11.30.05
7:40 PM
Getting into the Dave Eggers book A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Really digging it so far. Lots of excellent quotables (like the heading for this entry, by the by…). If you want to feel smart (or stupid, depending on who you are and what your reading habits are like…) (try to) read this book. From comics to Stephen King to Rohld Dahl to Dave Eggers. I feel like I’m on an upward swing. Perhaps after A.H.W.O.S.G. I’ll read You Shall Know Our Velocity (another Eggers book that was left mysteriously at my home). After Eggers, I might just finish Count of Monte Cristo (of which I was only able to read 25 pages in an 8 hour period thanks to Harry fucking Potter and the Elixir of Duh). Maybe I’ll finally get to Mr. Strange and Mrs. Norris (or whatever it’s called) which I bought the week it came out and have yet to read more of than a paragraph. Who knows?! The literary possibilities are wide open. Me likey readey.
Gia’s coming over tonight. She seemed a bit cloudy on the phone. Well, call me a low pressure system because I am gonna make those clouds disappear!!!! Maybe. Sometimes it’s good to feel lows or else you forget what the highs are like. That’s the problem with Prozac. It doesn’t make you feel better, it makes you feel less. Whatever her emotional state, I plan to prove to her, once and for all, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that John Sidney Linnell is, in fact, a robot. Or at least a cyborg.
I made a friend in the MIS department and now I have this cool new laser ball mouse and a super keyboard that does things I can’t even imagine. It’s good to wheedle.
Back to the book…
11.29.2005
11.29.05
3:19 PM
I feel like my pants: rumpled, worn and with a small yet noticeably stain spreading in the crotch.
My original flight was to leave at 8:45 AM, put me into Raleigh-Durham and then from there to NYC. I would arrive around 1ish. However, my flight down got balled up (no details since there aren’t many things more boring and esoteric than descriptions of long airport waits…) so my family and I figured it would be wise to check that the returning flight was okay. It was although getting in at 1ish would only work if EVERYTHING went perfect. There was only to be a 30 minute layover and if one plane was late and the second was early, I was fucked out of some money (I’m working today…). We saw that there was an earlier flight (7:55 AM) that went directly to NYC and got me in at 10:30. Long story short, I was up at 5 this morning after getting only 3 hours of sleep.
Anyway.
The point of this update is to let you all know I got a good one off:
So I sat down in the aisle seat of an empty row. There was a bag and a coat on the window seat. Eventually, a guy showed up claiming the window seat. He asked is I knew whose stuff this was, I told him I didn’t. He moved it to the middle and that was that. As the plane filled up and no one claimed the seat, I became suspect of terrorism and asked the stew if she had any info. She said she thought the stuff belonged to some woman who was in the back. As we were about to leave, the woman shows up, talks to the stew for a moment and determines that she is in the wrong seat. Thanks to me, there is an empty seat between ne and the guy. Soon after that, we are informed that the half hour delay has turned into a forty-five minute delay. As we were sitting, motionless, on the ground (I find fewer things in life more annoying and useless that an airplane sitting, motionless, on the ground) the man turns to me and says, “Hey, thanks for saying something about the stuff on the seat.” I respond, “No problem.” A pause for effect and timing (also to put the words in the right order, it was blistering early still) “Maybe I should say something about the plane not moving.”
Score.
Take that Delta Song. Suck from my sarcasm teat and choke upon the poison milk contained within.
Had weird flying dreams, waking dreams, erections during the flight. Garbled.
When I returned home I torn my clothes off and snuggled into my bed from 12:40 to 2:40 in order to regain some strength. I had a dream in which I was to give a speech that Will and his brother were coming to. It was to be about the X-Prize, but it wasn’t going to be since everything knew I knew nothing about it. I don’t remember much, but I am sure it was going to end with me doing a Bill Cosby impression.
There was another dream or branch of this dream in which the family of bears living in the Springs (that’s true, not in the dream) were hanging out in my garage (dream) and I ad dealings with them…
And now, here I sit, broken-hearted.
Time crawls slowly by…
3:19 PM
I feel like my pants: rumpled, worn and with a small yet noticeably stain spreading in the crotch.
My original flight was to leave at 8:45 AM, put me into Raleigh-Durham and then from there to NYC. I would arrive around 1ish. However, my flight down got balled up (no details since there aren’t many things more boring and esoteric than descriptions of long airport waits…) so my family and I figured it would be wise to check that the returning flight was okay. It was although getting in at 1ish would only work if EVERYTHING went perfect. There was only to be a 30 minute layover and if one plane was late and the second was early, I was fucked out of some money (I’m working today…). We saw that there was an earlier flight (7:55 AM) that went directly to NYC and got me in at 10:30. Long story short, I was up at 5 this morning after getting only 3 hours of sleep.
Anyway.
The point of this update is to let you all know I got a good one off:
So I sat down in the aisle seat of an empty row. There was a bag and a coat on the window seat. Eventually, a guy showed up claiming the window seat. He asked is I knew whose stuff this was, I told him I didn’t. He moved it to the middle and that was that. As the plane filled up and no one claimed the seat, I became suspect of terrorism and asked the stew if she had any info. She said she thought the stuff belonged to some woman who was in the back. As we were about to leave, the woman shows up, talks to the stew for a moment and determines that she is in the wrong seat. Thanks to me, there is an empty seat between ne and the guy. Soon after that, we are informed that the half hour delay has turned into a forty-five minute delay. As we were sitting, motionless, on the ground (I find fewer things in life more annoying and useless that an airplane sitting, motionless, on the ground) the man turns to me and says, “Hey, thanks for saying something about the stuff on the seat.” I respond, “No problem.” A pause for effect and timing (also to put the words in the right order, it was blistering early still) “Maybe I should say something about the plane not moving.”
Score.
Take that Delta Song. Suck from my sarcasm teat and choke upon the poison milk contained within.
Had weird flying dreams, waking dreams, erections during the flight. Garbled.
When I returned home I torn my clothes off and snuggled into my bed from 12:40 to 2:40 in order to regain some strength. I had a dream in which I was to give a speech that Will and his brother were coming to. It was to be about the X-Prize, but it wasn’t going to be since everything knew I knew nothing about it. I don’t remember much, but I am sure it was going to end with me doing a Bill Cosby impression.
There was another dream or branch of this dream in which the family of bears living in the Springs (that’s true, not in the dream) were hanging out in my garage (dream) and I ad dealings with them…
And now, here I sit, broken-hearted.
Time crawls slowly by…
11.28.2005
I have something in my eye...
There is NO attractive twizz on staff at Bascom Palmer Eye Institute. Where did this myth of nurses being attractive originate? I want my retinal specialist to work there.
My wait was two hours longer than it usually was today. Why? Because the BPEI just shelled out $100,000 for a digital inner eye camera system.
The bad news: each visit will now be a four hour trial AND each year I will have my retinas singed by super powered blasts of light sent directly into my eye.
The good news:...uh...I get to see what makes me stumble around like a hedgehog turned up by the family plow into a sunny day. It looks like exactly what I thought it would look like and although we can now see pictures of it and can trace its progression, we can't do anything about it. Fucking technology. You get to see the individual cells in your malignant tumor and get an HD perfect view of it killing you, but you still can't stop it. Maybe if they had splurged and bought the $200,000 system they could actually help me. Oh well. See you next year, Dr. Superfluous.
My wait was two hours longer than it usually was today. Why? Because the BPEI just shelled out $100,000 for a digital inner eye camera system.
The bad news: each visit will now be a four hour trial AND each year I will have my retinas singed by super powered blasts of light sent directly into my eye.
The good news:...uh...I get to see what makes me stumble around like a hedgehog turned up by the family plow into a sunny day. It looks like exactly what I thought it would look like and although we can now see pictures of it and can trace its progression, we can't do anything about it. Fucking technology. You get to see the individual cells in your malignant tumor and get an HD perfect view of it killing you, but you still can't stop it. Maybe if they had splurged and bought the $200,000 system they could actually help me. Oh well. See you next year, Dr. Superfluous.
11.26.2005
K Rock xmax the turkey
I winder if the tukey I had a few nights ago had avian flu...
As I sit in my room in Florida (there is mysteriously a computer in my room for some reason...) I realize how different 38 degrees is from 75 degrees. Things are sludgy here and I enjoy that. Time is elastic. Soon I will go to Miami for eye piercing tests that might reveal the onset of macular degeneration, a continued growth of scar tissue on my retina or any number of tiny things that will cost me my sight.
I reflect that going blind would be less fun than it is portrayed in the movies. I don't think Helen Keller is smiling in all those picture she didn't know people were taking...
Berrington is good. As always. He is still the nicest dog in the world.
My bed at home is six feet long and finding somewhere to put those extra eight inches cause some sleep trouble.
The Song planes have been upgraded again and now you can create an mp3 playlist from hundreds of album they have in their databanks. Prince, Guns N Roses, Nirvana, even They Might Be Giants' new kids album "Here Come the ABCs". The flight to Florida was pleasant, but the four hour wait in the airport was not. Apparently, the airline has the right to change your flight time without telling you. They did that. It sucked. I played Su Doku for three hours. At that point, my logic circuits were smoking. Once on the plane, everything got better. I opened up a pack of Haribo gummi bears once the stew had directed me to a seat with gallons of leg room and everything was groovy from there. Now I sit in my room, trying to find a way to escape from going to church with my parents. I'm thinking of shitting my pants and falling down, but I only have two pairs of pants with me so that might not be an option.
I got nothing for you, people. I shall now return to my video game. I received True Crime: New York City. It isn't as accurate as I would have hoped. Hm.
As I sit in my room in Florida (there is mysteriously a computer in my room for some reason...) I realize how different 38 degrees is from 75 degrees. Things are sludgy here and I enjoy that. Time is elastic. Soon I will go to Miami for eye piercing tests that might reveal the onset of macular degeneration, a continued growth of scar tissue on my retina or any number of tiny things that will cost me my sight.
I reflect that going blind would be less fun than it is portrayed in the movies. I don't think Helen Keller is smiling in all those picture she didn't know people were taking...
Berrington is good. As always. He is still the nicest dog in the world.
My bed at home is six feet long and finding somewhere to put those extra eight inches cause some sleep trouble.
The Song planes have been upgraded again and now you can create an mp3 playlist from hundreds of album they have in their databanks. Prince, Guns N Roses, Nirvana, even They Might Be Giants' new kids album "Here Come the ABCs". The flight to Florida was pleasant, but the four hour wait in the airport was not. Apparently, the airline has the right to change your flight time without telling you. They did that. It sucked. I played Su Doku for three hours. At that point, my logic circuits were smoking. Once on the plane, everything got better. I opened up a pack of Haribo gummi bears once the stew had directed me to a seat with gallons of leg room and everything was groovy from there. Now I sit in my room, trying to find a way to escape from going to church with my parents. I'm thinking of shitting my pants and falling down, but I only have two pairs of pants with me so that might not be an option.
I got nothing for you, people. I shall now return to my video game. I received True Crime: New York City. It isn't as accurate as I would have hoped. Hm.
11.22.2005
11.22.05
10:18 PM
Every pigeon in the city has become an assassin. I no longer chase them, they chase me. Everything I have ever feared has come to pass.
