Triumph And Rejection

So the director of the show asked me to give him a ride home on Friday. His car was in the shop, there were tons of issues and he had to catch a six o’clock flight. So, I took off from Glendale at 2:30 to drive him to Santa Monica.

This was a bit of a drive and we hit heavy traffic (shocking) along the way. It was about four when I got him home and figured I’d just call it a day and head home since it was better than driving all the way back to work just to get my stuff and leave again.

Stuck on the 404 I got a call from a fellow PA, saying they were looking for an editor next week. I should call them right away and say I’m interested. So I call right up. I'm told I’ll need to prove my speed so I should come in for a quick sample edit.

I get off on Sunset and haul ass back to work. I made it in record time, busting into work sweaty and jacked up on nicotine.

They toss me in an editing bay and point to two assignments to test me. I whip through them in record time and they like the clips. So I should be set, right? Well, they are short handed in the PA department and have to think about it. They’ll call me during the weekend.

This morning I get a call and it’s someone from the assignment desk. Fingers crossed, I answer. As you can tell from the title of this entry, I didn’t get it. As a matter of fact they didn’t even mention it. All they said was I need to be a runner on Monday night. The shift runs from 8pm until 6am. Holy shit! Seriously? Yep.

I felt a little bummed for a while, but have settled in with the idea. It’s fine, no big whoop. There will be another time and I’ve already passed the audition.

What really bugs me is they didn’t even say, ”Listen, we really need you to do this instead.” or any kind of excuse. It was simply, here’s what you’re doing on Monday, so get ready to go do it. That’s what really bums me out. I wasn’t even properly rejected, just glanced over.

Ah, there is no business like show business.

McGrath’s Poop

So I’m at work and we share an office with that show "Extra". It’s like "Entertainment Tonight", but even more irritating.

So I’m in the bathroom taking a leak and there is a guy in one of the stalls. I’m assuming it’s a guy since it is the men’s room. Otherwise this would be an even more exciting post.

So the toilet in the stall is flushed and out steps the host of "Extra", Mark McGrath (I’m not sure if this is how you spell his name.) For those f you who are musically challenged, McGrath was (is?) the lead singer for the band Sugar Ray. They had a few hits in the late 90’s early 00’s. Now this guy is the host of "Extra"? How the hell does that happen? You’re rockin’ out on stage with your shirt off and someone says, “Hey, that guy would be a great host for pabulum television.” So it happened and there he was washing his hands next to me.

Seeing him does not impress me, I was never a big fan. I do want an answer to the career change, but I decided to be polite. Then I think of a few things that would make me laugh.

Stuff I want to say:

1. “Man, after a good dump I just wanna fly.”
2. “You know man, every morning I have to take a crap too.”

These are of course references to the two big hits that saturated radio back in the day.



Then I remember the one that would be honest.

“Hey, Mr. McGrath, I’ve got a friend up in the Bay Area who is just in love with you.”
“Oh yeah, what’s her name?”
“Todd.”

This is true, Todd had a huge man crush on Mark back in the day. I don’t know if it’s true today, but I find it funny nonetheless.

Anyway, I simply nod and say, “How’s it going.” He says nothing, apparently a bit ashamed to have proven that even famous people have bowel movements. Then he scurries out the door. I wash my hands and leave.

I thought for a second about checking the bowl for McGrath’s remains and maybe bagging it up to send to Todd, but then I realized dry ice and shipping would be too much for a joke, so I went back to work and decided to share this toilet humor with my readers.

Job

So I start my new job tomorrow. It’s a gig for the new show (blank). Yep, I’ve totally sold out and am working for an entertainment gossip show. That’s the way the cookie crumbles when you’re trying to survive in this town.

It’ll be an educational place though. I figure I’ll make some contacts and get up to speed on how other parts of this industry works.

The down side is I’ve got to be there at 7am! That really sucks. It won't be bad in July when we move to the new offices which are right down the street from me. I’ll be able to walk there, which will be nice. But for now I’m driving out to Glendale. That means getting up at 5:45 for the next couple of weeks. I don’t think I’ve done that…ever. So a new yet groggy adventure starts.

