How Awesome Is This?

An Old Spice commercial featuring Bruce Campbell singing a lounge-lizard version of Duran Duran's "Hungry Like The Wolf".
Brilliant.

End of the Year Mix

There were a lot of good albums that came out this year.
I made a mix of some tracks from my favorite releases from 2007.
Unfortunately, iTunes doesn't have the new Radiohead album "In Rainbows", which is one of the best things to come out this year. So I had edit my selection of songs. If you have "In Rainbows" this mix should start with the song "Weird Fishes" and you can add it yourself.
Anyway, check it out over at iTunes:

2007 Mix

Picture Day

They say a picture's worth a thousand words.
I want to know this guy's tale.

Early Gilliam

Two animated short films by Terry Gilliam:

Storytime (1968)


Miracle of Flight (1974)

Early Kubrick

Stanley Kubrick made 3 short documentary films before turning to narrative with his first feature film "Fear and Desire". I've always wanted to see these four films but they're not readily available. Thanks Youtube.

Day of The Fight (1951)


Flying Padre (1951)


The Seafarers (1953) Part 1


The Seafarers (1953) Part 2


The Seafarers (1953) Part 3


Fear and Desire (1953)

New Orleans to New York

Footage from my move up here in 2003.

Signing Off

Check out the WGA's blog with all sorts of interesting tidbits about this strike.

I read an article yesterday about entertainment bloogers going on strike as well, in support of the writer's strike. I thought that was funny. But then I thought: "Hell, no one reads this blog anyway and I'm hard-pressed for a reason to actually keep it going. Why don't I say that I TOO am striking in solidarity to cover up the fact that I really don't feel like writing on here?"

Good idea.

So yeah. That's where I'm at.
Maybe when the strike's over I'll have something new to write about. Maybe not.

Adieu...

Didn't Even Have To Use My AK

It was a good day.

Thanks to my landlady's tendency to hold off on cashing the rent check until the week before the next one is due, I have narrowly avoided financial ruin.
This afternoon the first check from my handful of freelancing gigs arrived in the mail.
I hurriedly went to the city and deposited it into my account.

I've been checking my balance daily for the last couple weeks, waiting for the rent check to clear. I've mentally taken it out already, so with each day I was prepared to find my pre-vized $1.95 ending balance become my actual $1.95 ending balance.

After depositing my check, I passed by a sushi bar that was closing for the evening. They were selling their remaining boxed suhi meals for 50% off. I was able to get some spicy tuna, salmon, and vegetable rolls for a total of $6.25.

I have a paid focus group on alcoholic beverages to attend tomorrow evening and a friend called and said she has some work for me next week.

Not exactly a windfall, but anything is welcome at this point.

NaNoWriMo Is Here

Yes. November is National Novel Writing Month and, as I haven't been working regularly and find myself spending hours and hours in front of my computer at home whiling away the hours, I decided I'd join in the fun and try to get something productive done.

I was also asked by a friend a few weeks ago if I'd like to join her writing group, so I'll be working on stuff for that too.

Originally I had intended to use NaNoWriMo as an excuse to finish my years-in-progress New Orleans novel, but since they frown on bringing previously written material to the table I figure I'll workshop that book in the writing group and work on a completely new novel this month.

Ambitious? Yes.
But why not give it a shot?

Cops and Luchadores

Last night I edited a trailer together for the film I was editing this spring/summer.
I was just playing around with some new film filter plug-ins for Final Cut. The film is supposed to be a Mexican action film from the 70s, and I think the trailer looks pretty close to something like that. Aside from the font I used in the beginning.

So True

Poll: Bullshit Is Most Important Issue For 2008 Voters

Dwindle, Dwindle, Little Star

Lord grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can, and
the wisdom to know the difference.

It appears that one of the things I cannot change in my life is the always prevalent lack of money. In 33 years I still have not learned a damn thing about money. When I have an income it just passes through my hands like water. I get overzealous and say things like, "I am going to pay back my debts and get back on top".

Unfortunately, poverty is always lurking around the corner, and if I kept my wits about me when I was flush I would laugh and say, "My student loan lenders can continue to go fuck themselves. Who do I look like, Warren Buffett?"

It's never a smart move on my part to think I'll have money next month. Because, as the years have proven, I most likely will not.

I should stop buying things I don't need, yes. But those are the only things that give me enjoyment in life. What's the point in living if you can't own the Super Deluxe Special Edition Boxed Set DVD of your favorite movies?