Went to D.C. this weekend. White Russians without ice aren’t meant to be consumed.
Pumpkin rolls are enjoyable.
It is exhilarating to drive 100 miles per hour.
I return to Florida in a few days. Feeling a bit scattered.
I felt like there was something I had to tell you or share with you, but I suppose it couldn’t have been that important or else I would have forced myself to write it down when I thought of it.
I just read Ray’s script. First draft type stuff. Could be interesting.
I have an urge to finish the Tall Like Paul script, although I also had an urge a few weeks ago to edit my short film and I had a similar urge more recently to arrange actors and locations for filming two other projects. Seems much easier to play videos games and also do nothing.
Ideas about elevator scenes and baby girls with several penises will appear in the script.
I should make more videos for my web site. I don’t think I’ve updated that in months. If only I were better at poetry. I don’t think anyone is good at poetry. No one alive, at least.
Poetry Slams are a mockery.
I am watching another TV series on DVD now. Just biding my time………
10:18 PM
Every pigeon in the city has become an assassin. I no longer chase them, they chase me. Everything I have ever feared has come to pass.
Went to D.C. this weekend. White Russians without ice aren’t meant to be consumed.
Pumpkin rolls are enjoyable.
It is exhilarating to drive 100 miles per hour.
I return to Florida in a few days. Feeling a bit scattered.
I felt like there was something I had to tell you or share with you, but I suppose it couldn’t have been that important or else I would have forced myself to write it down when I thought of it.
I just read Ray’s script. First draft type stuff. Could be interesting.
I have an urge to finish the Tall Like Paul script, although I also had an urge a few weeks ago to edit my short film and I had a similar urge more recently to arrange actors and locations for filming two other projects. Seems much easier to play videos games and also do nothing.
Ideas about elevator scenes and baby girls with several penises will appear in the script.
I should make more videos for my web site. I don’t think I’ve updated that in months. If only I were better at poetry. I don’t think anyone is good at poetry. No one alive, at least.
Poetry Slams are a mockery.
I am watching another TV series on DVD now. Just biding my time………
11.16.2005
Uh oh...
I pause in the middle of my fourth piece of apple pie; recalling that too many apples gives one the squitters…
Darn.
Hahahahahahahaha, thinking about diarrhea reminded me of that part in Wayne’s World when Mike Myers talks about that Swedish county and then says he remembers it because it was the day he got diarrhea on the trampoline. Hahahahahahahahaha.
Man, what substandard pie…I wonder if the quality of the diarrhea (amounts of pain, liquid to solid ratio, color, bouquet etc.) will improve or worsen because of the totally non-homemade nature of said pie…
I’ll let you know…
Darn.
Hahahahahahahaha, thinking about diarrhea reminded me of that part in Wayne’s World when Mike Myers talks about that Swedish county and then says he remembers it because it was the day he got diarrhea on the trampoline. Hahahahahahahahaha.
Man, what substandard pie…I wonder if the quality of the diarrhea (amounts of pain, liquid to solid ratio, color, bouquet etc.) will improve or worsen because of the totally non-homemade nature of said pie…
I’ll let you know…
Being naughty...again.
Just got of the phone with Phil. Yes, THAT Phil. He’s gone native. Whatever that means. He has turned down the construction job which is a good idea sionce he isn’t the "manual labor” type….or the “labor” type at all He’s more the “sleeping” or “drinking” type. Yeah. His relationship with Kaitlyn is blossoming and that’s awesome. You know, it’s weird, but I really miss that malcontent spaz. She brought this acerbic intelligence to the group but she could also mispronounce “dog”. She was quite the collection of paradoxes…and now she’s gone. Man…I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. I think she’s going from Oz to NZ to the Peace Corps or something. Hm. Maybe I’ll just tell her my true feelings and we’ll get married. That should keep her around for a few weeks. Anyway, Phil is searing meat and will call me back, I’m going to have another slice of pie while I wait…
Fuck you, I'm going swimming.
Why is it every time someone is not supposed to be using the Internet at work, they not only use it, but use it to look for porn? Do they honestly think that deleting the history and the cookies will make their crime undetectable?
Well I certainly hope so because suddenly there is Internet on my computer at work and I have been looking for some pretty weird shit. Oh boy. Makes Tubgirl (you remember her Phil, right?) look like the homepage for the Vatican.
In fact, as soon as I am done typing this up, I plan to post it…FROM WORK.
Now to work on a virus…
Man is I full.
Two days ago it was the Thanksgiving Banquet. The kitchen staff sent down a bunch of plates. Turkey, ham, stuffing, veggies, rice and pumpkin pie. I ate like a gay pig. Yesterday, there was another permutation of the Thanksgiving meal and I got turkey, ham, rice, veggies and rolls. And today, oh wondrous glory, turkey (I happened to luck upon the fucking leg), rice and apple pie. The best thing is, this isn’t the turkey mash they serve to the residents here, this is prime shit, my friends.
Lordy, lordy.
Here’s a question for you all: why do people like stuffing so much? It’s wet bread cooked inside the body of a turkey. It should be disgusting and disease ridden, but it’s delicious. I could eat stuffing for breakfast and just might while I am home for Thanksgiving.
What an active week it has been and it’s only Wednesday!! I‘ve gone swimming twice, had lunch with my father. Woo! How the time does become noticeable when you aren’t sleeping 14 hours until an hour before you go to work, getting home and playing video games until you go to sleep again. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Or if they do tell you otherwise, ignore them.
And the week isn’t over yet!! Tomorrow before work I am going to start making my Heckle Tools for Will’s speech on Saturday which myself and Christina Nongirlfriend will be at (all three times it is delivered). Then, after work, off to see Harry Potter…uh…whichever number this one is. Then, Friday, it’s fun sleepover night with Christina Nongirlfriend so her and I can be up stupidly early on Saturday so we can speed to D.C. and make it for all Will’s speeches.
Hr and I need to come up with some bus games. If we sit in the back, maybe I can convince her to give me a hand job and then freak out when she touché my penis, just to fuck with her head and keep the ride interesting. Hahahaha. Man is this a busy week.
Also, Ray has finished the script for “Shadow Beyond the Stars” and I cannot wait to read it. This is going to be glorious fun.
AND
I saw a bootleg copy of the Sugababes video: not only am I in it, but I own the fucking thing for those four seconds. As soon as it’s available somewhere, I will let you know. It’s being released on an enhanced CD single n the U.K and you can find it on Amazon, but I’ll try to make it easier for you. Lazy pigs. Too busy rolling around in your own shit to buy my first legit music video? Cockgobblers. Burn in your self created hell of venereal disease. Drink the pus of shame and syphilis. I…am going to have another slice of apple pie.
By the hoo hoo Chris, it is nowhere near as good as yours, but I would rather have bad pie as opposed to no pie. And now…to pie…
Oh grod it is SOOOOOO adequate. It tastes like it was made by a machine. This apple pie is cold and heartless.
Holy shit and speaking of machines…the new Beck video for “Hell Yes” is up on his website. Lots of fun. I won’t give it away, but I will say that the stars are these robots.
“They're called QRIOs, so-called ‘dream robots’ developed by Sony Japan as high-tech playthings for children. The QRIO can carry on conversations, adapt to a multitude of environments and - most importantly - mimic human movements, including complex dance routines. Currently, there are only four working QRIOs in the world. And all of them appear in the ‘Hell Yes’ video.” It’s directed by Spike Jonze AND Garth Jennings and it will cause your anus to leak.
In other news, I have started reading Roald Dahl’s My Uncle Oswald after YEARS of hearing how good it is. This book should be read by anyone who thinks Dahl is a children’s writer. In fact, I feel sorry for the parents of the children who accidentally read this thinking it’s a children’s book and then have to explain what copulation and erections are to their 6 year olds. An excellent book so far. Philip, I expect you to be Uncle Oswald.
I don’t know if I can ramble about anything else right now. I’m going.
Well I certainly hope so because suddenly there is Internet on my computer at work and I have been looking for some pretty weird shit. Oh boy. Makes Tubgirl (you remember her Phil, right?) look like the homepage for the Vatican.
In fact, as soon as I am done typing this up, I plan to post it…FROM WORK.
Now to work on a virus…
Man is I full.
Two days ago it was the Thanksgiving Banquet. The kitchen staff sent down a bunch of plates. Turkey, ham, stuffing, veggies, rice and pumpkin pie. I ate like a gay pig. Yesterday, there was another permutation of the Thanksgiving meal and I got turkey, ham, rice, veggies and rolls. And today, oh wondrous glory, turkey (I happened to luck upon the fucking leg), rice and apple pie. The best thing is, this isn’t the turkey mash they serve to the residents here, this is prime shit, my friends.
Lordy, lordy.
Here’s a question for you all: why do people like stuffing so much? It’s wet bread cooked inside the body of a turkey. It should be disgusting and disease ridden, but it’s delicious. I could eat stuffing for breakfast and just might while I am home for Thanksgiving.
What an active week it has been and it’s only Wednesday!! I‘ve gone swimming twice, had lunch with my father. Woo! How the time does become noticeable when you aren’t sleeping 14 hours until an hour before you go to work, getting home and playing video games until you go to sleep again. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Or if they do tell you otherwise, ignore them.
And the week isn’t over yet!! Tomorrow before work I am going to start making my Heckle Tools for Will’s speech on Saturday which myself and Christina Nongirlfriend will be at (all three times it is delivered). Then, after work, off to see Harry Potter…uh…whichever number this one is. Then, Friday, it’s fun sleepover night with Christina Nongirlfriend so her and I can be up stupidly early on Saturday so we can speed to D.C. and make it for all Will’s speeches.
Hr and I need to come up with some bus games. If we sit in the back, maybe I can convince her to give me a hand job and then freak out when she touché my penis, just to fuck with her head and keep the ride interesting. Hahahaha. Man is this a busy week.
Also, Ray has finished the script for “Shadow Beyond the Stars” and I cannot wait to read it. This is going to be glorious fun.
AND
I saw a bootleg copy of the Sugababes video: not only am I in it, but I own the fucking thing for those four seconds. As soon as it’s available somewhere, I will let you know. It’s being released on an enhanced CD single n the U.K and you can find it on Amazon, but I’ll try to make it easier for you. Lazy pigs. Too busy rolling around in your own shit to buy my first legit music video? Cockgobblers. Burn in your self created hell of venereal disease. Drink the pus of shame and syphilis. I…am going to have another slice of apple pie.
By the hoo hoo Chris, it is nowhere near as good as yours, but I would rather have bad pie as opposed to no pie. And now…to pie…
Oh grod it is SOOOOOO adequate. It tastes like it was made by a machine. This apple pie is cold and heartless.
Holy shit and speaking of machines…the new Beck video for “Hell Yes” is up on his website. Lots of fun. I won’t give it away, but I will say that the stars are these robots.
“They're called QRIOs, so-called ‘dream robots’ developed by Sony Japan as high-tech playthings for children. The QRIO can carry on conversations, adapt to a multitude of environments and - most importantly - mimic human movements, including complex dance routines. Currently, there are only four working QRIOs in the world. And all of them appear in the ‘Hell Yes’ video.” It’s directed by Spike Jonze AND Garth Jennings and it will cause your anus to leak.