It’ll keep my mind off the fact that I’m swimming in lava right now.

Heart Fillet

It’s tough to open your heart to someone. It does tend to feel like that moment in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where Mola Ram pulls the guy’s heart out. Totally exposed and you try to keep everything at a PG-13 rating. Sometimes though you just have to bite the bullet and figure that being tossed into a pit of hot lava will be the easy part.



For me, before making that plunge I have to weigh a lot of things first. Why am I doing it? Is it because I don’t want to be alone? Is it because I just want to be able to check off the relationship box on the list and move on to other issues so I can salvage my existence and say I’m living a full life?

I know I’m not doing it to get laid. I’ve fooled myself enough to pretend that caring about someone isn’t worth the woes of trying to fake love. Plus it’s gotten really hard for me to even use that word. (Note, I’m not in love (I don’t think yet)), I’m just looking at the road in front of me.

What happens when the other person seems to not give a rat’s ass about me or just isn’t willing to make that move. Well, that may be a good thing. Best that someone be rational while I go volcano swimming.

Let’s face it. I’m not anyone’s first choice; I am after all some pretty damaged goods. Self-aware damaged goods but damaged nonetheless. I find it amusing because it's hard for me to fathom anyone not being damaged. It’s just my perspective of life. Every box of ‘Nilla Wafers has that damn wrinkled tear on the edge and you just need to find the one that sounds the fullest when you shake it. So I guess we can remove a few points from the self-awareness column. I'm not saying any of this to be down on myself, even though it sounds like it. Some people in this world are mentally healthier that others. I fall under the others catagory, not a big deal. I don't mind it, neither should you.

So to sum up:

1. Opening up to someone is hard because I fear rejection.
2. I like Indiana Jones and the Tempe of Doom more than the average viewer.
3. Not everyone is damaged and that’s a good thing.
4. ‘Nilla Wafers are a tasty treat especially when dipped in ice cream.

I think I’ve pretty much solved of my problems now. I’m actually just in need of cookies.

Ash Photo

So my mother sent me a picture of Ash today.

It’s pretty odd, I haven’t seen him in close to nine years and haven’t seen a photo of him in about seven.



He looks a lot like his mother, thank god. He also reminds me a little bit of Edward Furlong before he became a drugged out idiot several years back (Furlong, not Ash). I think you can see it around the nose and mouth.

The Blake Booth

Quick Recap:

Bonnie Lee Bakley was murdered in the parking lot of the Italian resteraunt Vitello's in 2001 after finishing a meal. Her husband, actor Robert Blake was accused of the murder.His alibi was he had forgotten his gun in Vitello's and went back in to get it when someone decided to shot her.

This is not only an odd alibi, but so fucking nuts it has to be true.

Blake was accused of the murder, put on trial and acquitted in I think 2004, maybe 2005.



Present Day:

Thursday night I was given the esteemed please of sitting in the booth at Vitello's where this soon to be separated couple shared their last meal. I sat on the side where Mr. Blake sat. Now I want to say, for the record, I can totally see forgetting your gun there. It's in a darker corner of the restaurant and the side of the cushion where I perceived he had set his gun for safe keeping was lost in shadow. There is no coat/gun check, so accidentally leaving it in the booth is totally plausible.

The food was passable. It was maybe one notch higher than an Olive Garden, but way lower than Milano's in Tiburon.

So why did I go? Well, morbid fascination really. It's that weird thing about trying to connect with death, visit the mind of a potential killer, to sit where the star of Electra Glide In Blue sat, all sorts of reasons. Plus, I was hungry.

So, What’s Up?

AZ ADVENTURE

I was in Arizona over Memorial Day. It solidified the theory that you can never go home again. It was never really my home, just a place where I lived for a few years. It had it’s ups and it had its downs, but overall it was a nice experience.

I was staying at my friend Laura’s house. She is the owner of dogs. Three dogs. Three very large, I mean big, dogs. I am not one of those people who sees a medium sized dog and claim it as large. I am not a fan of those toy dog things that seem to be so prevalent in Los Angeles. Whenever I see one, I feel like seeing what my punting skills are like. Anyway, back to the big dogs.

