I WON WEDNESDAY.

FUCKING TOOTH AND NAIL BUT I WON.

Behold my fucking battle!

I slept little, yes, FAR less than a normal would!

And then I awoke far too early for a human to function, but once I had awoken.
You know, I'm too tired for this faux artistry bullshit.

I had a booking at 10, an audition at noon and then another booking at 1.

My milk was sour so I enjoyed a breakfast of dry Cheerios.
Hey, guess what...fuck dry Cheerios.
And yes there are people starving in blah blah blah, but dry Cheerios are still fucking awful.

The first booking was yet another Comcast...or so I thought...
It turns out that they gave me a completely new script ushering in their completely new advertising angel, namely: "This is awesome."
Yes, Comcast's new thing is: this is awesome.

I got to say: "This is HBO/Showtime on Xfinity. This is awesome" about forty different ways.
And, honestly, it was awesome.
Partly because that was actually pretty funny (certainly compared to "unlock the best entertainment with HBO/Showtime on Xfinity") and partly because this might mean another year and a half of working with Digitas and going in once a month or so in order to exchange some of the golden honey that is my voice for cold, hard cash-fucking-money.

Then across town to the Uncomfortable Place to audition for a web video for the CDC.
I had to sign an NDA, but I can say that it was not not about the coming zombie plague outbreak and what one should do if bitten (hint: panic).
Man would it be cool to have the CDC on my resume.
I'm a big fan of their work in The Stand and The Walking Dead and Contagion.
Too bad things don't always turn out well for them...

Then, as I had just enough time to eat, I ATE.
Specifically a Chickacavo sandwich from Lenny's.
Yes, it's chicken and avocado.
Not just chicken and avocado.
There was bread too.
BREAD.

Then, as I still had twenty minutes to kill, I walked, very, very slowly to the Best Buy about half a block away and then, very, very slowly to the Blu-Rays where I picked up Hunger Games.

Then, onto my second booking of the day, a quick half hour at Bang for some Speakaboos stuff. I did one line as the giant that got overlooked last time, some more narrator stuff and then three little boy voices.
Oh, and a police radio dispatcher.
Actually, this was just heartwarming...so, the guy who had written the police dispatcher didn't really have a voice in mind, so I did a really standard "voice". After we'd done those lines, they asked if I wanted to try anything and I did this gruff, put upon, Brooklyn accented guy and they seemed to dig it.
When I got out, the guy who had written this character said he'd had nothing in mind for the voice, but that he loved me choice, and then, the creative director guy who I've worked with since this project started said, "Yeah, why would we give some normal guy to you? You always do the cool stuff."
And that felt great.
(pet the pretty show horse, brush him and give him honeyed oats)

Then I got home and had twenty minutes to scream at how I had no time to shower or nap, then I went to work.

Thusly: I have won Wednesday.

But...what could be next for me?

Well, at four o'clock Thursday morning (in about seven hours) Chris and I have to go to the airport to fly to Chicago (2.5 hours) and then to Alaska (5.5 hours).
So.
Since I'm getting home no earlier than 11:30 and I have yet to pack ANYTHING for my five day trip, I am going to take it easy, maybe watch a little something, pack my bag, then around 2am or so, shower, dress and eat some food.
Then, off to the Great White Shark North.
That's right, I'm not sleeping.
Now, perhaps you're thinking, "Well, that shouldn't be too awful...you can always sleep on the plane..."
FUCK YOU, imaginary reader, I say, FUCK YOU.
I'm six feet eight inches tall and airplanes are made for people who are five feet one inches tall, so FUCK YOU, I say again, I will NOT be getting any sleep on the plane.
So HA!
HA!
Rather, I shall ascend to Alaska, like a drop of dew aloft a leaf, and there I shall bite the tits off God.

MMMMMAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSAAAAAAAGGGGGGEEEEEE MMMMMYYYYYYYY CCRRREEMMMMMAAAASSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTEEEEEEEERRRRRRRR!

How do you do this EVERY DAY?

I woke up at 7:30 this morning for a VO session at 9. And I wondered out loud to myself...how can people function like this? THE SHADOWS WERE ALL WRONG. Now I am going to watch some X-Files, eat lunch and take a nap. If this EVER happens again, I am going to lose my mind. You Daylighter freaks.