In other news, I have started reading Roald Dahl’s My Uncle Oswald after YEARS of hearing how good it is. This book should be read by anyone who thinks Dahl is a children’s writer. In fact, I feel sorry for the parents of the children who accidentally read this thinking it’s a children’s book and then have to explain what copulation and erections are to their 6 year olds. An excellent book so far. Philip, I expect you to be Uncle Oswald.
I don’t know if I can ramble about anything else right now. I’m going.
11.01.2005
I Came, I Rocked, I Got Real Paid
11.1.05
2:10 PM
You ever find yourself eating a bagel whose flavor is indeterminate? I am doing that now.
I am on the fifth floor of an abandoned building in Long Island City. I am at the video shoot for the Sugababes new superhot smash hit “Ugly”. Why? Because Kraft services provides excellent (free) food.
More surprising than the fact that I’m going to be in the “Ugly” video is the fact that I took both the L and G trains to get here and only got turned around twice, wasting a total of about ten minutes or so. Go me. Where I am now looks like god damn downtown Groznyy. The video’s director, Toby Tremlett (Moloko “Fun For Me”, Sneaker Pimps “Six Underground”) has quite the sick sense of humor (exemplified even further by my presence). While I was looking for the shoot, I came across one of the singers (Heidi). She is incineratingly good looking AND has a British accent. Liverpool has never sounded less disgusting. Then some nice guy with a cockney accent told me to talk to “that bloke o’er there”. Fuckin’ a, man, I gotta bloke.
Once I got in, I put on my (Ray’s) blue velvet shirt and took my hair down. Jessica the wardrobe chick then deemed my appropriately “rock” and now here I sit, noshing on a something-that-might-be-a-maple-syrup bagel at the expense of Mad Cow Productions, London, England. In a few moments (or hours, who knows?) I will get real paid for rocking out. Can I say again how much I love this job?
My free bagel is almost gone I think I will get another… Before I do, I should take a moment to snicker at the poor fuckers who have been in this crumbling deathtrap since four in the morning. *snicker snicker*
4:01 PM
After spending about two hours on and around the set I feel like whipping it out and jacking off furiously. Strangely, this has less to do with the scalding hot Brits and more to do with the people I am surrounded by. I am surrounded by stereotypes. Little black kids skipping rope, skaters in backward caps and ¾ length pants with wallet chains, cute little tap dancing girls, an Asian guy in a gi who knows martial arts, a mime, a juggler and other “entertaining” stereotypes.
But that isn’t the problem. The problem is that everyone is doing everything they can to show everyone how great they are. Whenever I’m on one of these things, I always feel like the PA’s, AD’s and all the other assistants that have to be the Stereotype Shepard. I feel hatred for these one dimensional caricatures. Look, I’m juggling. I’m just doing it so you’ll look at me and think I’m interesting and think to yourself, “Man, I wish I could juggle like him. My life is meaning less without being able to juggle.” Christ. This raises a question: What stereotype am I playing? How can they possibly use me in this? All I do is Rock Out. Is there a stereotype of tall, pale men in blue velvet shirts that can’t dance? Really? Well, Sugababes are British, maybe in Britain there is a whole sub-culture of blue velvet clad men who are tall and can’t dance. I will go there, and they shall make me their God…
****************************************************
9:26 PM
Soon after the above entry, I was put in line to get busy and then at 6 we broke for lunch. After eating rice (excellent, free rice) and talking to a sound guy who had his life threatened by G Unit’s Yayo, I was called on to Rock Out. I stood before all the lights in the universe and was addressed by some French guy (Toby Tremlett, I think). He told me to back up, squat down and then he noticed that it wasn’t his camera; I was very tall. He got a shot of me holding a tiny chalkboard with “you” written on it (had something to do with the theme of the video, I hope). After he had gotten that shot, they cued the music…and I set the world on fire. The music faded into a sea of applause. Once I got past the blazing lights I saw everyone was on their feet. I had won them over. Heidi was jumping up and down, the other two were whistling. The Attractive British set have accepted me. After that, I received paperwork and headed home.
After I found out I was to be in the video yesterday, I downloaded the Sugababes discography. My only wish is that I was in the video of a more talented band. No, they aren’t the worse, most idiotic band I have ever heard, but it really makes me question the overall intelligence of the British masses. I guess “People Are Stupid” applies to ALL people, not just Americans. Hm. Also, this is kind of sucky, apparently the video is, at the moment, only going to be shown of British music television. I will keep track of it and try to get a copy. I hope they use me. Although I was the least talented as far as special skills, I certainly gave the most in my performance.
If you want, you could go to the superhot smash hit website of Sugababes (www.sugababes.com), but then again you could also rub twin handfuls of kitty litter into your eyes.
2:10 PM
You ever find yourself eating a bagel whose flavor is indeterminate? I am doing that now.
I am on the fifth floor of an abandoned building in Long Island City. I am at the video shoot for the Sugababes new superhot smash hit “Ugly”. Why? Because Kraft services provides excellent (free) food.
More surprising than the fact that I’m going to be in the “Ugly” video is the fact that I took both the L and G trains to get here and only got turned around twice, wasting a total of about ten minutes or so. Go me. Where I am now looks like god damn downtown Groznyy. The video’s director, Toby Tremlett (Moloko “Fun For Me”, Sneaker Pimps “Six Underground”) has quite the sick sense of humor (exemplified even further by my presence). While I was looking for the shoot, I came across one of the singers (Heidi). She is incineratingly good looking AND has a British accent. Liverpool has never sounded less disgusting. Then some nice guy with a cockney accent told me to talk to “that bloke o’er there”. Fuckin’ a, man, I gotta bloke.
Once I got in, I put on my (Ray’s) blue velvet shirt and took my hair down. Jessica the wardrobe chick then deemed my appropriately “rock” and now here I sit, noshing on a something-that-might-be-a-maple-syrup bagel at the expense of Mad Cow Productions, London, England. In a few moments (or hours, who knows?) I will get real paid for rocking out. Can I say again how much I love this job?
My free bagel is almost gone I think I will get another… Before I do, I should take a moment to snicker at the poor fuckers who have been in this crumbling deathtrap since four in the morning. *snicker snicker*
4:01 PM
After spending about two hours on and around the set I feel like whipping it out and jacking off furiously. Strangely, this has less to do with the scalding hot Brits and more to do with the people I am surrounded by. I am surrounded by stereotypes. Little black kids skipping rope, skaters in backward caps and ¾ length pants with wallet chains, cute little tap dancing girls, an Asian guy in a gi who knows martial arts, a mime, a juggler and other “entertaining” stereotypes.
But that isn’t the problem. The problem is that everyone is doing everything they can to show everyone how great they are. Whenever I’m on one of these things, I always feel like the PA’s, AD’s and all the other assistants that have to be the Stereotype Shepard. I feel hatred for these one dimensional caricatures. Look, I’m juggling. I’m just doing it so you’ll look at me and think I’m interesting and think to yourself, “Man, I wish I could juggle like him. My life is meaning less without being able to juggle.” Christ. This raises a question: What stereotype am I playing? How can they possibly use me in this? All I do is Rock Out. Is there a stereotype of tall, pale men in blue velvet shirts that can’t dance? Really? Well, Sugababes are British, maybe in Britain there is a whole sub-culture of blue velvet clad men who are tall and can’t dance. I will go there, and they shall make me their God…
****************************************************
9:26 PM
Soon after the above entry, I was put in line to get busy and then at 6 we broke for lunch. After eating rice (excellent, free rice) and talking to a sound guy who had his life threatened by G Unit’s Yayo, I was called on to Rock Out. I stood before all the lights in the universe and was addressed by some French guy (Toby Tremlett, I think). He told me to back up, squat down and then he noticed that it wasn’t his camera; I was very tall. He got a shot of me holding a tiny chalkboard with “you” written on it (had something to do with the theme of the video, I hope). After he had gotten that shot, they cued the music…and I set the world on fire. The music faded into a sea of applause. Once I got past the blazing lights I saw everyone was on their feet. I had won them over. Heidi was jumping up and down, the other two were whistling. The Attractive British set have accepted me. After that, I received paperwork and headed home.
After I found out I was to be in the video yesterday, I downloaded the Sugababes discography. My only wish is that I was in the video of a more talented band. No, they aren’t the worse, most idiotic band I have ever heard, but it really makes me question the overall intelligence of the British masses. I guess “People Are Stupid” applies to ALL people, not just Americans. Hm. Also, this is kind of sucky, apparently the video is, at the moment, only going to be shown of British music television. I will keep track of it and try to get a copy. I hope they use me. Although I was the least talented as far as special skills, I certainly gave the most in my performance.
If you want, you could go to the superhot smash hit website of Sugababes (www.sugababes.com), but then again you could also rub twin handfuls of kitty litter into your eyes.
10.29.2005
Maladroit
10.28.05
9:20 PM
I just realized that Masters of the Universe (the cartoon show) was conceived simply for the merchandising potential. Think about it, was there ever a character or vehicle or location you couldn’t buy at Toys ‘R’ Us? No. What marketing geniuses those people were. Man, they knew how to exploit kids in the 80’s. Not to say they don’t know how to today. Imagine the forests that have been decimated simply to create all those fucking Yu-Gi-Oh game cards. I think that is the only cartoon show I know of that is responsible for eradicating a species of woodpecker from the earth.
Thundercats were awesome toys. They all came with a battery thing you stuck into their backs to make their eyes glow. Anyone remember the Toxic Crusaders? They weren’t allowed to call it Toxic Avengers because they couldn’t get the rights, so they called it Toxic Crusaders and made up an entire cast of supporting characters, villains etc. And man oh man did they market it. Those toys were cool too.
And all those crazy Marvel and D.C. action figures…man did I have a hard on for those things.
In fourth grade (I think it was fourth grade…) Battle Beasts were introduced. They were awesome as well. Every single piece of it was a choking hazard. You could kill three little kids with ONE package of Battle Beasts. They had a lot of detail to them.
Before those were Muscle Men. So simple. SO brilliant. And you could melt them on light bulbs.
I remember one time going to my father’s office when I was a little kid. I poured a shitload of sugar on the coffee machine hot plate and then turned it on. About five minutes later, the secretary came over and yelled at me. I demanded to know why she immediately assumed it was me. I suppose I thought (as 6 year olds do) that there might just be some fifty-something year old in a business suit pouring sugar on a hot plate just to relieve the monotony.
Trips to my dad’s office were almost always fun. There was always a large candy jar full of Hershey’s Miniatures: Krackle (by the way I have NEVER IN MY LIFE seen a full sized Krackle bar), Mr. Gooodbar, regular chocolate and dark chocolate. I would go and eat all of one kind, then all of another, then all of another until they were all gone. Then I became a problem. Imagine me…at age 6…having consumed about 3 pounds of chocolate…loose in a real estate firm. Yeah. One time, I went with my father to work because I was too sick to go to school and the babysitter wasn’t showing up until the afternoon. I remember feeling better (or thinking that I felt better) and having pizza for lunch with my dad. I remember KNOWING that I was going to throw up and also that the bathroom was down three hallways, and locked with a keypad lock. I got some puke on the walls, the floor, even a little on the ceiling of the bathroom. I can’t explain how, but it happened. That was when my dad’s office stopped being fun…until I discovered Forbidden Planet.
