as close as i am with lewis carroll, i don't call them looking glasses

i have a short to write.

not so much having a short to write, but more like i have to write a short. it is requisite, it must be done.

ha. seriously, ha. have to do something? me? have to do something? me? maybe you should go look me up in your who's-who-among-people-who-don't-give-a-frick. yeah, look it up. bad picture but it gets the idea across.

i'm reading neil gaiman. i'm liking things so far, but i'm just about finished and i have the sinking feeling that he's going to pull an arthur c. clarke in that the climb up the mountain is fantastic but once you get up top you're kinda thinking "yeah. so yeah. yeah. well, um, yeah. this is mostly...well it's the top of a mountain, isn't it. not much going on. yeah. so, yeah. hmm. mountain, huh? yeah. yeah see it's the top, i get that, but...yeah. so. yeah." almost word for word, that digression, from when i finished a fair bit of clarke series.

nothing going on today. which i guess is nice. but i'm getting used to being busy, or at least having my hands covered in pie (a finger in every pie? get it? meaning i'm doing lots of different things? get it?) so downtime is a bit like thinking "yeah. so yeah. yeah. down time, huh? well, um, yeah. this is mostly...well not much going on, huh? yeah, down time. so, yeah. time that's, um, down and stuff. yeah. pie, huh? that's interesting. yeah. yeah."

but otherwise it's been getting busier and busier. i'm sitting here and knowing how much good there is, what chances i have, what a time awaits me. but it's all in the distance and i look through binoculars at a life that is not my own.

a bit like wonderland, maybe. but i can't stand smiling cats. they distract too much from my being distracted.

i prefer my stuffers in fishnets, thank you

buying presents.

the thing with buying presents is that you like to buy them. well, if you're me or many of the people i know. or if you're santa. or if you're mother teresa. or if you're a parent. or if you're a grandparent. or if you a big brother. or if you're a little sister. or if you're a girlfriend. or if you're a mentor. or if you're poor. or if you'recently weathly. or if you have lots of wrapping paper. or if you want lots of wrapping paper. or if you're a greeting-card writer. or if you're a greeting-card publisher. or a greeting-card marketer. or if you're me.

the thing with buying presents is that you put the extra effort sometimes that will, quite frankly, go unknown, unseen, and unheard. but who the heckums cares, anyway (let's not cuss with the holidays right around the corner. right there, on the corner. hiding behind the lamppost. pipe in mouth, gloves and hat and smile on face).

proper present buying is an art, obviously. but subtle and without the extensive training requisite of the classical arts. instead, it is an air mixed of observation, creativity, timing, preparation, intuition, and plain luck. true of the others, yes, but distinctive all the same.

the art has been good. i like.

plans are in the works. dealing with the film, dealing with the production company, dealing with UPS (see the previous posts, reader. it's something, to be sure). dealing dealing dealing, the lady's got a pair of queens, the gentleman with the fedora just scored pocket aces.

more stuff and stuff. the equipment is all here now, now we have to prep auditions for the killer and interview crew. but that's all in january, folks...for right now it's buying presents.

the thing with buying presents is that you have to have a tree under which to place them. but the thing with christmas trees is that, not only do they cost money, they also cost space. meaning the apartment is a little less than little. meaning that there just isn't room for a twenty footer if you know what i mean.

wink wink. nudge. nudge.

so a trip to ace hardware on a whim (next to the subway that my father used to own. the ace hardware that kept me entertained for hours and hours and days and days, during all those times being babysat by a 13 inch television and maps of manhattan on the walls of the franchise. the ace hardware where i dreamt of owning swiss army knives and wire cutters, voltmeters and all sorts of funny lookin' tools) threw me into the world of faux trees and far too many decorative lights.

but a little searching and i found them; little lawn trees, fake little ones with a minimum of built-in lighting and a central trunk of wire that is meant to jut down into the ground and keep the little guy planted in the dirt. they come in two to a box. the perfect size and two of them, to boot.