Mystery Solved

The riddle of the employer who set up an interview with me without my knowledge has been cracked.
Turns out a friend of mine had sent my resume to the executive producer over at Time. She hadn't told me this before. They're staffing up right now and she told me to "impress them". I was also told that they really like her so I have a leg up already, which basically means that if I fuck this up I must really suck.

Back To The Well

Last Saturday I went to West Chester to film a reunion show of some old friends' bands. It'll be part of a longer documentary that my brother and I are working on about the whole punk music scene in our hometown in the early-mid 90s. I got some great ideas for the doc while I was filming and also lined up a bunch of interviews with people. Also talked some other people who were there filming to work with us and let us use their footage.

I had only planned to stay for the night, but since I didn't have a job to go back to, I ended up staying at my parents' for a week. I only brought one change of clothes, so I ended up doing laundry every day I was there.

It was a good thing I stayed too because my imagination roamed free for the week and I had quite a few ideas for films. Being back in the area where I was most creative got the juices flowing again.

A few weeks ago my friend Andy and I started brainstorming on various movie ideas that either I had or he had via email. We've been riffing off each other's stories since we were in kindergarten, so it's pretty easy and we have similar tastes a lot of the time. It's been a big help in getting me out of the creative funk I've been in. We hung out one of the nights I was there. We ended up NOT going over story ideas and spent most of the night watching clips on YouTube of people getting prank calls or doing faceplants into brick walls, but it was good nonetheless. On the drive back to my parents', he told me of his idea for a children's show which I thought was great and I look forward to brainstorming that soon too.

Now I am back in New York and need to get my ass back in gear. I got a message from a woman at Time Inc. about rescheduling my Wednesday appointment. The thing is, I don't remember ever setting up a Wednesday appointment. I googled the name of the guy whose office she said she was calling from and turns out he's a film/tv editor, but I absolutely have no recollection of ever setting up an appointment or even sending them a resume.

When I called back, there was no answer and it went directly to this guy's voicemail. I didn't want to sound like an idiot who didn't remember setting up an appointment, much less what this interview is for in the first place, so I just said, "Yeah, hi, ths is Dave Orsborn returning your call. Um, yeah, it would be fine to switch my interview from 11 to 2."

So I've got several days to figure out what this is about. And work on some much-needed writing now that I've got a head full of ideas again.

I Feel Irrelevant

I do.
There's not much more to say about that.

I can relate

Whatcha Doin' with Yerself?

Job hunt still going.

I've plotted out an idea for a screenplay I want to start writing. I figure with the time I have off, I should start working on something. Something of my own.
If I push myself, maybe I can get something finished. Problem is, I really like sleeping.
Been doing a lot of that the last week and a half.

I Googled myself and found that YahooTV has updated my profile. I don't know who they have researching all that stuff, but it's cool to see that someone is keeping tabs on you. Of course, they have my birthdate as November 30, 1999. Guess I'm pretty productive for a seven year old.

Read an old article about a research study that discovered that sunlight deprivation shrinks mice's brains. I was trying to find out if there were links between my recent case of severe depression and my working overnights for the last year and a half. Interesting.

Someone on MySpace linked to website that gives the number one song for any day you want to look up. The gimmick is that the number one song on your 18th birthday is supposed to be the song of your life. I'm not sure if Mr. Big's "To Be With You" define's my life per se, but it's fun to look up what was the hit at certain times in your life. It's useless and random, but I like knowing that Terry Jacks' "Seasons In The Sun" ruled the airwaves the day I was born.

Met this girl Rachel at a party the other night who is a published writer. She has a short story collection out and just finished her novel. I picked her brain about the life of a writer and pitching to book editors and agents. Told her about my New Orleans novel and how I'm restructuring it as a memoir. She says that's the new trend for books and that it was a good idea to do it that way. Her husband and I talked about comic books and how the porn industry dictates which distribution format is gonna be the next big thing. (They were the first industry to fully embrace VHS, then DVD, and now they're all about HDDVD. Sorry BluRay.)

Aside from these things and sending out my resume, though, most of my time is spent sleeping and watching TV.
Ah, freelancing...

Last Night of Work

Tonight is the last night I'm working on this particular show and I've got this Beatles song in my head:

the roof is on fire

the roof is on fire
Originally uploaded by photophobia

Contrary to popular belief, every now and then I DO crack a smile and enjoy myself. A couple weeks ago our friend Guevara threw a rooftop party at his digs in Chinatown. Jeremiah and his ever-present camera captured this as-of-late rare moment.