Welcome to the Machine

Here’s a(nother) glimpse of my inner churnings and bubblings…
************************************************************************
It’s 12:33 AM 8/19/04
There’s this security guard here, Arrington (or maybe Herrington) and he is FURIOUS.
The phone rings: “Man, what the fuck!!”, there is a knock at the door, “Shit, what the fuck!?”, Somebody asks him to hand them something, “Nigga, what the fuck?!”
Also, his back hurts. How do I know? I’m NOT…a doctor (but I am a real Worm….) But Mr. Arrington has this subtle manner in which he expresses himself.
Someone says, “What’s up?” “Man, my fuckin’ back hurse!!”, the same phone rings again, “Shit, my fuckin’ back hurse!!”, a panel starts beeping, “Nigga, my fuckin’ back hurse!!
Has he seen a doctor? No. Why? Because “if I see a doctor, they’ll take one look at it and give me muscle relaxants (Note: He did say “muscle relaxers”, but I respect the English language, even if we did turn “aluminium” into “aluminum”, “colour” into “color”, “night” into “nite" etc. It’s better than turning “hurts” into “hurse”, “You’d better leave that shit there” into “Ya bedda led dem shiz dare” and “Hey, what’s up?” into “Gloopy goopy glurp?” and so on… ).” Why hasn’t he gotten muscle relaxants? Because then he’ll have to see a doctor. He’s like a whiny broken record trapped in a Mobius strip. And I am in his orbit. It is pretty interesting though; big, burly black man puling like a bitch with cramps. I can only hope that his continued refusal to go to a doctor and get something to shut him up will result in his spinal cord snapping and him losing all use of his big, burly black cizzock. That’ll fix his wagon.
It’s 3:24 AM, 8/19/04
Walking back to the Hospital from my home, I was assaulted by thousands of crickets and the overwhelming scent of Nature. Walking between the black expanse of Central Park and the chthonic-lit castle-like Hospital is always strange and sometimes I sense a genuine presence behind me. Thinking about all the bad deaths this place has seen some post human unrest is to be expected. About a week of so ago, I accidentally heard a patients dying. A code was called late one night on the 6th floor of the Hospital building. The proper authorities were called to assist. A few minutes after the call, a light on my board went on and I asked if the resident needed assistance. I heard some strange noises , but no response. I asked again. More strange noises. Nothing but noises. I asked a third time and heard and angry young male voice yell “No! No assistance! Nothing-“ then the light went out. I wrote down the time in the log and double checked the room number. A moment later, we received the call that the code patient had died. I noted the time of death and the room number and realized that the room I had just heard from was the room in which, according to the doctor’s notes, the patient had just died. The button to call for assistance was hit by the attending doctor by accident allowing me to hear the last efforts of the doctors to save the patient and the patient’s last efforts to live. I was thinking about this as I walked back to the Hospital at 3ish in the morning. Directly in front of the entrance is a rock garden with a statue of the Virgin Mary. Swallowed up by the insectile soundscape, looking at the light of a Lovecraft monster on the Madonna, thinking about what I had witnessed a recently, I was unable to suppress a shudder. Did Jesus ever think that centuries after his death, statues of his mother would creep me out? Why the hell not? Hm.
5:53 AM
Huge major update!! Mr. Arrington just made a phone call to someone. In a nutshell he asked this person (whom he called at 5:51 in the morning) for some “little yellow pills, I don’t know the name” for his “twisted back.” He’s asking this mysterious drug-wielding stranger so he doesn’t have to “get a subscription.” I can only assume he meant “prescription.”
On an unrelated topic: I loathe those Wendy’s commercials with that fat fucking bastard. The TV commercials are bad but the radio spots are exponentially worse.
“The Bart, the.”
“Well, no one who speaks German could be evil.”
Are you still with me?
8/20/04 3:24 AM
It’s like I’m surrounded by three stupid parrots. Bilingual parrots that can’t speak any language correctly. And it strikes me: How can the nerve center of a huge health center in New York City have such inarticulate morons working here? What if there’s some huge disaster and someone needs a clear voice? Lives could be at stake because these people are too lazy to pronounce all twenty-six letters of the alphabet. THERE’S ONLY 26!! I was expected to know the capitals of all fifty states in fourth grade and I did a damn good job for someone who doesn’t use combinations of them to form words every single day! It’s like a stupid tumor killing my brain. Fortitude friend, fortitude…
So I get’s off work at 7 am as usual. I am awake at 11:40. Why? Did I set an alarm? Is there a dog in my bed? Is Jade confused and horny? No, no and maybe one or the other. Actually, there is a dragon farting right outside my window. Upon further investigation, it is a huge fucking crane carrying things from a flatbed on the ground to the roof. I started typing this stuff to wait for it to go away and now it is gone. I just wanted to let you all know that no matter where you live; nothing, NOTHING is worse than waking up to a dragon farting and then changing itself into a crane and lifting things up to my roof. Except living in Jersey. Now it is gone and I am going to back to sleep back to again. To back to.
But first, at 5:11 or so this morning, my phone rings and it’s Alan. From 5:11 to 6:30ish or so I talked with him about life, love, Jennifer Eccels, the price of teabagging in Chinese whorehouses, how “girth” in the new “width”, the Coriolis Effect and its effect on Jade, the same effect that it has on coconuts and some many things that might or night not have actually been discussed. Either way, it was one of the most surreal conversations I have ever held, mostly due to sleep deprivation but who knows for sure? If you do, please send a self-addressed stamped envelope to:

Please Kill Me, My Brain Is Bleeding
42 Axon-Stripped-of-Myelin Lane
Exposed Dendrite Township
Mobius Strip, 17230

Things are definitely awry...

So, I haven’t slept a lot in the last few days. Sat I had a 7 pm to 7 am at the hospitalia, and when I got home I only slept from 7:45 to 1 because my sexy body and its sexy internal clock got some issues. Then at 4 or so on Sunday afternoon Josh came by and I jumped around and climbed on things for a few hours. Sunday evening I checked my messages and found out I have an audition bright and early on Monday so there goes that chance to sleep in. After the audition I decided let’s go home and sleep. Once home you realized that you haven’t eaten in a very long time. Sleep or eat. Eat or sleep. I decide to eat, thinking I was awake enough to rule the world. The moment I sat down at work that day, I knew I had fooled myself. Then…I got home thinking ah sleep…and I was somewhat right. Have another audition today at 2:15 so at least I could soak up some sleep stains. And I did, I woke about 45 minutes ago and IT’S SNOWING. What the shit? I miss my regular sleep schedule for a few days and it starts snowing? Fuck that. This won’t stand. Stop this, right now.
Also, Tyler, have you ever heard of The Questionmark Asylum or the Beta Band? I’m assuming you’re answers will be “no” and “yes” or “no” and “maybe”. Either way, I gots some good shit for your black-craving ass. Rock. I said ROCK.



all gods chillun got shoooooes...

Why do we hurt the one we love?

For instance, I love myself. I received a phone call at 11:30 this morning while I was still sleeping trying to regain my momentum after being woken up by a terrified Christina at 5 a fucking m, from my other job at the hospital. I saw the number and thought, hm maybe it's them reminding me I'm working this weekend. So I wait for my phone to stop ringing and for the message thing to appear. I check the message and it's Angie asking if I can work tonight from 11pm to 7am. Urp. Meaning that I am awake now (noon) I have to go to Roundabout at 4 and work til 9, get home at 9:40, have an hour or so before I have to sit in a quiet room underground for 8 hours and then get home at 7:03 and sleep til 3 so I can go to work tomorrow. Why do this to myself? A. I get A LOT of money from the hospital and I have no problem taking money from an institution such as THAT. B. I’m always curious about how much of what I can take (tequila, sleep deprivation, etc). I called her back and accepted because I want to see how far I can stretch my tall self.
In another area of my self, I am having a pretty good month so far (knock wood). First off, my rent check cleared leaving me with a somewhat paltry sum, but that sum will be greatly increased by my (4) weekly checks from Roundabout (nothing new), my (5) payments from the hospital (which pays like dirty good) and a few days ago I just got y Nike check (SCHWING!). I have decided to reward myself by buying a copy of The Simpsons Hit and Run video game for PS2. The game is basically Grand Theft Auto but with the Simpsons. The writers from the show wrote everything in the game, the artists did all the art and the voices from the show are all there. Really stoked. Good month.
Also, I was reflecting on this yesterday, Live Journal is mainly a tool for staying in touch with people you never see (or people you always see and want to know every detail of your LIFE), I don’t think there’s a lot of truth in it at all. Almost everyone I know who is a Live Journalist has a real, paper journal that they keep hidden from the world. Honestly, say Lisa had a huge problem with Marc…would she really post it on the Internet? If Chris ever had a steamy encounter with a lesbian, would she really post it here? If Kaitlyn finally came to grips with and admitted her huge crush on me (like she tried to do when she’s drunk…), would she put it on her Live Journal? Same with Denise? And Alan? Of course not, that would take the fun and hypocrisy out of it. Nary a relevant truth to be found. Welcome to Bush’s Live Journal community. Crazy.
In other news, really looking forward to Survivor. I hope Richard’s dirty little bugfucker gets bitten off.
And, I am working on a massive project for Jade. Should be cool.