Back in the 80’s Forbidden Planet was in a different location…about a block from my dad’s office. I would go to his office and then go to Forbidden Planet for HOURS just hanging out there. It used to be cooler. There was like a vault downstairs where you could find ANYTHING. I never knew anything about comics then. I didn’t even buy them based on sequence. I looked at a bunch until the cover looked cool and I would buy it. For that reason I have dozens of worthless comics from the 80’s with cool covers.
There was this kid in my school named Andrew Goss. We never really got along but then again, no one had enemies back then. In an all boys’ school with excellent teachers, and a class numbering 20 (the same 20 people you’ve known since first grade) you knew everyone and you never really had enemies, you just had kids who you didn’t hang out with after school. “Play dates” they were called. You would never have anything to do with arranging them usually. Your mother or babysitter would tell you that after school you were going to _____ house. In the case of best friends (Will Marsh and later Simrall Meem) you would spend the majority of your time with them, but usually you would hang out with a good 50% of the class after school at their houses. Sometimes you would watch TV, sometimes you would play Nintendo (or later Genesis) or sometimes the other kid's babysitter would make you play in the park for a while before letting you go home and play video games and watch TV. I remember hanging out with Colin Murphy who lived right across the street from school. That was fun. I remember hanging out playing M.A.S.K. with Will Marsh (I knew him from pre-K and kindergarten too), playing Zelda with William Horstman, and trading comics with Andrew Goss. The thing was, and I think I just figured this out recently…if a kid was picking on a kid or excluding him from activities, the school would contact each of the kids’ parents and suggest a play date so the kids could become friends. I think I might have excluded Andrew from enough stuff as to attract the attention of the teachers, because, sure enough, one day after school I found myself at his house. I don’t remember much from when I was in 6th grade, just little moments and occurrences, but I do remember feeling awkward. I think it might have been the first time I ever felt that. Anyway, I was feeling awkward and then he and I started reading and trading comics. I can still remember the one I got FROM him, but I cannot remember the one I gave TO him. I got an issue of “The Mighty Thor” when Thor fought Juggernaut. I think it was pretty cool. Someone got fused with the ground. It was part of a larger story, I’m sure, but I never had any idea. I would just read the comic struggling to figure out who the fuck these people were and what they were doing and why they were doing it, and at the end of the issue, I would always think, “hm, I feel unfulfilled” not grasping the concept that I could easily go out and find the next part in that story. Eventually, I figured it out and I accrued a nice collection. I think. I really have no idea of the value of comics. I think the most valuable thing I own is some bullshit title (Captain America and the Falcon) from 1972. Shit. Well, I never went into collecting them anyway.
I did collect Matchbox cars. Those things were awesome and I actually remember playing with them and having fun. Simrall and I would stay up for HOURS playing with those fucking cars. It’s hard to remember a time when I didn’t need electricity or a controller or a keyboard to have fun.
As it is today, just being with friends was what was fun. Sim and I could play with cars, we could play Streets of Rage 2 (put in the Game Genie infinite life code and set the game on its hardest difficulty), we could torture his twin brother and sister (Halsey and Bard) or whatever.
Simrall used to make these tapes for me. He called them the “F.U. tapes”. He would put a blank tape into his family’s answering machine and record himself instead of the greeting. But the machine was weird in that sometimes it would let him talk until the tape ended, some times it would give him a minute or thirty seconds or one second so time was of the essence. Between his talking (which was pretty fucking funny; we were awesome friends) he would put songs from the radio, from his CD’s (of which he had about 7 at the time) or whatever he felt like. At this moment, in my desk at home (in Florida) I have 30 or more. I need to break those out and reminisce.
When I left New York, for some reason I didn’t tell anyone. Not anyone. I came into school one day and told Sim I was moving to Florida. He blinked and then gave me the seven dollars he had in his wallet and a cassette tape he had in his locker (I think it was “Diary of a Mad Bitch” by some terrible female gangsta rapper; remember this was 1993, the birth of gangsta rap…) and said, “I’ll see you later.” We kept in touch for a while, still staying best friends. I saw him when I visited the city; he continued to send me FU tapes and strange packages. Very strange packages. Once he sent me a shell casing and a picture of him at a shooting range. One time, he sent me (from his father’s office) a very official looking envelope containing a whole sheaf of blank paper except for a few pages that were photocopies of ads for strip clubs in the city. Once, during my difficult transition from New York City to Mungtown, I had him prank call a bunch of assholes from my class over summer vacation. We didn’t have three way calling, but he told me everything that happened. At some point, either he or I stopped communicating. I can’t remember why. I called him a few years later to find out he was into pot and the Grateful Dead. That depressed me on such a level I am unable to dwell on it.
What that meant to me was…I don’t know. The door between my very best friend ever. My first best friend was closed. Not just because of the pot (although my disdain for people who are dependant on drugs weighed in quite significantly) but because there was nothing left of the snappy banter and intelligent contact we used to have. It was the same with Aaron Gunn when he came to visit me freshman year in NYC. He was a dull, blurred shadow of his former self. He had lost his edge. As had Seth, although I have seen him since and he is a new man. He is so TALL. Compared to high school, of course.
So many memories with Simmy will remain that. Nothing new will come from that bond we once shared.
I guess. I mean I really haven’t spoken to him in a decade. He might have cleaned up, gotten a degree as…something and gone on to crazy things. His old apartment was on 86th and Park. I remember right where it is, I could go over there tonight and see if his family is still there. That would be crazy. Just show up. I should definitely check that out.
Hang on; I’m gong to look him up in the phone book…
I think I got them! Hang on, I want to double check with the operator…
Okay, got an address, two phone numbers (same except for the last 2 digits), which I cannot remember if they are the same, although I DO remember Sim’s parents having two numbers AND there is only one of his family's name in New York City.... That was amazingly easy. Like finding-someone-in-the-phone-book-in-a-movie easy.
What do I do now? If I had nothing in common with him and a sense of disdain because of the drugs ten years ago, what’s going to happen today? Jesus. I feel emotionally overwhelmed. Memories of all the fun we had. Years of memories and fun. Days straight spent with each other. This is too much for me right now. I’m still sick and this all might just be a reaction I’m having to the broccoli slaw. I need my throat to stop doing this.
I need a clear head.
I wish it weren’t so hot and dry in here.
My throat screams with each breath I pull in.
I started writing to distract myself and blow off some SOC steam but I find myself here, completely aware of what I am writing. My aim has turned in on itself. I can no longer find the stream. I want to be home watching TV. I bought Resident Evil 4 today. In the scheme of things, it's nothing new. Nothing is anything new. Ever.
After a pause, I feel better. I called Christina to see if the Dresden Dolls show was over only to be treated to a cell phone serenade of DD covering “Science Fiction Double Feature” at their Halloween show. I feel better already. I am tossing around ordering pick up from El Paso, but I am still debating. I feel like rice and beans would make things better…At this moment I’ve been typing for one hour and twenty minutes straight. It doesn’t feel that long at all. When you are really into what you are writing, Phil should know this, you forget time and, for a short moment, Time forgets you.
I downloaded “Doom: The Movie” for a Nine Inch Nails remix that's in the movie somewhere. The file cut out 2 seconds into the song and, from what I gleaned (I didn’t watch it, I skipped through listening for the song) it’s not as bad as reviewers made it out to be...it’s actually worse. The Onion reviewed it and absolutely shredded it. Same as Saw II. No surprises.
Mm, those rice and beans are really making me think happy. I think I will place that order right now.
This was a good spell, I think.
9:20 PM
I just realized that Masters of the Universe (the cartoon show) was conceived simply for the merchandising potential. Think about it, was there ever a character or vehicle or location you couldn’t buy at Toys ‘R’ Us? No. What marketing geniuses those people were. Man, they knew how to exploit kids in the 80’s. Not to say they don’t know how to today. Imagine the forests that have been decimated simply to create all those fucking Yu-Gi-Oh game cards. I think that is the only cartoon show I know of that is responsible for eradicating a species of woodpecker from the earth.
Thundercats were awesome toys. They all came with a battery thing you stuck into their backs to make their eyes glow. Anyone remember the Toxic Crusaders? They weren’t allowed to call it Toxic Avengers because they couldn’t get the rights, so they called it Toxic Crusaders and made up an entire cast of supporting characters, villains etc. And man oh man did they market it. Those toys were cool too.
And all those crazy Marvel and D.C. action figures…man did I have a hard on for those things.
In fourth grade (I think it was fourth grade…) Battle Beasts were introduced. They were awesome as well. Every single piece of it was a choking hazard. You could kill three little kids with ONE package of Battle Beasts. They had a lot of detail to them.
Before those were Muscle Men. So simple. SO brilliant. And you could melt them on light bulbs.
I remember one time going to my father’s office when I was a little kid. I poured a shitload of sugar on the coffee machine hot plate and then turned it on. About five minutes later, the secretary came over and yelled at me. I demanded to know why she immediately assumed it was me. I suppose I thought (as 6 year olds do) that there might just be some fifty-something year old in a business suit pouring sugar on a hot plate just to relieve the monotony.
Trips to my dad’s office were almost always fun. There was always a large candy jar full of Hershey’s Miniatures: Krackle (by the way I have NEVER IN MY LIFE seen a full sized Krackle bar), Mr. Gooodbar, regular chocolate and dark chocolate. I would go and eat all of one kind, then all of another, then all of another until they were all gone. Then I became a problem. Imagine me…at age 6…having consumed about 3 pounds of chocolate…loose in a real estate firm. Yeah. One time, I went with my father to work because I was too sick to go to school and the babysitter wasn’t showing up until the afternoon. I remember feeling better (or thinking that I felt better) and having pizza for lunch with my dad. I remember KNOWING that I was going to throw up and also that the bathroom was down three hallways, and locked with a keypad lock. I got some puke on the walls, the floor, even a little on the ceiling of the bathroom. I can’t explain how, but it happened. That was when my dad’s office stopped being fun…until I discovered Forbidden Planet.
Back in the 80’s Forbidden Planet was in a different location…about a block from my dad’s office. I would go to his office and then go to Forbidden Planet for HOURS just hanging out there. It used to be cooler. There was like a vault downstairs where you could find ANYTHING. I never knew anything about comics then. I didn’t even buy them based on sequence. I looked at a bunch until the cover looked cool and I would buy it. For that reason I have dozens of worthless comics from the 80’s with cool covers.
