I don't have much to say, but thought I'd pop my head in.
Really, I came to brag. I've decided to drop $ on concerts this year. I'm old enough and earn enough that I no longer need to accept nosebleed or lawn seats to see a show. So the concerts I have tickets for now are.
Coldplay
NIN
NIN
Radiohead
Yes, that's nine inch nails twice. I've seen them(him) three times in the past and that show has never failed to knock me off my feet. (Not literally, I never buy floor tickets for a show like that.)
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Focus slowly returns
For the past couple weeks I haven't been fired up for much. Maybe it's a subtler form of post perfomance depression, but it wasn't at all bad. I watched movies, saw friends, got a ton of sleep. I just never really felt the itch to get creative.
For two reasons the juices are flowing. One, the script I've been writing (oh so slowly) has finally been finished. At least the first draft. I've been working on it since November and it's about four months overdue. For the last week I'd been pecking away, promising to write at least four pages but walking away after two. This past week the muse sat down next to me and we cranked out the last twenty five pages in three sittings. Now it's off to the guy I'm working on the story with and we can start hacking away at it.
Finishing the first draft is always a bittersweet experience. You've finally gotten all those pages down. The big push to just get it to the the end is done. Might as well jump. (Jump!) Do a funny dance. Drink something. I did all of these things and more. Then run away from it for a week and read it all back. I promise, it'll be crap. The real work begins now.
Of course, now that I've finished the first draft for this script I have to get into story meetings with the second guy I'm working with. This involves doing a remake of an old movie, obviously can't say which. Where the other script our intention is to raise financing and shoot guerilla ourselves (and the script is tailored to it) this one is a spec script, with some nebulous connection to a NY producer. I never get my hopes up about that kind if stuff, I'm far more interested in writing the script itself.
The second thing that happened was hanging out with the Martin & Silveira boys last night. Apparently I know a little more about wrangling ProTools than they do. I've been banging my head against it longer. Ran into the boys at the watering hole at the beginning of the week and they asked me to stop by. Had a great time listening to, discussing, and playing music.
My batteries are recharged.
For two reasons the juices are flowing. One, the script I've been writing (oh so slowly) has finally been finished. At least the first draft. I've been working on it since November and it's about four months overdue. For the last week I'd been pecking away, promising to write at least four pages but walking away after two. This past week the muse sat down next to me and we cranked out the last twenty five pages in three sittings. Now it's off to the guy I'm working on the story with and we can start hacking away at it.
Finishing the first draft is always a bittersweet experience. You've finally gotten all those pages down. The big push to just get it to the the end is done. Might as well jump. (Jump!) Do a funny dance. Drink something. I did all of these things and more. Then run away from it for a week and read it all back. I promise, it'll be crap. The real work begins now.
Of course, now that I've finished the first draft for this script I have to get into story meetings with the second guy I'm working with. This involves doing a remake of an old movie, obviously can't say which. Where the other script our intention is to raise financing and shoot guerilla ourselves (and the script is tailored to it) this one is a spec script, with some nebulous connection to a NY producer. I never get my hopes up about that kind if stuff, I'm far more interested in writing the script itself.
The second thing that happened was hanging out with the Martin & Silveira boys last night. Apparently I know a little more about wrangling ProTools than they do. I've been banging my head against it longer. Ran into the boys at the watering hole at the beginning of the week and they asked me to stop by. Had a great time listening to, discussing, and playing music.
My batteries are recharged.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Juno - and my reaction to it.
So recently the lady friend and myself set up on the couch to watch the courageously hip, Academy Award winning indie flick Juno. Allow me to offer my thoughts.
In the first fifteen minutes my hair blew back like the Maxell commercial from the tidal wave of hipness I was encountering. Every second, every word of this movie is a mathematically precise example of chock-full-o'-hip. The soundtrack crawled out of the speakers in its indie-unwashed-tattooed-protesting way and hung out right next to your left ear to say, "See?! We're
HIP GODDAMMIT!" In complete defiance of the fact that teenagers don't speak that way, that parents are never that cavalier about their children mouthing off in that way, ("I should smack her for saying that, but it's just so witty and clever.") Juno never breaks stride. I thought this was going to be a long trip.
From minutes fifteen to thirty, I watched with my mental arms crossed. I decided I hated this girl. I hated the boy who knocked her up. I hate the adoptive family. I am watching just to keep watching to keep my street cred up. (I have a policy of finishing almost every movie I start to watch, notable exception to this rule is Freddie Got Fingered, horrible.) Most of all I hated myself for seeing Diablo Cody accept the Oscar for best screenplay and know deep in my heart what this movie was going to be, but still wanting to believe.
After minute thirty something strange happened. I grew a callous over my over-hip sensor, immune to the pop-culture references delivered wryly and self-congratulatory. The acting went from brash and masturbatory to actually being characters that interact. Bateman I liked, personally I think he delivered one of the hardest roles, not because he was the coolest or most heroic, but because he was believable, completely.
(On one note of pop-cult reference I liked, this movie does have the best reference to 80's after school cartoons I've ever seen.)
In the end, I had to like it. I realized, again, that movies aren't supposed to be real life, they're only going for verisimilitude. I know why the 50-to-80 year olds who make up the Academy loved the S.P., they have no idea how false it is.
Oh, and the soundtrack that drove a pick in my ear? I can't stop listening to it. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
In the first fifteen minutes my hair blew back like the Maxell commercial from the tidal wave of hipness I was encountering. Every second, every word of this movie is a mathematically precise example of chock-full-o'-hip. The soundtrack crawled out of the speakers in its indie-unwashed-tattooed-protesting way and hung out right next to your left ear to say, "See?! We're
HIP GODDAMMIT!" In complete defiance of the fact that teenagers don't speak that way, that parents are never that cavalier about their children mouthing off in that way, ("I should smack her for saying that, but it's just so witty and clever.") Juno never breaks stride. I thought this was going to be a long trip.
From minutes fifteen to thirty, I watched with my mental arms crossed. I decided I hated this girl. I hated the boy who knocked her up. I hate the adoptive family. I am watching just to keep watching to keep my street cred up. (I have a policy of finishing almost every movie I start to watch, notable exception to this rule is Freddie Got Fingered, horrible.) Most of all I hated myself for seeing Diablo Cody accept the Oscar for best screenplay and know deep in my heart what this movie was going to be, but still wanting to believe.
After minute thirty something strange happened. I grew a callous over my over-hip sensor, immune to the pop-culture references delivered wryly and self-congratulatory. The acting went from brash and masturbatory to actually being characters that interact. Bateman I liked, personally I think he delivered one of the hardest roles, not because he was the coolest or most heroic, but because he was believable, completely.
(On one note of pop-cult reference I liked, this movie does have the best reference to 80's after school cartoons I've ever seen.)
In the end, I had to like it. I realized, again, that movies aren't supposed to be real life, they're only going for verisimilitude. I know why the 50-to-80 year olds who make up the Academy loved the S.P., they have no idea how false it is.
Oh, and the soundtrack that drove a pick in my ear? I can't stop listening to it. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
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