but meanwhile at the office a crisis has been averted. what crisis? the coffee crisis.

the thing with the coffee crisis is that it's not a full-fledged crisis. it's more of a problematic problem. an itch. a scabby scab. a loose thread that just needs to be picked. etcetera.

this scab revolved around having to leave the building to get any decent coffee. this loose thread is wrapped within the sweater that is francise coffeehouses. no coffee at work is worth a second glance, simple as that. as un-elitist as i am when it comes to the stuff (shut up) i nevertheless like to drink coffee that hasn't been burnt or sitting in a vending machine, thank you very much.

so what do i do? i buy a bag, bring it back, and make my own. any time, at any point. there are coffeemakers in the lounge, there is plenty of space to do my whole lets-make-coffee dance, there's even a sink and junk. crisis? averted.

but the coffee escapades coupled with presents, joined with movie plans, epoxied with production problems, superglued with house buying, nailed to dry cleaning problems, paperclipped with car problems, all hanging from a mop of ever-longer hair and tongue-on-flag-pole stuck on my continual scruffiness...see now i forgot what the point of the paragraph was.

see the thing with blogging is, you gotta keep it short. yeah.

the wall will always end, no matter how high you want to climb it

so i'm at work, right?

sitting here at work, right? so i'm here, at work, sitting here at work, and i decide to check on the boxes. the equipment. the film equipment, in boxes. coming via UPS. three boxes came yesterday, 11 more yesterday.

11 boxes, very expensive boxes. 11 boxes, all left outside, all huddling on a lawn on the verge of rain overhead. 11 boxes, all full of film equipment, left on the lawn, the delivery confirmation FORGED BY THE DELIVERY GUY in his effort to just not come back the next day.

11 boxes and a forged signature. what can i say about UPS? nothing, it seems. nothing at all. because all the angry phone calls, all the waiting and the managers and the peons and the back and forth and back and forth and back again...the end result? there is no end result.

work has been full days. full days and full nights and full full full. for two days at least. come on, stay and stay and stay and leave and sleep. and come back.

roomie and self went out for sushi, good and good and good. the nights are coming along, the days are full and taut. i'm feeling good. the movie is soon to come and i have to set up things. but i come home and feel so relaxed and at home.

i sing songs.

i finally feel like i'm on the verge of making or breaking myself. living on the edge of a cliff where i fall over or drive all the way back to some place i've never known. i feel like there's undiscovered territory at every junction.

all while working 50 hour weeks. all while planning new years parties and buying film equipment.

what's weird is how i feel weird talking about it. shy, i guess. when people ask me "what's the movie about" or "what's your company do?" i tend to start shrieking internally. it's unnoticable until ten minutes later, clammy hands and cold sweats. wiping my brow and all that jazz.

and the company now has a new name.

i finally feel like i'm in a modicum of control. and now all i need to do is just find a gym. i'm learning new things at work: legacy stuff, coding stuff, analysis stuff. inter-employee-sorta-kinda-stuff. and so on. i'm finally coming to grips with the things i didn't want to think about.

but see, i need to write shorts. something short, horror or scifi or even a western. something, anything, just a short to shoot.

learning that things don't turn out the way you want, but i'm prepared for that. so maybe i'm not learning it at all.

but most of all, i smile ever time a christmas song starts up.

that house of pancakes doesn't seem very international to me

perhaps someday there will be a little plaque outside, a neat little copper-colored mix of metals. a plaque that details in fine and simple letters the fact that our band of few patroned this establishment so regularly as to have practically laid its brick and mortar. perhaps there will be a little plaque, or a sign. maybe just some plants or something.

or a statue. yeah, like a really big and matte and imposing statue. titanium, or something.

it snowed this weekend. lots of snow. it's the kind of sight that makes me remember things with that foggy recollection of hopes and dreams. the kind where you go "this reminds me of that...thing. you know, with the guy." the not-so-memorable memories. anyway, snow. snow that i looked at while driving to ihop, snow i looked at while at ihop. snow and snow and snow and snow.