There was this kid in my school named Andrew Goss. We never really got along but then again, no one had enemies back then. In an all boys’ school with excellent teachers, and a class numbering 20 (the same 20 people you’ve known since first grade) you knew everyone and you never really had enemies, you just had kids who you didn’t hang out with after school. “Play dates” they were called. You would never have anything to do with arranging them usually. Your mother or babysitter would tell you that after school you were going to _____ house. In the case of best friends (Will Marsh and later Simrall Meem) you would spend the majority of your time with them, but usually you would hang out with a good 50% of the class after school at their houses. Sometimes you would watch TV, sometimes you would play Nintendo (or later Genesis) or sometimes the other kid's babysitter would make you play in the park for a while before letting you go home and play video games and watch TV. I remember hanging out with Colin Murphy who lived right across the street from school. That was fun. I remember hanging out playing M.A.S.K. with Will Marsh (I knew him from pre-K and kindergarten too), playing Zelda with William Horstman, and trading comics with Andrew Goss. The thing was, and I think I just figured this out recently…if a kid was picking on a kid or excluding him from activities, the school would contact each of the kids’ parents and suggest a play date so the kids could become friends. I think I might have excluded Andrew from enough stuff as to attract the attention of the teachers, because, sure enough, one day after school I found myself at his house. I don’t remember much from when I was in 6th grade, just little moments and occurrences, but I do remember feeling awkward. I think it might have been the first time I ever felt that. Anyway, I was feeling awkward and then he and I started reading and trading comics. I can still remember the one I got FROM him, but I cannot remember the one I gave TO him. I got an issue of “The Mighty Thor” when Thor fought Juggernaut. I think it was pretty cool. Someone got fused with the ground. It was part of a larger story, I’m sure, but I never had any idea. I would just read the comic struggling to figure out who the fuck these people were and what they were doing and why they were doing it, and at the end of the issue, I would always think, “hm, I feel unfulfilled” not grasping the concept that I could easily go out and find the next part in that story. Eventually, I figured it out and I accrued a nice collection. I think. I really have no idea of the value of comics. I think the most valuable thing I own is some bullshit title (Captain America and the Falcon) from 1972. Shit. Well, I never went into collecting them anyway.
I did collect Matchbox cars. Those things were awesome and I actually remember playing with them and having fun. Simrall and I would stay up for HOURS playing with those fucking cars. It’s hard to remember a time when I didn’t need electricity or a controller or a keyboard to have fun.
As it is today, just being with friends was what was fun. Sim and I could play with cars, we could play Streets of Rage 2 (put in the Game Genie infinite life code and set the game on its hardest difficulty), we could torture his twin brother and sister (Halsey and Bard) or whatever.
Simrall used to make these tapes for me. He called them the “F.U. tapes”. He would put a blank tape into his family’s answering machine and record himself instead of the greeting. But the machine was weird in that sometimes it would let him talk until the tape ended, some times it would give him a minute or thirty seconds or one second so time was of the essence. Between his talking (which was pretty fucking funny; we were awesome friends) he would put songs from the radio, from his CD’s (of which he had about 7 at the time) or whatever he felt like. At this moment, in my desk at home (in Florida) I have 30 or more. I need to break those out and reminisce.
When I left New York, for some reason I didn’t tell anyone. Not anyone. I came into school one day and told Sim I was moving to Florida. He blinked and then gave me the seven dollars he had in his wallet and a cassette tape he had in his locker (I think it was “Diary of a Mad Bitch” by some terrible female gangsta rapper; remember this was 1993, the birth of gangsta rap…) and said, “I’ll see you later.” We kept in touch for a while, still staying best friends. I saw him when I visited the city; he continued to send me FU tapes and strange packages. Very strange packages. Once he sent me a shell casing and a picture of him at a shooting range. One time, he sent me (from his father’s office) a very official looking envelope containing a whole sheaf of blank paper except for a few pages that were photocopies of ads for strip clubs in the city. Once, during my difficult transition from New York City to Mungtown, I had him prank call a bunch of assholes from my class over summer vacation. We didn’t have three way calling, but he told me everything that happened. At some point, either he or I stopped communicating. I can’t remember why. I called him a few years later to find out he was into pot and the Grateful Dead. That depressed me on such a level I am unable to dwell on it.
What that meant to me was…I don’t know. The door between my very best friend ever. My first best friend was closed. Not just because of the pot (although my disdain for people who are dependant on drugs weighed in quite significantly) but because there was nothing left of the snappy banter and intelligent contact we used to have. It was the same with Aaron Gunn when he came to visit me freshman year in NYC. He was a dull, blurred shadow of his former self. He had lost his edge. As had Seth, although I have seen him since and he is a new man. He is so TALL. Compared to high school, of course.
So many memories with Simmy will remain that. Nothing new will come from that bond we once shared.
I guess. I mean I really haven’t spoken to him in a decade. He might have cleaned up, gotten a degree as…something and gone on to crazy things. His old apartment was on 86th and Park. I remember right where it is, I could go over there tonight and see if his family is still there. That would be crazy. Just show up. I should definitely check that out.
Hang on; I’m gong to look him up in the phone book…
I think I got them! Hang on, I want to double check with the operator…
Okay, got an address, two phone numbers (same except for the last 2 digits), which I cannot remember if they are the same, although I DO remember Sim’s parents having two numbers AND there is only one of his family's name in New York City.... That was amazingly easy. Like finding-someone-in-the-phone-book-in-a-movie easy.
What do I do now? If I had nothing in common with him and a sense of disdain because of the drugs ten years ago, what’s going to happen today? Jesus. I feel emotionally overwhelmed. Memories of all the fun we had. Years of memories and fun. Days straight spent with each other. This is too much for me right now. I’m still sick and this all might just be a reaction I’m having to the broccoli slaw. I need my throat to stop doing this.
I need a clear head.
I wish it weren’t so hot and dry in here.
My throat screams with each breath I pull in.
I started writing to distract myself and blow off some SOC steam but I find myself here, completely aware of what I am writing. My aim has turned in on itself. I can no longer find the stream. I want to be home watching TV. I bought Resident Evil 4 today. In the scheme of things, it's nothing new. Nothing is anything new. Ever.
After a pause, I feel better. I called Christina to see if the Dresden Dolls show was over only to be treated to a cell phone serenade of DD covering “Science Fiction Double Feature” at their Halloween show. I feel better already. I am tossing around ordering pick up from El Paso, but I am still debating. I feel like rice and beans would make things better…At this moment I’ve been typing for one hour and twenty minutes straight. It doesn’t feel that long at all. When you are really into what you are writing, Phil should know this, you forget time and, for a short moment, Time forgets you.
I downloaded “Doom: The Movie” for a Nine Inch Nails remix that's in the movie somewhere. The file cut out 2 seconds into the song and, from what I gleaned (I didn’t watch it, I skipped through listening for the song) it’s not as bad as reviewers made it out to be...it’s actually worse. The Onion reviewed it and absolutely shredded it. Same as Saw II. No surprises.
Mm, those rice and beans are really making me think happy. I think I will place that order right now.
This was a good spell, I think.
10.26.2005
Diversion
10.26.05
7:26 PM
What glorious Chinese food!! The rice was perfectly cooked, nary a hard grain to be found. And the chicken? Juicy and plentiful with not too much sauce. But the jewel in this culinary crown was indeed the egg roll. Perfect in every way.
Today is much better than yesterday. I rested my eyes (by sleeping ‘til one o’clock this afternoon) and have yet to use my eyes for anything more strenuous than staring at this keyboard. The fact that I’m sick is almost forgotten in the wash of excellent Chinese food I am currently consuming.
Does sleeping ten hours a day mean I am depressed? Impossible to be depressed when one eats such marvelous Chinese food. YUMMY! With each bite it actually gets BETTER! HUZZAH! Is there lithium in this food? Well there just might be!! Woot woot, I say, woot woot indeed!!
Happiness is neither a warm gun NOR a warm puppy…it is excellent Chinese food! Quote me! Quote me freely!!!
7:53 PM
Alas, now the food is gone. However, every belch that dances up my throat and into my mouth reminds me of the gentle beauty of the Chinese food I have just ingested! The flavors shall pirouette for hours to come and my soul shall twirl with them! I have a mad urge to run to the Chinese restaurant from whence this ambrosia came and kiss all the people there! Yet another mad urge to collect the resulting feces from this meal in memoriam pounds my soul as well! I am helpless to fight these desires! I must succumb! I MUST KISS! I MUST COLLECT! I MUST! I MUST!!!!
I think I shall induce vomiting to sample this nectar again…and again! And again!!!
7:26 PM
What glorious Chinese food!! The rice was perfectly cooked, nary a hard grain to be found. And the chicken? Juicy and plentiful with not too much sauce. But the jewel in this culinary crown was indeed the egg roll. Perfect in every way.
Today is much better than yesterday. I rested my eyes (by sleeping ‘til one o’clock this afternoon) and have yet to use my eyes for anything more strenuous than staring at this keyboard. The fact that I’m sick is almost forgotten in the wash of excellent Chinese food I am currently consuming.
Does sleeping ten hours a day mean I am depressed? Impossible to be depressed when one eats such marvelous Chinese food. YUMMY! With each bite it actually gets BETTER! HUZZAH! Is there lithium in this food? Well there just might be!! Woot woot, I say, woot woot indeed!!
Happiness is neither a warm gun NOR a warm puppy…it is excellent Chinese food! Quote me! Quote me freely!!!
7:53 PM
Alas, now the food is gone. However, every belch that dances up my throat and into my mouth reminds me of the gentle beauty of the Chinese food I have just ingested! The flavors shall pirouette for hours to come and my soul shall twirl with them! I have a mad urge to run to the Chinese restaurant from whence this ambrosia came and kiss all the people there! Yet another mad urge to collect the resulting feces from this meal in memoriam pounds my soul as well! I am helpless to fight these desires! I must succumb! I MUST KISS! I MUST COLLECT! I MUST! I MUST!!!!
I think I shall induce vomiting to sample this nectar again…and again! And again!!!
You fucking disappoint me
10.26.05
3:09 PM
Today is cool and crisp and clear. Perfect day for thinking.
And I think everything I do is wasting time until something happens.
Talked to Christina NON Girlfriend today. Apparently her universe has turned to dust.
In her world, the Tower has fallen and everything is ichor.
She has agreed to see Christina Girlfriend and myself, no one else, not yet.
Her world needs rebuilding.
What’s more, she deserves rebuilding. Not many people understand just how much she rocks.
I think her spiritual destruction and resulting descion to become a recluse is but another symptome in this strange disease that has infected us all…Kaitlyn and Phil leave the continent, Christina hits rock bottom and then finds out there’s a basement, Alan and Lisa make like bananas and split…
Things are unraveling.
It is my job to sew up this rip.
I will use my charisma to reunite those that need reuniting, I will bring up from the ashes those that have been incinerated and I will draw those who have left my island back home.
Somehow.
I need a few more days like today for the thinking to continue.
I think I have a low grade fever.
Next few things to waste my time: The Warriors (the 1979 cult movie based PS2 brawler in the tradition of Double Dragon, Final Fight and Streets of Rage which is one of my absolute favorite video games from when I was younger), Resident Evil 4 (the latest and greatest title in this survival-horror franchise. However, this one redefines the genre. It has been given 10 out of 10 by every reviewer that’s touched it. Gone are the days of moving tank-like through narrow hallways filled with zombies…this is a new breed of Res Evil and I am soaking in a tub filled with Excitement Salts. The only thing that tops Res Evil 4 is the trailer for Res Evil 5…for the PS3. Holy shit. Holy liquid shit.) and I think there’s some movies or DVD’s or CD’s or whatever coming out as well.