Two of them are greyhounds; she’s a greyhound freak. She has the Greyhound taxi sign on the side of her car and if I rummaged through her closet, which I pondered, I’d discover a t-shirt that reads, “Greyhounds do it with speed”.

She also owns a dog whose breed I can’t pin down. It falls under that, skittish but want to play, confused breeds.

So, I’m sleeping and I do one of those late night shifts in sleep, open eyes to adjust moves that I’m common of doing. Staring back at me with her head on the pillow is one of the greyhounds, Fortuna. This caused an instant reaction for me. See, Greyhounds have very long pointy-heads. Paint it orange and it looks like an orange traffic pylon.


(Fortuna as she looks regularly...


...and with traffic cone on head. You will notice that the color is really the only difference.)


They also have eyes that are large and look pinned back. My depth perception was off due to mid-sleep shifting and I get the impression that an eight-foot long dog head is staring at me. I jump a little, but Fortuna doesn’t move. She just keeps her head on the pillow and follows me with her eyes.

This was apparently the dogs way of playing alpha with ma and letting me know this was her house. Then she closed her eyes, stretched her legs out to jab me in the side and went back to sleep. Crazy fuckin’ dog.

VAN ON FIRE

I was back in CA for one day when a van outside the apartment decided it was time to end its run on this planet and mysteriously catch on fire. We smelled the smoke inside and started looking around to see if we were on fire. Went outside to see if the complex was on fire and discovered the van blazing out on the street. Fire trucks could be heard a couple of blocks away and all of the neighbors stood around, too close, watching it burn. The owner didn’t seem to be present and I think we were all around waiting to see the owner react more than we were there to watch the fire go out. Unfortunately all we got to see was the van melt down and not its owner.

The firemen were very nonchalant when it cam to putting the fire out. They stood around moving slowly to hook things up and looked bored when the hoses finally started up.

Overall, very uneventful, but it reminded me that I was really back in Los Angeles.

Wax On, Wax AAAAAAFFF

So I’m heading to Tucson and figure I might be getting some swimming time in, so I’m going through the whole modern male clean up process.

I am of Italian decent, southern Italy none the less, which means I am one of those animals that tends to run on the furry side. On a 1-10 scale, I’ll rate Robin Williams and Sasquatch at 10 and one of those people with "no hair" disease at 1. I fall into about a 5 category (yes ladies you may now be repulsed). Personally I dig the chest hair thing. It makes me feel grown up even though I act out like a third grader a lot.

So I hop on down to the Rite-Aid to pick up some removal cream. Now, I’ve done it in the past and this is not a fun chore. So I’m reading over a couple of products to find something new and preferably longer lasting. I garb a box of stuff that claims to be non-burning, all natural, blah, blah, blah.

I get home open it up and fuck me if it’s not a type of wax. Spatula, cloth strips the whole deal. Not what I wanted and no indication of it being listed as such on the box. But, I just shelled over the cash, so I’ll give it a shot.

If you have ever applied stuco to a wall, this is worse. The shit sticks to everything, it hurts going on and it’s impossible to get a decent spread, so you’re doing small areas at a time. Simple directions, apply with the grain of the hair, smooth down strip, quickly remove strip against the grain. Guaranteed no burning. There is that fucking no burning again. Yeah, thanks pal, I doubt burning is the problem I’m going to have here.

Count down, 3…2…1…YANK!

MUTHER FUKER!!!!!!!

Done! No more! I’ll blow the cash and go with the burning. This green gel strip of cloth is holding a patch of chest hair and you can actually see the ball at the end of the follicle that has been forced out of it’s home. My chest is bright red and I’ve got a couple of blood splots. It’s that “40 Year Old Virgin” scene and I don’t even have a little old asian lady to scream at.

Luckily I did it over my chest ink, so you can’t see the missing patch too clearly.

Vanity is not my friend.

Crazy Train

So my head has been all over the place the last few days and it doesn’t seem to be slowing down.

