Hide But Me And My Monkey", Beatles Toaster Bonus: "Touched by the Sun", Carly Simon
I'm not going to worry about my fucking career for AT LEAST the rest of this week.
I can't describe what a relief that is. Just a bit over a year ago, I was at my old day job and I got the call from Paramount saying they wanted to option my play. And I haven't really stopped stressing about it since then...
Honestly, I think part of what was fucking me up was some of the theater stuff I was juggling. Every time I had a break from the screenwriting, I had to deal with some slice of (musical) theater hell and I never got a break.
Well, I shook that loose. If I'm gonna be writing full time, I'm gonna write stuff that means something to me. And I'm gonna take the time to decompress from the insane writing weeks like last week.
Oh man, I've got to give a wedding toast this weekend... whose BRILLIANT idea was that?!
"Let's have someone who calls himself 'Malice Highload' deliver a toast at our wedding, sweetie!"
28 YEARS LATER: The Groom: "In hindsight... I have no idea what we were thinking..."
All right, so I got my precious phone call Tuesday night...
Things are cool. If you don't know and I haven't mentioned it here, there's the threat of Writers Guild, Actors Guild and Directors Guild strikes coming up. Hollywood production slates are being divided between the potential pre-strike and post-strike movies. So the big question is whether or not MY SCRIPT gets to be a pre-strike movie—which is what we're gunning for.
Things are looking good but we won't really know for about two more weeks... which means I can relax a little.
And though it caused me some concern, it seems that Paramount's big HD-DVD announcement should not affect our project at all. Of course, I only know however much they tell me, but it's still an immense relief.
Had a good lunch meeting with an ICM agent. My script is now officially sent off to all the major agencies. (Before this, it was only leaked.) Things are progressing nicely. If I seem less than ebullient, it's coz I'm stressed out of my fucking gourd coz I don't know what's going on half the time.
What I want is for "The Butcherhouse Chronicles" to get made and to remain the sole writer for it. All I want is for that to be my first credit and to build upon that.
My career's the only fucking thing I've got going for me right now. It's the one thing I want to get right. Before I sort out the other aspects of my life.
This happens. I get rush weeks like last week and then I get "sit tight" weeks. Like this week. Meetings take place and I don't know what the fuck's going on till someone calls me.
Which is fucking excruciating. Coz it's hard to plan ahead for the week.
Hopefully some news today. Till then, here's an old Kat Von D interview. Filed under "Things That Only Malice Cares About".
It has been one surreal fucking weekend. Every so often, I force myself outside of my comfort zone just to see what happens. But in this funny way, altogether, I think I've had the best time I've had in a long while.
Saturday night, I made myself try that speed-dating thing—which was akin to jumping out of an airplane for me. Afterwards, me and some friends went and [CENSORED ANECDOTE]... and the night actually ended on an up-note.
Sunday, I met up with some really old school friends who I hadn't really seen since my own ill-fated wedding. My friend Stevie got married way back in October and finally got around to having his wedding reception, which was this crazy, catered BBQ affair in Long Island.
I'd forgotten how loaded Stevie's dad is. They had valet parking, and this big tent set up with plasma screens playing a continuous loop of pictures. The food was amazing, and they had this woman spinning cotton candy, and live musicians... I didn't really know anyone, but I was chilling with my old friend Ruthie and her husband Bodie, and their three-legged dog, "Uncle Pete". (Incidentally, the second three-legged dog I've met named Pete. Is it some sort of sick inside-joke among dog-owners?)
Felt good to interact with such an eclectic range of people this weekend, after being cooped up writing for such an intense stretch of time.
I found out that screenwriter Tony Gilroy owns a townhouse pretty close to where I live. Through some circuitous bit of circumstance, my friend James was hanging out there recently. Helen Mirren happened to be staying at the house—and James had no idea who she was—and he just popped his head into her room and said, "Hey, we're ordering Chinese food, you want anything?"
Helen Mirren politely declined his offer.
This anecdote is much funnier if you know James—who probably thought she was just some old lady who might like to eat some fucking Chinese food.
Anyway, I want to own my own townhouse in my neighborhood. Then Helen Mirren could have TWO places to stay.
