Thursday, January 27, 2005

Free Ride Angie

My short story "Free Ride Angie" has been purchased by and will be in their April issue.

I've got a ridiculous amount of notes for my new screenplay "Lower Levels" and am tackling that.

More to come...

next up... my rant on god and religion.

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Ka like the wind

Yeah, yeah. I know. I said it would be over the next several days. I LIED. Been busy reviewing agent contracts, putting some more spit polish on a script, making notes for a new script... let's see... what else... oh yeah, working on the usual bullshit projects.

2004 was one hell of a year. I felt just about the full range of emotions last year. I could have easily had a breakdown. Could have easily murderered someone (and y'know what else? I'd be good at it.. this is scary, folks). I felt elation, and grief, and everything else in between and am standing on the other side looking back and flipping it two large middle fingers.

December itself was quite a learning experience for me.
I learned that sitting in mall traffic makes my hands ache in sort of arthritic way for a weapon of any kind. Something small caliber, y'know. Just big enough to destroy the vehicle in front of so I can drive through it's smoldering wreckage.

I've learned that I can be temporarily misguided by slightly attractive young women with a fake european accent. At least long enough to allow her to polish one of my thumbnails with the latest cosmetic she's trying to get me to buy for my wife.

I still hate the stomach flu. I hate throwing up. I hate becoming a human faucet for 24 hours.

2004 taught me that there are some certainties in my life.
My ka-tet of friends is as strong as ever.
I come close to tears each time I still hear adaggio for strings.
I can still, if I need to, write a screenplay in a month.
My kids infuritate me at times. And at others, make me love them so much it hurts.
My wife infuriates me at times. And at others, makes me love her so much it hurts.

But there are still a shitload of uncertainties. And for that, I will kiss the tips of my middle fingers and flip them at the sky and say bring it the fuck on.

I am guilty of saying it before, but 2005 is going to be a year of change.
Ka like the wind.

Bring it the fuck on.

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Goop of Goops

Over the next several days, I'll be updating the Coroner's Report each day; a lookback on last year and my current thoughts on a variety of topics, including, but not limited to: love, religion., death, sex, and the general state of the world.
Read it or don't.
Agree with all of it.
None of it.
Some of it.
Either way, it's cool with me.

But right now, I'm just plain exhausted. I achieved it again - I wrote another screenplay in a month's time. (I still have some revisions to do to three scenes, but other than that, it's good to go). Last time I did this, I was able to focus more specifically on just the screenplay. This time around, there were many, many, (fuckin many) other factors demanding my physical and mental attention that all achieved the current state that I'm in.

But it was worth it.
I typed two words Saturday evening that I'd been searching for. "The End."

Better than sex. Way better.

I don't mean the physical side of it - let's face it, there's not much better than the smell of perfumed breasts and the feeling of lips... heh... I'm getting ahead of myself here. That blog's later this week.

I'm talking about the mental side. The gratification. The sheer and utter satisfaction of being able to look at two words on the screen and walk away from your desk, crack a beer and go outside in the remainder of a stupidly warm New Year's Day.

I have a soft spot for my first screenplay, The Pink Room. It was like losing my virginity. I look back on it now, and I see flaws with it. There's some soft spots to be sure. Areas of sexiness that got my engine revved in the first place, and I idly think for a moment that if I had a few beers in me, I just might give it another go-round...

But this one... this one's like fantasy sex. The kind that leaves you staring at the ceiling with a line of spittle off your lip, wondering what in the fuck kind of lab experiment was just done on you that produced THAT kind of orgasm.


Well... I'm burning daylight friends. I'm going to go grab a Red Bull and go tend things.