Lots up anger, lots of frustration. I’ve been keeping it in check, but really just haywire in my skull. I’ve been doing all of the things that I do to help figure out what the problem is.

It’s the 21st, so that means there are potentially sobriety date issues involved. Going back and forth on caffeine and trying to limit smoking that could be part of it. There is the subconscious turning 35 that might be involved. I may also have another kidney stone, which never helps. It has this way of sending the system in every possible direction.

Then there is the lack of exercise. I think, that my body has gotten so used to it that now I have to keep going in order help stay balanced. I’m sure my brain would go back to its slothful ways over a week or so, but it really seems to be fighting something.

I don’t think I’m having any real psych issues. (At least none that I am consciously aware of.) I’m fine on the money for now, I have a potential job, the show is a little stressful, but I’m finding answers to problems.

It’s probably a little of everything and I need to find the center again. It’s a lot like those little puzzles with the bee-bees inside. You’ve got to keep re-evaluating and make adjustments to try and get it in the clowns nose. It’s always just a fraction off and grows frustrating and you toss it across the room. My life is cardboard clown’s face with my sanity a little bee-bee. I’d toss myself across the room, but we’ve got hardwood floors and I’m wearing shorts. I hate skinned up knees…unless there is crazy sex involved.

35 Up

So I’m officially 35. Holy shit!

It’s actually a good day so far. Conversation with a beautiful woman, bought a couple of DVD’s. Gabe decided to tell everyone it’s my birthday, so I’m getting “old fart” e-mails. Look’s like Gabe needs another beating. You’d think he would have learned after the first one I gave him for being Hispanic.

I’ve only been feeling one piece of trauma and that’s going to the gym. I’m blowing it off today and going crazy eating In-N-Out and El Compadres for dinner. Plus there was a Twix and a bag of Smart Food I’ll tear into tonight when I’m watching one of my flicks.

The gym thing is simple. Whenever I get on the treadmill it asks for all sorts of info. Duration of walk/run, weight, age, incline. It’s the age thing that’s odd. I’ve spent the last year entering 34 and watching me decrease the weight info. Now I have to up the age. It is actually stressing me out a little. I want the machine to flash a message through its LED’s telling me that 35 is the new 25 or something. So tomorrow I’ll face my biggest challenge.

I’ve also had a couple thoughts about stopping the podcast. I realized it was because I’m afraid of the challenge. It comes bubbling up into my brain as boredom, but I realize I’m just scared of finding the challenge of making the episode better. So I stepped up and started looking for new things to try. I’m enjoying the process of strengthening these problem-solving powers. It’s a necessary thing to do if you want to create and it’s a very important thing to do as you get older, keep learning and stretching.

Example: Clint Eastwood. This guy could have still been making mediocre movies and starring across an orangutan if he wanted. Instead he sets his political beliefs aside and starts looking at the world with fresh eyes. He could have stopped and simply made “Flags Of Our Fathers”, but when given the inspiration of making a companion film from the Japanese perspective, he dove right in and made a really great film that far surpasses it’s predecessor. This guy is in his late 70’s early 80’s (I think) and just doing remarkable work.

I should take a page from good ol’ Clint’s book and just keep growing. I’d rather keep moving in that direction than wondering how much longer my dick is going to work.

Oh man, how much longer is my dick going to work?

Give A Little Bit pt. 2

You are right anonymous reader. I did cheat you and basically shit all over it with my empty pimping of the podcast.

So I’m here to apologize.

I will no longer use the podcast in any more entries unless it is organic.

So that being said I will tell you a black out story that has nothing to do with electricity.

My good friend Jack was living with me for a while and we were drinking buddies. Now jack drinks, but I DRINK…DRANK.

So one night we picked up a bottle of Whiskey from the local Safeway. It was some cheap shit that had a deer on the label and the catch phrase, “Master Of All He Surveys”. Yeah, good stuff. And you do feel like you are master of all you survey after finishing off a bottle of it with some pills and a couple of joints. As a matter of fact you see double of all that you survey. That’s a lot to master!