Another big thing coming up: Seeing Nine Inch Nails for the fifth time next week. Because I joined the fan club thing, I am entitled to early admission, a meet and greet with the band and a chance to see them at soundcheck. Imagine NIN playing for you and 20 other people. Wow. I think I’m going to get there stupidly early. Not like Beck (two hours early) or They Might Be Giants (five hours early) but stupidly early…like eight hours early. I signed up for a vacation day three months ago so, what the hoo hoo, might as well get real paid to hang out in front of Madison Square Garden for a third of the day. I’m going to pack peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I haven’t decided what I want the band to sign yet. I’m torn between bringing my Polaroid and having them sign their picture or having them sign the Prince notebook I mentioned earlier. I think that might stand out in their memory a bit. I think I’ll bring the camera and the notebook. At some of the venues, cameras are allowed in but no pictures are allowed during soundcheck or the meet and greet, but they are allowed during the show or vice versa or something else. Pretty much everything (how many people they let in early, how much of the soundcheck you get to see, if any, camera policies etc) is on a venue by venue basis. After I get the autographs on whatever, I’ll pick up the venue lithograph (they make a new one for every date on the tour and they look pretty awesome; they fit right in with the album artwork) and then I might retreat to the sound island in the middle of the pit. I’ve been to four NIN shows before this: Philly (where I was right in front of the stage in the pit), MSG (waaaay the fuck up in the nosebleed seats), Lakeland (back of the pit, by the sound island) and Hammerstein Ballroom (back of the pit, standing three feet from Mr. David Bowie). The first three were from their Fragility v 2.0 tour that included quite the fucking light show as well as three 30-foot high LCD panels that rotated down from the ceiling, displayed video and were also used as light sources. Amazing. The fourth and fnal date was on the first leg of their 2005 tour. This show was more about the music and getting used to playing the new stuff than it was about spectcle…at least that’s what Trent Reznor said; and compared to the Fragility shows, it wasn’t as much of a spectacle, but it was still quite a presentation. They had about six five-by-five LCD panels doing stuff (lights and shapes, but no video) plus the lighting rig, but nothing crazy. This leg of the tour however…woo wee. Aside from the crazy lights, they have about eight LCD screens behind the band that come from the top and bottom of the rigging (so 16 panels all together) that are sort of cut up or splintered to look like broken lines, behind all these is a huge cyke on which images are displayed AND at one point, a huge scrim is dropped at the lip of the stage so video can be projected onto it. I’m sure there’s mre crazy shit that I don’t know about and that I am going to be amazed. Anyway, of the three Fragility shows I attended, the Lakeland one was the best as far as sound quality, the amount of gothed out assholes slamming into me and placement for the impact of the visuals (lights, panels etc.) Although I have the opportunity to be right up front for this upcoming show, I think I will defer in favor of my Polaroid or Prince notebook (whichever I choose to bring), my lithograph and the reasons listed above (placement, sound, assholes etc.). Unlike a lot of people, I like to go to concerts to listen to the band (in the case of TMBG or Cake) and (in the case of Marilyn Manson, NIN or Beck) see the presentation. I love TMBG and Cake for their performances. The music and the banter, but for NIN, Manson and Beck (to name a few) they put on a show as well. Personally, I paid $70 to experience something, not to worry about my glasses being broken by some crowd surfing cocksucker or as I like to call them, cocksurfer. Whatever the case, I am stoked about this show; the set list is good and although there haven’t been many changes made to it since the start of this leg, you don’t get to see NIN every day…or every year for that matter and it’s always the utter shiznit. Actually, if any of the three people who still read this are interested, there are still tickets left for the MSG show next Thursday, November 3rd. You should come and see what all the buzz is about. Along with NIN, Death From Above 1979 and Queens of the Stone Age are playing (doing abbreviated sets, thank God. I don’t care much of a shit about either of tem, but it’s the price you pay for getting there early and meeting the band/seeing soundcheck.) I’m really stoked about soundcheck. I’ll get a chance to see a bit of the show without worrying about the assholes and cocksurfers but still get to be up front. Hopefully that will happen. Soundcheck it an elusive thing. He band has their schedule and depending on when the fan club members are let in, I might to see seven songs in their entirety or just the last thirty seconds of one…which would suck. The big things for me are seeing the soundcheck and then getting a full view of the concert, that’s all I ask. The height should help.
Here's some pictures...
From the first leg:
From this leg:
4:54 PM
Lots of blank staring today.
I think Chinese food for lunch would be great.
Chicken and brocolli without the brocolli.
3:09 PM
Today is cool and crisp and clear. Perfect day for thinking.
And I think everything I do is wasting time until something happens.
Talked to Christina NON Girlfriend today. Apparently her universe has turned to dust.
In her world, the Tower has fallen and everything is ichor.
She has agreed to see Christina Girlfriend and myself, no one else, not yet.
Her world needs rebuilding.
What’s more, she deserves rebuilding. Not many people understand just how much she rocks.
I think her spiritual destruction and resulting descion to become a recluse is but another symptome in this strange disease that has infected us all…Kaitlyn and Phil leave the continent, Christina hits rock bottom and then finds out there’s a basement, Alan and Lisa make like bananas and split…
Things are unraveling.
It is my job to sew up this rip.
I will use my charisma to reunite those that need reuniting, I will bring up from the ashes those that have been incinerated and I will draw those who have left my island back home.
Somehow.
I need a few more days like today for the thinking to continue.
I think I have a low grade fever.
Next few things to waste my time: The Warriors (the 1979 cult movie based PS2 brawler in the tradition of Double Dragon, Final Fight and Streets of Rage which is one of my absolute favorite video games from when I was younger), Resident Evil 4 (the latest and greatest title in this survival-horror franchise. However, this one redefines the genre. It has been given 10 out of 10 by every reviewer that’s touched it. Gone are the days of moving tank-like through narrow hallways filled with zombies…this is a new breed of Res Evil and I am soaking in a tub filled with Excitement Salts. The only thing that tops Res Evil 4 is the trailer for Res Evil 5…for the PS3. Holy shit. Holy liquid shit.) and I think there’s some movies or DVD’s or CD’s or whatever coming out as well.
Another big thing coming up: Seeing Nine Inch Nails for the fifth time next week. Because I joined the fan club thing, I am entitled to early admission, a meet and greet with the band and a chance to see them at soundcheck. Imagine NIN playing for you and 20 other people. Wow. I think I’m going to get there stupidly early. Not like Beck (two hours early) or They Might Be Giants (five hours early) but stupidly early…like eight hours early. I signed up for a vacation day three months ago so, what the hoo hoo, might as well get real paid to hang out in front of Madison Square Garden for a third of the day. I’m going to pack peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I haven’t decided what I want the band to sign yet. I’m torn between bringing my Polaroid and having them sign their picture or having them sign the Prince notebook I mentioned earlier. I think that might stand out in their memory a bit. I think I’ll bring the camera and the notebook. At some of the venues, cameras are allowed in but no pictures are allowed during soundcheck or the meet and greet, but they are allowed during the show or vice versa or something else. Pretty much everything (how many people they let in early, how much of the soundcheck you get to see, if any, camera policies etc) is on a venue by venue basis. After I get the autographs on whatever, I’ll pick up the venue lithograph (they make a new one for every date on the tour and they look pretty awesome; they fit right in with the album artwork) and then I might retreat to the sound island in the middle of the pit. I’ve been to four NIN shows before this: Philly (where I was right in front of the stage in the pit), MSG (waaaay the fuck up in the nosebleed seats), Lakeland (back of the pit, by the sound island) and Hammerstein Ballroom (back of the pit, standing three feet from Mr. David Bowie). The first three were from their Fragility v 2.0 tour that included quite the fucking light show as well as three 30-foot high LCD panels that rotated down from the ceiling, displayed video and were also used as light sources. Amazing. The fourth and fnal date was on the first leg of their 2005 tour. This show was more about the music and getting used to playing the new stuff than it was about spectcle…at least that’s what Trent Reznor said; and compared to the Fragility shows, it wasn’t as much of a spectacle, but it was still quite a presentation. They had about six five-by-five LCD panels doing stuff (lights and shapes, but no video) plus the lighting rig, but nothing crazy. This leg of the tour however…woo wee. Aside from the crazy lights, they have about eight LCD screens behind the band that come from the top and bottom of the rigging (so 16 panels all together) that are sort of cut up or splintered to look like broken lines, behind all these is a huge cyke on which images are displayed AND at one point, a huge scrim is dropped at the lip of the stage so video can be projected onto it. I’m sure there’s mre crazy shit that I don’t know about and that I am going to be amazed. Anyway, of the three Fragility shows I attended, the Lakeland one was the best as far as sound quality, the amount of gothed out assholes slamming into me and placement for the impact of the visuals (lights, panels etc.) Although I have the opportunity to be right up front for this upcoming show, I think I will defer in favor of my Polaroid or Prince notebook (whichever I choose to bring), my lithograph and the reasons listed above (placement, sound, assholes etc.). Unlike a lot of people, I like to go to concerts to listen to the band (in the case of TMBG or Cake) and (in the case of Marilyn Manson, NIN or Beck) see the presentation. I love TMBG and Cake for their performances. The music and the banter, but for NIN, Manson and Beck (to name a few) they put on a show as well. Personally, I paid $70 to experience something, not to worry about my glasses being broken by some crowd surfing cocksucker or as I like to call them, cocksurfer. Whatever the case, I am stoked about this show; the set list is good and although there haven’t been many changes made to it since the start of this leg, you don’t get to see NIN every day…or every year for that matter and it’s always the utter shiznit. Actually, if any of the three people who still read this are interested, there are still tickets left for the MSG show next Thursday, November 3rd. You should come and see what all the buzz is about. Along with NIN, Death From Above 1979 and Queens of the Stone Age are playing (doing abbreviated sets, thank God. I don’t care much of a shit about either of tem, but it’s the price you pay for getting there early and meeting the band/seeing soundcheck.) I’m really stoked about soundcheck. I’ll get a chance to see a bit of the show without worrying about the assholes and cocksurfers but still get to be up front. Hopefully that will happen. Soundcheck it an elusive thing. He band has their schedule and depending on when the fan club members are let in, I might to see seven songs in their entirety or just the last thirty seconds of one…which would suck. The big things for me are seeing the soundcheck and then getting a full view of the concert, that’s all I ask. The height should help.
Here's some pictures...
From the first leg:
From this leg:
4:54 PM
Lots of blank staring today.
I think Chinese food for lunch would be great.
Chicken and brocolli without the brocolli.
My eyeballs want out...
10.25.05
10:23 PM
My eyes ache from reading comics all night and I have a pounding headache from the reading combined with all the sugar and bleached carbs I’ve consumed today, so I think I’ll just write for a spell. I know, I know, you’re thinking, “But Paul, you silly cow catcher, staring at a computer screen for 47 minutes will probably do more damage than merely reading. You idiot.” Ah, but I hunt and peck so I am simply staring at 70 or so black keys with white writing on them. So fuck you. Man am I wasted. Things are happening without my knowing.
The Wedding was funish. Hung out with an awesome combo: An Asian lesbian. Her name is Kim Rose and she is in a band. She rocks. She roxoors. She also drove a rented Safari Plus. Yes. PLUS. I think we will hang out with her again soon. You guys might dig her.