i met with the director, our new hair/makeup person, and a few other friends from times past and present. it's been awhile, so it was nice to get together and laugh and laugh and blah bippity blah blah. the suggestion was even made to throw a hotel party, all the gang getting a big room and just having a space where you know you'll have fun amongst friends. so i'm gonna look into it.

afterwards? came home and all that. today some boxes came, three of them. the film equipment is either going to trickle or tsunami, what with there being thirteen boxes or so in all. it's all so terribly exciting, yes, but i've been up late and just can't get the will to wail and wow myself over such things. yawn.

otherwise, i've decided i need a new name for the company. my previous company name met with distasteful glares and confusion, and even some multi-colored remarks about my ability to fornicate with myself. but sunday took the wind out of whatever sails i have...the ihop audience was not impressed. the constant barrage of discouraging responses was basically a sign to realize when to just let go. so i let go, and i'm thinking of new names for the company.

i've even been twiddling with ideas to change the movie title...gasp. no, seriously, gasp. i'm asthmatic, shut up. jerk.

right, whatever. anyway, ideas and ideas and ideas. more ideas and scratching out ideas and erasing the scratching out then scratching out again with a deeper scratch...you get the idea. the topmost concern was whether or not to keep a 'THE' at the beginning of the title.

think about it, what if it had been named just "Wizard of Oz" or "Shawshank Redemption" or "Green Mile"...but, by the same token, what if they had been named "The Top Gun" or "The Magnolia" or "The Fight Club"...there's a subtle art here, friends, and it should not be taken lightly, to say the least.

but sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and no one puts it as well as the brother did when asked about the "THE":

"fuck articles, man."

i salute you, bruh. wholeheartedly.

what kind of clay is that stuff made out of, anyway?

the intentions of mankind are myriad and unwavering in their attempts to appease the ego. i do what i do because i want to do what i do. i do what i do because i'm a sick and twisted mass of sapienic flesh that is only concerned with the self.

what a load of crock. and i don't mean the pottery.

i don't care what anybody says, 90% of the things i do in a day are for somebody else. mostly because i don't give two whiffs about myself and because i'm more concerned with the people i care about. it is my job to take care of those who are placed in my care, intentionally or not. it is my way to simply help those around me feel better about any part of their day.

which, again, may be a load of crock.

there is always the convoluted mess that vomits out of any interpretation of these things. the fact that doing things for others so that you feel better about yourself is really just helping yourself. the fact that doing things for others to do things for others to do things for others to make everyone all happy-go-lucky is really just a pathetic god-complex hiding behind a mask of benevolence even though it's all just wanting to make yourself feel superior and pedegogical.

there is always the narcissim behind the saint, the saint behind the narcissist, and all the foggy malfeasance on the part of your righteous intelligence.

and then there's the pedantic ramblings of a goofball who barely wants to make sense.

i say gooday, sir

haha.

christmas songs are awesome, simple done.

taking two hours to get to work 20 miles away is ridiculous, period.

realizing that i'm happy for people that...well for people that i wasn't thinking i'd be happy for in the past is splendiferous, end of story.

and looking at the next year from this end is just as exciting as it gets.

over and out.

crash, maybe not so much with the burning

new new new new new.

what's new? well, lots of stuff. this week, at least.

i have bought all our film equipment. and i mean ALL. lights and lights and flags and nets, mics and mixers and monitors. a tripod stand, XLR cable. headphones.

ladies and gentlemen and ladies...we are now in business.

of course it's a matter of time, waiting a week or so for everything to get here. but we can officially start on working now, filming and shooting and writing and directing, acting here and gripping there. what's my motivation? what's my motivation?

monday, though, was intensely uncool. sunday night, you see, i spent at the director's house, until roughly 4:30am, going over every single piece of equipment that i bought, making sure there was nothing to miss and nothing to switch.