All right, we drive back to the house after drinking by the bay and our roommate (not to be named) and her boyfriend are home. Jack and I are smashed and we’re loud and all that crap. We’re burning disks of each other's music, talking film, relationships and all the other stuff you do when you are drunk and not in the back of a police car.

At some point I say I’m going to get something from my room and as soon as I see the bed, it’s nighty-night for John-O.

I wake up the next morning around 8ish and feel like garbage. Dragging myself out to the kitchen, I start the day with a six-pack and I’m feeling good again. Jack wakes up at about 10 and unnamable roommate and boyfriend had left before I got up.

Jack asks if I heard the roomie and beau banging away in the middle of the night. I slept right through it. Now let me preface this by saying that the unnamable were not an attractive couple. When I say unattractive, I mean fucking ugly. Like one gene away from Elephant men… All right not that bad, but not attractive, accept to each other. Jack launches into the story of the screaming and shouting and verbal stuff that I have thankfully blocked out. I do believe at one point the phrase, “hammer down” was used, but I can’t be sure.

So I was then and am now very grateful to have been blacked out during those festivities. It would have been one of those visuals that would scar me for life.

And in a way this story wraps back around to last night’s entry of love, sex and black outs.

Fine, so it doesn't, but it does have all the elements of sex, drugs and rock & roll.

Give A Little Bit

So, I’ve been having a lot of “love” coincidences recently. This isn’t about my love life or anything sappy, just some very bizarre moments that have made me think about the subject of love.

Incident #1: I was given a book to read called KILLING YOURSELF TO LIVE by Chuck Klosterman. It’s a "kind of" true story about this reporter from Spin magazine traveling across the country visiting locations where famous rock stars have died. He spends most of it contemplating the women in his life and what they have meant to him. He ponders love and all that it entails. I had just finished the chapter where that giant black out happened in NYC and instead of riots or crazy shit happening, every one just danced and partied and enjoyed each other. This lead directly into…

Incident #2: I spent the rest of the evening watching SHORTBUS. It’s the John Cameron Mitchell movie that has real sex in it. It’s main focus is on the balancing of emotional and physical love. A good movie, not great, but well worth the time (if you can deal with guys swallowing their own jizm.) Now the climax of the film, (pun intended) is when everyone’s lives have gone nuts and things are at there lowest, the NYC black out happens.

“Huh”, I say to myself, “That’s some pretty weird coincidental psycho-nutsy- stuff happening.” Two things both dealing with love, relationships and the NYC black out are tossed at me on the same day.

So where do I stand on this. I know love is a human creation, designed to represent emotions that make us feel hopeful and strong. The feelings that keep us going versus the feelings that tear our brain from our skulls when we know we are just spots of dust on the edge of the void. Love is a good thing. Love heals… kind of.

So I walk out to the living room thinking about these two things that have happened and all of this pondering I am doing about the nature of love when I turn on the tv and what is on?

Incident #3: 2046 by Wong Kar-Wai. Kar-Wai is the most romantic filmmaker in the world. He doesn't make, "hope-filled-gooey-ain’t-love-grand-full of fluffy-bunnies" crap. He makes films about love that deal with the great ups and all of the frustrating messy parts that are a part of any relationship. It’s awesome, because you feel so much for the good times and completely understand the arguments and why people can’t say what they feel; because they might not understand those feelings yet.

It was the embodiment of everything that had been passing through my skull that night, after all of this philosophizing that had been tossed on me. All of this in a four-hour period, just nuts, right?

Love is great, love sucks, love is messy and convoluted and you can’t live without it. Well you can, but then life gets kind of boring.

Now I’m going to screw this up by going all shallow on you.
Check out the Film Geek Primer podcast. This week we talk about Russ Meyer. Nothing about love in it, but it does have boobs. And who doesn’t love boobs?

And Now For Something Completely Typical

I think I am one of those people who do better on the phone or through e-mail than I do in real life.

Maybe I’m underestimating myself. Yeah, I’m underestimating myself. Change of topic.