Wait….you guys? Who the fuck is that? I haven’t seen Kady in months (except for the Wedding), Christina and Dorothy (are they dead again?), Alan and Lisa…that might b weird.
Whoa, I actually just threw up in my mouth a little. For real. Not quoting “Dodgeball”, I actually did. It was unpleasant but funny as hell because everyone always says I but no one ever does it.
Birthday plans are getting solid. I am having a cocktail party at the Club on the evening of Saturday, January 28th, 2006. By invite only. If Megan does not go in with me for half, I have a fifty-person guest list to fill. Awww yeah. It is going to be swank. Dress hot or begone. I wonder whom I will invite. I mean some are no brainers, but what about people whom I used to be buddy buddy with but haven’t seen in years? Honestly, would they even give a shit? Probably not. So fuck them anyways.
It’s going to be great though.
So, something important and worrisome…
Yesterday I received in the mail a package from Oregon. It contained a spiral notebook. The cover and back cover were made from the record artwork from Prince’s “Parade” album. The only identification marks n it were the return address “Kat’s Meow” and an e-mail address on the inside kat_penguin@yahoo.com and some details about the notebook (printed on recycled paper, etc. This was very strange. BUT, the thing that pushed this from strange to worrisome is as follows: Recently, Will received a postcard from Samoa, with a picture of a fat Samoan man coming out of the water. On the back, written in Samoan was the word “Hello” in girly handwriting. Also, the sender write Will’s zip code as “008”. The fact that the two of us received these random, beautiful gifts in the same time frame is very unnerving. Will suspects Jade and I don’t know whom to suspect. Everyone knows I love Prince, but who knows Will is Samoan AND was or is in Samoa? Truly disturbing.
Anyway, back to the party. Clear your calendar, good close friends of mine, for you have a date on the evening of January the 28th.
Also, for anyone with a PS2, I highly recommend Indigo Prophecy. Despite the lesbian sounding title, it is quite the rocking good time.
It’s 10:54.
I will now prepare to leave.
10:23 PM
My eyes ache from reading comics all night and I have a pounding headache from the reading combined with all the sugar and bleached carbs I’ve consumed today, so I think I’ll just write for a spell. I know, I know, you’re thinking, “But Paul, you silly cow catcher, staring at a computer screen for 47 minutes will probably do more damage than merely reading. You idiot.” Ah, but I hunt and peck so I am simply staring at 70 or so black keys with white writing on them. So fuck you. Man am I wasted. Things are happening without my knowing.
The Wedding was funish. Hung out with an awesome combo: An Asian lesbian. Her name is Kim Rose and she is in a band. She rocks. She roxoors. She also drove a rented Safari Plus. Yes. PLUS. I think we will hang out with her again soon. You guys might dig her.
Wait….you guys? Who the fuck is that? I haven’t seen Kady in months (except for the Wedding), Christina and Dorothy (are they dead again?), Alan and Lisa…that might b weird.
Whoa, I actually just threw up in my mouth a little. For real. Not quoting “Dodgeball”, I actually did. It was unpleasant but funny as hell because everyone always says I but no one ever does it.
Birthday plans are getting solid. I am having a cocktail party at the Club on the evening of Saturday, January 28th, 2006. By invite only. If Megan does not go in with me for half, I have a fifty-person guest list to fill. Awww yeah. It is going to be swank. Dress hot or begone. I wonder whom I will invite. I mean some are no brainers, but what about people whom I used to be buddy buddy with but haven’t seen in years? Honestly, would they even give a shit? Probably not. So fuck them anyways.
It’s going to be great though.
So, something important and worrisome…
Yesterday I received in the mail a package from Oregon. It contained a spiral notebook. The cover and back cover were made from the record artwork from Prince’s “Parade” album. The only identification marks n it were the return address “Kat’s Meow” and an e-mail address on the inside kat_penguin@yahoo.com and some details about the notebook (printed on recycled paper, etc. This was very strange. BUT, the thing that pushed this from strange to worrisome is as follows: Recently, Will received a postcard from Samoa, with a picture of a fat Samoan man coming out of the water. On the back, written in Samoan was the word “Hello” in girly handwriting. Also, the sender write Will’s zip code as “008”. The fact that the two of us received these random, beautiful gifts in the same time frame is very unnerving. Will suspects Jade and I don’t know whom to suspect. Everyone knows I love Prince, but who knows Will is Samoan AND was or is in Samoa? Truly disturbing.
Anyway, back to the party. Clear your calendar, good close friends of mine, for you have a date on the evening of January the 28th.
Also, for anyone with a PS2, I highly recommend Indigo Prophecy. Despite the lesbian sounding title, it is quite the rocking good time.
It’s 10:54.
I will now prepare to leave.
10.22.2005
Dry cleaners are so soothing. I don't spend a whole lot of time in them, but today I had to pick up my shirt and suit for the wedding tomorrow and there were quite a few people in front of me, so I had time to drink in the atmosphere. The gentle hum of the motorized racks, the hissing of the press, the gentle Asian and wood feel to the place. Almost like a massage parlor. Gentle. Mmmm.
10.20.2005
There is no Hell like an old Hell
10.20.05
3:03 PM
Oh my goodness oh my goodness! The sky is so blue today!!
Two things:
First, cabs are getting/have gotten smaller. Either that, or I’m getting bigger and no one wants to consider that…
Secondly, goldurn it, life has to stop getting my hopes up.
Remember that day I had the VW audition where I had to be creepy and the Bacardi sexy French voiceover? Well, I got a callback for the VW thing which I did on Friday. I saw one other guy called in to be “creepy”. They told me the spot would be filming on Tuesday the 17th. For some reason I was really looking forward to booking that spot. I don’t know what it was but I really thought I was going to get it. Now, that’s always a bad sign. Every time you really want something, you don’t get it, it’s just the way things work. That goes double for acting. Anyway, Monday arrives with no phone call and I didn’t get it. Shit. I was in a bit of a funk, uncharacteristic for me; at least when pertaining to auditions, but for some reason this one really hit me. I think it was the fact that, I was ABSOLUTELY creepier than the other guy they called back. But I figured it out. When an on-screen commercial asks for “creepy” they want “Brad Pitt from 12 Monkeys” creepy. Not “Paul Guyet” creepy. And that bugs me. But it totally shouldn’t since on-screen stuff is SO specific.
Anyway, the main reason I brought up those auditions is; remember the recording girl who said I had a great voice? Well…in the case of VO, usually the timetable is as such: audition is Monday, callback (if there is one) is Wednesday and the recording is Friday. Four years later, you get paid. I had forgotten the French thing and written it off as either me being too sexy, or too French for them (since I am not capable of being neither sexy nor French enough for ANYTHING). So today, I had to drag my overly sexy and French ass over to the edge of Manhattan to do some Reebok VO audition. It was at 2pm and, in hopes of getting in and out early, I left my place at 12:30. I arrived at 14th street at 1pm so I stopped into Virgin and burnt some cash, then I headed over to 4fucking50 West Goddamned 15th street. I still arrived at 1:30 but the Reebok people were on lunch until 2. ANYWAY, I was the first to go in and who should be the recording engineer but the girl from last week. I do my thing (a British, casually hip (not too casual or too hip) guy saying, “Pump custom fit technology. Turn it on. Turn it off.”) and again the girl says, “You have a really great voice”. AND THEN she says, “You were here last week for the Barcardi thing, right? They haven’t decided on that yet.”
Therein lies the rub, people. I don’t want to know stuff like that. I want to think that if I haven’t been called back for a VO within a few days, I missed it, so I can move on. NOW I have to wonder every time my phone rings and it’s my agent that I just might book that. Fuck. I dislike hope. Not the concept. I love the idea of hope, but not when it comes to acting and me. If I don’t get the part, I’d like to forget it as quickly as possible and move on to the next thing. Because when I don’t get the Bacardi thing, I don’t want to think that the girl was right; I am good, but not good enough for this spot. It will get inside and get me down. Let me live from day to day, not thinking about auditioning I did a week ago. Let it be a great surprise when my agent calls up and says I booked something. Stop expecting things. This is more for myself than for any of you, but either way, it feels good to get it out. I walk into every audition thinking: “It is mine.” And I walk out thinking “I totally fucked up.” That way, when my agent’s number pops up I think “Oh, another audition”, not “Ooh a callback” or “Oooooh, I booked it”. I have NEVER expected to book something. THAT is why the surprise is so sweet and I’m never disappointed. I’ll sometimes think, “Man that would have been fun or cool,” but I’ll never walk out thinking, “I nailed that”. Actually, only once did I do that: with the Kermit the Frog thing. And that was because I WAS BABY KERMIT THE FROG. For that instant, I channeled the spirit of Jim Henson and made him speak. In no other audition have I so perfectly carried out a voice, and that’s why I booked it. In no other case has that happened…and it is that way for a reason. I guess the real recipient of this is the chick from House productions. Don’t get my hopes up, because from there they can only go down…on an old man in the park. And that is a gross place for ones hopes to be. Especially because it takes like, twelve minutes of lapping and sucking and manipulating just to get him hard, and that’s being kind because “hard” isn’t even the right word. “Less flaccid” fits better. Anyway, once it finally gets stiff enough, you have to work for like another half hour to get it out of him and you’re not even sure he can feel it, let alone enjoy it. Then there’s the mess. The elderly bust massive nuts.
But you see my point. The recording girl from House productions puts me in that place…and that is wrong of her…I’m sure she thought it would help but she was dead wrong…she’ll be the first to admit it…
3:03 PM
Oh my goodness oh my goodness! The sky is so blue today!!
Two things:
First, cabs are getting/have gotten smaller. Either that, or I’m getting bigger and no one wants to consider that…
Secondly, goldurn it, life has to stop getting my hopes up.
Remember that day I had the VW audition where I had to be creepy and the Bacardi sexy French voiceover? Well, I got a callback for the VW thing which I did on Friday. I saw one other guy called in to be “creepy”. They told me the spot would be filming on Tuesday the 17th. For some reason I was really looking forward to booking that spot. I don’t know what it was but I really thought I was going to get it. Now, that’s always a bad sign. Every time you really want something, you don’t get it, it’s just the way things work. That goes double for acting. Anyway, Monday arrives with no phone call and I didn’t get it. Shit. I was in a bit of a funk, uncharacteristic for me; at least when pertaining to auditions, but for some reason this one really hit me. I think it was the fact that, I was ABSOLUTELY creepier than the other guy they called back. But I figured it out. When an on-screen commercial asks for “creepy” they want “Brad Pitt from 12 Monkeys” creepy. Not “Paul Guyet” creepy. And that bugs me. But it totally shouldn’t since on-screen stuff is SO specific.
Anyway, the main reason I brought up those auditions is; remember the recording girl who said I had a great voice? Well…in the case of VO, usually the timetable is as such: audition is Monday, callback (if there is one) is Wednesday and the recording is Friday. Four years later, you get paid. I had forgotten the French thing and written it off as either me being too sexy, or too French for them (since I am not capable of being neither sexy nor French enough for ANYTHING). So today, I had to drag my overly sexy and French ass over to the edge of Manhattan to do some Reebok VO audition. It was at 2pm and, in hopes of getting in and out early, I left my place at 12:30. I arrived at 14th street at 1pm so I stopped into Virgin and burnt some cash, then I headed over to 4fucking50 West Goddamned 15th street. I still arrived at 1:30 but the Reebok people were on lunch until 2. ANYWAY, I was the first to go in and who should be the recording engineer but the girl from last week. I do my thing (a British, casually hip (not too casual or too hip) guy saying, “Pump custom fit technology. Turn it on. Turn it off.”) and again the girl says, “You have a really great voice”. AND THEN she says, “You were here last week for the Barcardi thing, right? They haven’t decided on that yet.”