So... last night, I tried out speed-dating. I figured I wrote a speed-dating scene into my last play, it's only fair that I should try it at least once.
Oh my fucking Christ, was it excruciating. One of the most awkward hours I've ever bought. Maybe as bad as I could have imagined.
Toward the end, it got slightly easier. With this one girl, I dispensed with the whole "What do you do?" routine and asked her if she'd done this speed-dating thing before. Apparently, she had, several times.
"Do you see the same people over and over again? " I asked, as if conducting research. "Isn't it awkward if you get the same guy and you've got to spend another 4 minutes with him?"
"It's not too bad," she said, contemplatively. "We're all adults here. If there was no chemistry, there was no chemistry. It turns into a sort of community..."
"Why do you keep going?"
"The way I figure, it's like a lottery. You've got to be in it to win it. Maybe that one time you go, you're going to meet that person... who's just there that one time."
A rational philosophy. But I think I may have to retire myself from that scene. At least until desperation gets the better of me again. And you KNOW I was using my Hollywood shit as if it were a life raft! It's the entirety of my game. I've just got to figure out how to parlay that into some motherfucking better times...
Pardon me for turning this blog into a lad-magazine, but Kat Von D is the hottest goddamn thing on the fucking planet, as far as I'm concerned. Insane bod, incredible tats and that deep, husky smoker's voice. She's the embodiment of Awesome. She's an adolescent fantasy come to life.
[When I first started seeing the posters and commercials for the show, I actually thought it was Marilyn Manson's ex-wife.]
I didn't really watch a lot of Miami Ink, but I find L.A. Ink positively mesmerizing. From what I saw of her on the Miami show, I thought she was kind of a bitch because she seemed really stingy about what she would and would not tattoo. But the new show is all hers and they do a good job of setting her up as a likable protagonist. Rock & roll girl coming back home to L.A. to start up her own tattoo shop... with an (almost) all-female roster of tattoo artists.
Paradise city...
("Kat eating hairless pussy.")
Maybe I can write a script that features a hot female tattoo artist... which would give me an excuse to hang out at her shop and ask her questions and shit. While I scribble down her answers in my little fucking notebook, like some starry-eyed schoolgirl getting an interview for her junior high newspaper.
I do think I should get my next tattoo in L.A. somewhere. Not necessarily the very next time I fly out there, but at some point...
xXxXx
Speaking of ink in L.A., I'm sending them 110 pages of it today...
It's been a slightly mad scramble this week, trying to get it done—but I'm more surprised that I've gotten it done ahead of the severe deadlines. Got notes Tuesday, turned in a preliminary draft Thursday, got notes through Thursday night... and I think I've managed to address them all now. 1:10am.
Spoke with one of the execs Thursday night. She took the time to give me a little pep talk, explained what was gonna happen. She said now's the time to let my producers (Platinum Dunes) go to work. They'll meet with the Paramount boss, convey their enthusiasm for the project. I'll have a big studio head reading my script this weekend...
Next week, she says, will be a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure. But I'll hear SOMETHING from them on Monday.
Then she said something funny. She said, "You're talented and you know it." She's not the first person who's ever said this to me, but it always strikes me as a strange compliment. It seems to imply that I'm cocky. I don't think I come off as cocky. On this blog, SURE, but I think I try to be extremely humble in my dealings with people—almost to a fault. Then why do people say that to me?
"Maybe coz you're one cocky motherfucker!" huffed the Gay Horse.
"Don't ack like you don't like it," crooned Malice.
Kat Von D Shuffled 5: 1. "My Father, My Heart", Kemuli String Band 2. "Don't You (Forget About Me)", Billy Idol 3. "Bowtie", Outkast 4. "Oh Comely", Neutral Milk Hotel 5. "Falls to Climb", R.E.M. Malice-Needs-to-Get-Out-More Bonus: "Good Love Never Dies", Liz Phair
Postscript: I don't want to name names, but *somebody's* fancily-labeled homemade THE WIRE SEASON 4, DISC 1 DVD doesn't work...! Three DVD-ROM drives and one PS3 agree.
Sooo... I get to do public speaking tomorrow... at a wedding. Two things I adore! LUCKY.
"To Emma and Nick," toasted the Gay Horse. "The fuck is so hard about that?!"