Have I ever cheated on a girlfriend? Yes. Did I enjoy it? Yes. Like I’m supposed to lie here. It had nothing to do with that, "stuck with the same person" shtick that you get with so many people having an affair. I wanted the rush and that’s what I got. This is truly the sign of a person with an addictive personality. I’ll say that because I don’t think I’m one of those “X-treme” types of guys. I don’t need to jump out of a hot air balloon with a bungee-chord velcroed to my balls to get a thrill. Hmmm, well I might try it once.

Why am I bringing this up? I dunno, why not.

Have I ever used a needle? No. Does that leave a lot of things open that I have done? Yes. Are there a lot of things I’ve done that nobody knows about? Kind of. It’s parsed amongst several people who would never be in the same room together. Friends, relatives, ex’s, drunks and junkies (both practicing and clean) put them all together and they could tell you all about me. But that would never happen.

Did I ever tell you about Helen? She was my crack whore neighbor. No? Nice lady, a little out of it, crazy as a cockroach on raid. Once after we’d smoked a couple of bowls and downed some silver bullets, she tried to give my roommate Billy a lap dance. Helen was about four foot six and three hundred plus pounds. Billy was five-eleven and maybe one-forty. It was not pretty, to say the least.

One time I was interviewing Helen with my video camera, for posterity. We were talking about misadventures and the embolism that almost killed her. I got up to go grab some more beer. Actually it was malt liquor that day. Steel Reserve, give it a try, it’s awful. So I’m in the kitchen, come back out and we resume the idle chat. I’m watching the tape later and I hit the spot where Helen was alone and I’m speeding through it but she starts talking to the camera. I rewind to check this out. Her face gets serious and her neck gets frighteningly long as she stretches her head towards the camera. Then with one of the truest threats I have ever heard, she says, “And you will never take my John away from me, Christina Aguilera!”

Huh? I’m not sure where that came from. There was never any talk about Ms. Aguilera or any kind of clue as to why this statement was necessary. For some reason in Helen’s head, a video camera was somehow a link to the pop star and just in case Christina were out there watching this somehow, Helen wanted to make it very clear that I was not going to be hers. My three hundred pound crack whore, keeping me safe from the floozies of the world.

Though I would have liked to have seen that fight. Hair extensions would have flown that day, I tell you.

Specific Thoughts About Nothing

Can’t sleep, feeling random. I think it was the sugar that did it. I haven’t had processed sugar in a couple of weeks and tonight I loaded up on Snickers and Twix. Why? Because I could; So shove that existentialist point of view up your snout.

When you’re a straight guy and you get to spend time talking to a woman. That’s a good thing, makes you feel a little better about yourself.

When you are used to spending weekends cutting shows together and for the first time in several weeks you have nothing to cut. It’s an odd feeling; like something is missing and you can’t quite place your finger on it.

When you throw a grenade into a friend’s car because you have to kill him for fear that he’s going to rat you out to Forest Whitaker; you know you’ve been watching a lot of The Shield.

When you think about someone who you haven’t been in contact with for over ten years, but the thought of them makes you smile; you know they were a special person to you.

When you wonder why there are more questions to life then answers, you know you’re truly growing.

When you find yourself jerking off more than three times a day, you need to find a better hobby.

When you’re a kid on the playground and the other kids wont play with you, wait until high school and slit their tires.

When your boss is a true asshole and you want out of the job, don’t forget to empty the register on your way out the door.

When you’re bored and get tired of surfing the net, go re-watch Film Geek Primer.

When your last “when” is about plugging your own podcast, it’s time to hang it up and try to go to sleep again.

Right after I go slit the tires of this douche bag across the street.

Busy, Busy, Busy…And Not Making A Dime

That’s how it goes in the world today, I guess. Anything you want to do, you do for free. Anything you have to do, there’s a possible paycheck involved.

It’s been an odd past few days. Someone has decided to be me and charge their medical bills to my checking account. Since someone is impersonating me, it makes me wonder what I am stricken with. Maybe I have meta-polio or meta-herpes.

Life is a lot easier when you can add meta to the front of it. Think of the worst thing possible and then add meta to it. Meta-cancer, meta-AIDS, meta-overdue bills, meta-kick to the crotch. No big deal, right? It’s all “play it as it lays” in the metaverse.