Therein lies the rub, people. I don’t want to know stuff like that. I want to think that if I haven’t been called back for a VO within a few days, I missed it, so I can move on. NOW I have to wonder every time my phone rings and it’s my agent that I just might book that. Fuck. I dislike hope. Not the concept. I love the idea of hope, but not when it comes to acting and me. If I don’t get the part, I’d like to forget it as quickly as possible and move on to the next thing. Because when I don’t get the Bacardi thing, I don’t want to think that the girl was right; I am good, but not good enough for this spot. It will get inside and get me down. Let me live from day to day, not thinking about auditioning I did a week ago. Let it be a great surprise when my agent calls up and says I booked something. Stop expecting things. This is more for myself than for any of you, but either way, it feels good to get it out. I walk into every audition thinking: “It is mine.” And I walk out thinking “I totally fucked up.” That way, when my agent’s number pops up I think “Oh, another audition”, not “Ooh a callback” or “Oooooh, I booked it”. I have NEVER expected to book something. THAT is why the surprise is so sweet and I’m never disappointed. I’ll sometimes think, “Man that would have been fun or cool,” but I’ll never walk out thinking, “I nailed that”. Actually, only once did I do that: with the Kermit the Frog thing. And that was because I WAS BABY KERMIT THE FROG. For that instant, I channeled the spirit of Jim Henson and made him speak. In no other audition have I so perfectly carried out a voice, and that’s why I booked it. In no other case has that happened…and it is that way for a reason. I guess the real recipient of this is the chick from House productions. Don’t get my hopes up, because from there they can only go down…on an old man in the park. And that is a gross place for ones hopes to be. Especially because it takes like, twelve minutes of lapping and sucking and manipulating just to get him hard, and that’s being kind because “hard” isn’t even the right word. “Less flaccid” fits better. Anyway, once it finally gets stiff enough, you have to work for like another half hour to get it out of him and you’re not even sure he can feel it, let alone enjoy it. Then there’s the mess. The elderly bust massive nuts.
But you see my point. The recording girl from House productions puts me in that place…and that is wrong of her…I’m sure she thought it would help but she was dead wrong…she’ll be the first to admit it…
10.19.05
4:34 PM
What a beautiful day today. Almost…too beautiful…I suspect terrorist involvement. Raising personal threat level from tangerine to raspberry.
We’re through the looking glass, people.
Salubriously though, it was an unreasonably sexy day ot today. I predict it is one of the last we’ll see this year. Of the seven perfect days, I believe we’ve used five or six, so get ready for the Anus Weather to begin. That kind of weather that makes you wish you were puckered up in a pair of nice warm trousers…like an anus.
Jesus Christ I’m going to another wedding this weekend. Marlena and Will (not Pxmxrxntz, different Will) are getting married. Yeesh. NO more weddings for a while, okay? Any more and I might just make feces in my pants. I will make sure to send the happy couple my poo poo pants as a sign of my happiness and pooping. Be warned, you filthy pig fuckers, be very knob gobbling warned.
And now, some haiku.
Anus Weather comes
Bundle up! Pucker up too.
Icicles will probe…
The Coughing Lady
My word! How she coughs! GARF!! GARF!!
I ignore her act.
4:34 PM
What a beautiful day today. Almost…too beautiful…I suspect terrorist involvement. Raising personal threat level from tangerine to raspberry.
We’re through the looking glass, people.
Salubriously though, it was an unreasonably sexy day ot today. I predict it is one of the last we’ll see this year. Of the seven perfect days, I believe we’ve used five or six, so get ready for the Anus Weather to begin. That kind of weather that makes you wish you were puckered up in a pair of nice warm trousers…like an anus.
Jesus Christ I’m going to another wedding this weekend. Marlena and Will (not Pxmxrxntz, different Will) are getting married. Yeesh. NO more weddings for a while, okay? Any more and I might just make feces in my pants. I will make sure to send the happy couple my poo poo pants as a sign of my happiness and pooping. Be warned, you filthy pig fuckers, be very knob gobbling warned.
And now, some haiku.
Anus Weather comes
Bundle up! Pucker up too.
Icicles will probe…
The Coughing Lady
My word! How she coughs! GARF!! GARF!!
I ignore her act.
10.15.2005
10.14.2005
The troofus...xmax.
10.14.05
3:32 PM
Just now some woman from Mt. Sinai Hospital asked for some patient info from me. After that, she asked what department she was talking to. I have only had a venti caramel Frappuchino (I don't feel bad about misspelling that since it isn’t really a word...) and a Starbuck’s crumb cake for sustenance today and because of this I was almost unable to surpass the urge to inform her that this was the “Bootylicious Department. I think I found out how caffeine and sugar still affect me: when they are A. the only things in my body and B. when they are combined. I am as jittery as a chipmunk and I feel a diarrhea hurricane building up inside of mine anus, but I am enjoying myself nonetheless. Will wants me to shriek, “Shut the fuck up!” into the intercom of some annoying patients’ room and today he might just get his wish.
In other news, I am planning a Batman party for next weekend. The only tricky thing is I have a wedding either Saturday or Sunday and whichever day it isn’t, will be the Batman party. This party will consist of a screening of Batman and Batman Begins (maybe Batman Returns if I pick it up). After that, we will listen to the Batman soundtrack. If you don’t dig on Prince, begone. Then maybe some Bat Martinis and Bat Cakes. God I’m energetic.
I’ve recently taken to playing Su Doku. You should all check it out if you have vast gulfs of time that need filling with something aside from staring blankly and drooling, although there is nothing wrong with either of those activities.
HA! I just shocked a woman into silence by saying “HellothisistheoperatorhowmayIhelpyou?” in half a second. WOO! My lord. I feel like Beavis in his Cornholio state. Cornholio, but more focused. I dig it, ‘all. I. Dig. It. SHOVELS PEOPLE! Fuckin’ shovels.
Is “gerbit” a word? It certainly should be. [GUR-bit].
4:24 PM
I was just leafing through today’s Daily News to get to the Su Doku and saw the headline “1 Killed, 2 Hurt by Gunfire”. My first thought was, “Yup, gunfire’ll do that.”
3:32 PM
Just now some woman from Mt. Sinai Hospital asked for some patient info from me. After that, she asked what department she was talking to. I have only had a venti caramel Frappuchino (I don't feel bad about misspelling that since it isn’t really a word...) and a Starbuck’s crumb cake for sustenance today and because of this I was almost unable to surpass the urge to inform her that this was the “Bootylicious Department. I think I found out how caffeine and sugar still affect me: when they are A. the only things in my body and B. when they are combined. I am as jittery as a chipmunk and I feel a diarrhea hurricane building up inside of mine anus, but I am enjoying myself nonetheless. Will wants me to shriek, “Shut the fuck up!” into the intercom of some annoying patients’ room and today he might just get his wish.
In other news, I am planning a Batman party for next weekend. The only tricky thing is I have a wedding either Saturday or Sunday and whichever day it isn’t, will be the Batman party. This party will consist of a screening of Batman and Batman Begins (maybe Batman Returns if I pick it up). After that, we will listen to the Batman soundtrack. If you don’t dig on Prince, begone. Then maybe some Bat Martinis and Bat Cakes. God I’m energetic.
I’ve recently taken to playing Su Doku. You should all check it out if you have vast gulfs of time that need filling with something aside from staring blankly and drooling, although there is nothing wrong with either of those activities.
HA! I just shocked a woman into silence by saying “HellothisistheoperatorhowmayIhelpyou?” in half a second. WOO! My lord. I feel like Beavis in his Cornholio state. Cornholio, but more focused. I dig it, ‘all. I. Dig. It. SHOVELS PEOPLE! Fuckin’ shovels.
Is “gerbit” a word? It certainly should be. [GUR-bit].
4:24 PM
I was just leafing through today’s Daily News to get to the Su Doku and saw the headline “1 Killed, 2 Hurt by Gunfire”. My first thought was, “Yup, gunfire’ll do that.”
10.13.2005
Breep breep breeeeep breeeeeeeeeep!!!
10.13.05
9:49 PM
Taking a moment to admire and give kudos to the Stylophone solo at the end of Kanye West’s single “Gold Digger”. It adds a unique feel to this wonderfully infectious song. Other artists that have used the Stylophone in their works include They Might Be Giants (in their recent “Spine Hits The Road” tour and in the song “Dan Vs. Cog”), David Bowie (Space Oddity), Beck (his latest tour) and Aussie protest dork rocker, Rolf Harris (pretty much every song he’s ever done). Welcome to the Club, Kanye…and no, Jamie Foxx may not come in.
9:49 PM
Taking a moment to admire and give kudos to the Stylophone solo at the end of Kanye West’s single “Gold Digger”. It adds a unique feel to this wonderfully infectious song. Other artists that have used the Stylophone in their works include They Might Be Giants (in their recent “Spine Hits The Road” tour and in the song “Dan Vs. Cog”), David Bowie (Space Oddity), Beck (his latest tour) and Aussie protest dork rocker, Rolf Harris (pretty much every song he’s ever done). Welcome to the Club, Kanye…and no, Jamie Foxx may not come in.
10.12.05
7:02 PM
Umbrellas litter the streets like the corpses of strange robotic birds. Going outside wearing nothing but a hat to keep the rain off my head lends an odd sense of invulnerability. It isn’t very cold outside, just wet. This kind of weather can wear on your bones and earlier I felt pain in the joints of the thumb and index fingers of my right hand, but to go out for just a few moments is interesting. Like you are above feeling cold and wet. Like you’re on some other plane. Close to, but not quite part of this one.
I think the aching in my joints is a bad sign.
10:27 PM
Three people died in here today. One of them was a man who I have never met, but whose name I have been hearing for as long as I have been here. I know it doesn’t matter fuck all to any of these gibbering idiot-ass security guards and I’m not sure if or how it matters to me, but I just think it’s worth mentioning. I don’t know why, I just think it is.
7:02 PM
Umbrellas litter the streets like the corpses of strange robotic birds. Going outside wearing nothing but a hat to keep the rain off my head lends an odd sense of invulnerability. It isn’t very cold outside, just wet. This kind of weather can wear on your bones and earlier I felt pain in the joints of the thumb and index fingers of my right hand, but to go out for just a few moments is interesting. Like you are above feeling cold and wet. Like you’re on some other plane. Close to, but not quite part of this one.
I think the aching in my joints is a bad sign.
10:27 PM
Three people died in here today. One of them was a man who I have never met, but whose name I have been hearing for as long as I have been here. I know it doesn’t matter fuck all to any of these gibbering idiot-ass security guards and I’m not sure if or how it matters to me, but I just think it’s worth mentioning. I don’t know why, I just think it is.
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