came home, slept an hour or so, and off to work. halfway down the street i accept and come to grips with the fact that my cell phone is upstairs in the apartment, all warm and powered and whatnot. but i left it and headed out, more concerned with traffic times than the location of my phone. big mistake, of course, but that comes later. i took my break to order all the equipment, the various processes taking hours and hours and hours to confirm that the order had gone through. order numbers and phone numbers and validation and confirmation. when you drop so much money there's red tape, you see. and i was wrapped up in so much of it you might have well called me tapey-mctape. (fine, so that was a lame nickname. just let go of it, already. sheesh)

so then, lunch. on my way to lunch? my tire falls off my car.

cough. MY TIRE FALLS OFF MY CAR. disentegrates, falls apart. hanging off the wheels, little strings coming off the checkerboard underneath the rubber. kathunk, kathunk, screech boom skraaaaaaaaaaaaclump. the embarassed looks as i pulled into the jewel parking lot (right across the street from my dad's old store, to boot).

mind you, monday was cold. very very cold. subzero temps and me without anything but a coat and very thin slacks. so i go into jewel and call my dad to see if he can pick up the car (being that i borrowed it from him for the week, of course) but given that my cell phone was at home i had to use the pay phone in jewel.

pause. just to ask, is it common knowledge that pay phones are now $0.75 FOR THE FIRST THREE MINUTES????? after that's another $0.50 or something like that. so it comes as no surprise that i had only three quarters on me, and hadn't finished planning my rescue within three minutes on the phone. forget this, i think. i'm just gonna walk back to work and call from there and not worry about anything until later today.

yeah. right. not only was work two miles away, temperatures subzero, me cold already even in the store...not only all that, i didn't even know how to get back without taking the highway. which became a moot point after about 3/4 of a mile, because i find out by then (after trekking through my share of knee-high snow banks and bundles) that the ONLY way to make it further south without some horrendous detour is to cross the highway.

double yeah. triple right. so i head back to the jewel, manage to get some change from a guy outside, all sighing and thinking that things might smooth out now.

when i walk right into the glass automatic door. smack, smoosh. blumph.

back to the payphone, quarters in one hand and my nose in the other. call the dad, get things settled, and wait half an hour. he gets there, i get to work, and things progress.

without my cell phone, though, things started falling all over the place again. not only could i not call my credit card company to let them know that i hadn't recieved my new card in the mail (because i don't have my new account number and, hence, couldn't navigate the voice menu), the only way i knew how to was to call with my cell phone, since that was the number they had on file for me.

throw in some more being-cold stuff, a dash of film equipment mayhem, and that's pretty much the day. the rest of the week went along alright, more changes to my order; i switched mics and shockmounts and boompole, juggled credit around a bit, and basically kept chugging along and here i am.

last week i wrote up a new scene for the film. a quick insert that will drastically help with character development, i think, and a new way for me to throw a few controvertial subjects around while i'm at it.

as for this weekend, there's gradschool apps, more writing, cleaning and cleaning and writing and eating. waiting for the equipment, waiting to hear from companies. waiting for a lot of stuff and waiting for a little stuff.

while i'm waiting i've been rehashing the recent past. looking at my old spec for Scrubs, looking at some old letters and notes. looking to see if some friends were on, wondering what i would do if they were. realizing that i saw two movies since i got home and i'm just not all jumpy to see another one. thinking about all that i still have left to do, and how exciting that is.

this look is the best thing i can to do phase myself right now. there's not a soul on the planet who's unfamiliar with me as clean-cut, the three-piece kinda guy with a penchant for talking the way he writes. but now i still walk around with the slacks and tie, the wool topcoat and the shoes and the whole bit...

...all with this mop on my head and shag on my chin. a clean hippie, or something. shirt and tie and slacks and shoes, coupled with disheveled hair and longer-than-stubble stubble. it's kinda weird.

and we all know how much i like weird. score.