So my other me is out there right now buying artificial limbs or prescription drugs with my cash, real cash not meta-cash, and I get to revel in the fact that my medical problems are just meta. This makes me feel a little better about this violation of my bank account. It’ll all get fixed and I’ll get my money back. My doppelganger will be happy with his or her new quad-cane and the only people who end up screwed is the medical company who didn’t check for id. I guess it could be tough to ask for a guy’s wallet when he has no arms and you’re holding his prosthetics in a bag waiting for his card to be approved.

All right, back to life. Screw that, I’m going back to my meta-life. Tonight I’m going to get meta-laid after making some major meta-cash and hit Nico Nico for some awesome meta-sushi.

Actually sushi sounds good…Oh, right no real money.

Old Projects

Here are a couple of pieces I did for The Megan Mullally Show web site that were never put up for various reasons.






This one was put up because it was very show-centric.




Hope you enjoyed them.

Thanks Faceless Readers

I know there are people out there who I know personally that read this. I also know that there are people I don’t know who read this. It’s what happens when you toss stuff out into the bolgosphere (I have no idea how it’s spelled. I’m just using my own twisted logic).

But over the past few days, my podcast (Film Geek Primer) has been getting traffic from the link (in the sidebar) and I just want to say thanks to anybody who checks it out. We’re not making a dime off this thing (yet) and it’s really more a labor of love. We really enjoy doing it and hope people really enjoy watching it. It’s not perfect, but with a budget of zero dollars, it’s not total crap either.

I’m always looking to improve and I appreciate creative criticism. When you’re deeply involved you miss certain things. I know Schu isn’t always that clear because he’s over the phone and I’m working on that, you’ll see how much more improved it is in the next couple of episodes.

They’ll only get better as we get more creative and start pushing the limits of what we think we can do. That’s what life is all about. Push those limits, baby!

So drop me an email either from here or the website and let me know what you think. Even a scathing review is more helpful than silence.

So thank you I really am grateful that people are checking it out. And to our Canadian, Chinese and Malaysian viewers…what’s the weather like over there?

Just an Update

I’ve been lazy and not keeping up to date with this blog. My apologies to anyone who is in desperate need of reading material.

I’ve been working nonstop on the new podcast because it’s so much damn fun. We’ve got two episodes up, two in the can and scripts for two more that are going to be shot this weekend.

All of us who are working on it are having a blast and it’s become quite the creative community that we’re forming to try to make a better show each week.

As for me, life moves on. I’m hoping that a job will come along soon, but my Unemployment just kicked in so I’ll have money for the next few months, which takes a lot of weight off.

Nikki and I have stopped seeing each other because she has gotten to the point where she wants a relationship and it’s something that I just can’t handle at this point in time. We’ll probably go back to being friends in the near future, but right now our emotions are just a little too sensitive to talk to each other. It’s too bad really. I think she’s a great person and I enjoy spending time with her. The emotions just aren’t there though and I’d rather not be in a relationship with her than be in a lie. It’s no good for either of us and I want her to find someone that could reciprocate. Oh, well.

So, what’s next for me? Well, I’m just doing the show, keeping my skills sharp, smoking again (awful), and moving forward.

That’s really all there is at this time. Sorry I couldn’t supply any juicier information, but it’s really just me and the show right now.

John: Year One

That’s right folks, one year ago today I was on the road in my U-Haul blazing my trail down to Los Angeles. It’s been an interesting ride since then and a very educational one as well. I’ve learned a little bit about myself and a little bit about the industry in which I wish to serve. There have been some bumps along the way and there have been some major highs as well.

So how should I celebrate this occasion? Hmm, what could I do to make it special. Not just for me, but you my fellow readers as well?


I’ll tell you what. Let’s make today a turning point. A new endeavor that we can go on together. That sounds like it could be fun, no?

Well folks, today I am happy to announce the launching of a new podcast. It has been put together by: Myself, Gabe, Aaron and Schu. We’ve spanned two states to get this sucker together and today on the anniversary of my landing in Los Angeles we launch.

This is a video podcast called Film Geek Primer and it’s just that, a show that teaches you how to be a film geek.

So,

CHECK OUT THE SHOW!

We’ve got four episodes in the can, are shooting new ones on a weekly basis, and will be putting up a new one each week. We have a place on MySpace, so add us to your friends list. We need all the help we can get.

We’ll also be available through itunes and other pod feeds, so keep your eyes open.

The object is to create a community so a forum and a wiki are being set up to create an environment that everyone can play around with and help us build a great film geek database.

We’ll also be taking polls on what shows we should make and you will be able to vote in our upcoming “Geek Fights”. Fun stuff. So if you like movies and enjoy a bunch of guys making fools of their own existence, be sure to book mark the site and watch it weekly or subscribe through other sources.

One year and I’ve accomplished something. Not bad. Lets see what will happen over the next 12 months and see if something fun comes out of it, or will I fall into that spiral of shame and cast my soul into the vortex.

(That’s my cliffhanger!)

Cheers y’all and here’s to another year of growth and… uh, growth.

Lost In Translation

So about a month ago I responded to this add on Craig’s List. A woman was looking for someone to run lines with. I responded for the hell of it and got a phone call about an hour later. Her Name is Eriko and we chatted for a bit. She’s from Japan and her English is decent, but she needs time to process what you’re saying so it is best to speak slow…not an easy job for someone with a machine gun mouth. I’m not as bad as a Scorsese or the guy from the Micro Machine adds, but I’m pretty rapid fire.

So we finish our conversation and she asks me to call her back on Sunday, I call back, get nothing but a busy signal for the few times I try and give up. Move on.

This afternoon I get a phone call from her to ask if I could meet for coffee and see if I, "can be of use to her". So I go to Starbucks to meet her and she’s pretty damned stunning. We are talking for a few minutes and I can see that there is a bit of a communications problem. My assignment: Help her work through a couple of questions she has to Ask Halle Berry for some interview an the local Japanese station. She has to get to another meeting, but wants to meet later this evening to go over them.

She callsa little while later to say her meeting is running late and will call me back. I take this as the Japanese polite thing where they can’t tell you “Thanks, but no thanks”. Whatever, I’ve got movies to watch.

Around 9:30 I get a call from her and she asks for some help on a question she needs to ask Ms. Berry. So I am trying to explain to her that the question she is asking does not sound polite and needs some rephrasing, but she keeps telling me that I did not understand what she wanted.

Here’s the question she wrote:

“I read when you moved to Los Angeles you lived in a shelter, what were you thinking?”

Now I understood what she was trying to ask. She wanted to know what was going on in Halle’s head as she was experiencing the situation of living in a shelter. Not, “You idiot, why would you stay in a shelter?” But my attempts to explain this just frustrated her. She kept saying, “I’m from Japan.” Yeah, honey, got it, no road map needed. I worked on talking slow and carefully explained that the way she had phrased it was rude. Rudeness is something the Japanese understand. They cut off fingers and jump off rooftops because of the whole respect thing, so rude should be right up her ally.

So finally she says that she would really like to work with me and when a script comes in, she’ll give me a call so I can help her learn her lines and “explain” what is going on. This situation though needs someone who will simply phrase the question and that’ll be it. No problem. I got a free coffee out of it and hung out with a hot Japanese girl for a bit. I wasn’t doing anything important and there were worse things I could have done with my time.

On a whim I decide to look her up on line and see what results I get. Come to find out this chic was a fucking superstar in Japan who has come to America to make it big. She was the Britney Spears of Japan and was in a ton of television and even had a cartoon about her.

So now three things run through my brain. First, I bet almost every teenage guy in Japan would have castrated himself to sit where I sat today. Second. I’m not sure anymore if her issue was a language barrier or much like Ms. Spears, the poor thing just ain’t that bright. The third and one I find most noggin numbing, maybe she really did want to know what the hell was Halle thinking about staying in a shelter. There are a ton of decent hotels around after all.

The English-speaking world may never know.