Done part 2

I quit my job last night.

As I was setting up to online a sequence for previews I came across a what-we-thought-was-tragic technical problem.
It was not looking good and I was fed up and the supervisor was freaking out and I told him, "I can't do this anymore."

He looked at me with an open mouth and didn't speak.

"I just can't do it anymore, man. I'm afraid to even touch a computer for fear everything is gonna get fucked up. The level of problems on this show is beyond my level of experience and I can't help. I'm sick of it. I'll finish out the week, but I need to put this behind me."

Just a blank stare.

I eventually got things fixed and went back to working. Unfortunately, my co-worker has been sick the last two days, adding to my workload and stress. I have extreme difficulty multitasking and there is too much of that here. When I am focused on one job I can really get into it. But when I am pulled in 14 different directions at once I can't take it. I malfunction.

Later the post-supervisor called and tried to make nice, but I just wanted to leave. He said, "Well, episode 2 premiered tonight and it was a big success. Everyone's happy with it."

I didn't answer.

Done

14 hour workdays. Constant computer malfunctions. Headaches. Nausea. A steady stream of stressful bullshit.
"Dave Orsborn's gonna kill someone, Dave Orsborn's gonna kill someone," sings my coworker as I scream obsenities at the latest system failure. We are not doing anything of value to society I remind myself. We are burning the hours of our lives away in a basement in Hell's Kitchen to put together another fucking reality television show. And we are working on computers that were built ten years ago. We've got a couple of hang-gliders and we're calling ourselves an airline. I come home miserable and exhausted and go to work dreading what's in store.
And I ask myself, "Is this worth the toll on my mental and physical well-being?"
My co-worker tried to quit last week and let the post production supervisor talk him out of it. Can't let myself be swayed like that.
I get woken up with angry phone calls from the daytime assistant for not being CC'd on emails.
The show is a train wreck. It'll be a miracle if it comes together.
We are not saving lives. We are not doing anything constructive for the world. Can't let the stress get to me anymore. I am exhausted. I am depressed.
I am done.

Congratulations Samantha!

My sister got engaged last night.
Here's to you and Joe!
Much love,
Dave

Keep Storage Legal

Finally! A place to keep all those aborted fetuses that have been littering my apartment!

Beats Getting Shivved in The Yard

Ah, the Philippines. In order to get the inmates to participate in the daily exercises, they devised a synchronized dance program. And it's gone over like gangbusters!

In fact, the warden has a deal in the works with a US film agency to distribute their videos.

Dang Blast It!

I am sick again.
The third time this summer.
I got sick once or twice a year before I moved here.
New York has ravaged my immune system.

Tell Me Something That Doesn't Suck

Bought a new phone last Monday.
Not even a week's gone by and none of the buttons work now, so I can't use it. Kyocera sucks.

We got our fifth new modem in the last 2 years on Tuesday. The most recent one died when the power went out a few weeks ago during a thunderstorm.
It's raining today. The internet goes out every half hour. DSL sucks. Verizon completely sucks.

Cover Your Ass

"One thing about this business you gotta get used to. Whenever you're not around, someone's blaming you for something."

So said the new assistant I work with as we tried to reorganize all the work that's been done before us in order that the editors can better understand where everything is. We have to make everything so clear a five year old can understand. But that's our job.

I noticed that some of the editors were shutting down equipment improperly and leaving workstations a mess. This is something I was told not to do, so I mentioned it to the supervisor, see if we can't all do things the same.

"That's the problem," he laughed. "It's really their perogative to do whatever they want. And it's my job to tell you when you do things wrong."

"So even if they do something wrong..." I said.

"...It's your fault," he finished.

Ugh.

We've also tried to streamline our work to do it as fast as possible and with a minimial amount of effort on our part.

Said my co-worker: "An old school grip once told me, 'I want to do as little as possible and get paid the most for it.' "

Words to live by.

New Orleans Post Apocalypse

There's a web comic online that I just discovered called After the Deluge, about New Orleans in the aftermath of Katrina. And, it turns out, one of the characters in the comic, Leo, is a guy I used to work with at the Virgin Megawhore. In fact all of the characters are real people, telling their real stories of dealing with the hurricane and the rebuilding afterwards.

Looks pretty good so far.

Currently Enjoying...

A Root Beer flavored Dum Dum.

The Pool's Open!

I forgot what train I was on this morning coming home from work and ended up several avenues from where I wanted to be. I decided to walk home rather than backtrack on the train.

When I got to my neighborhood I decided to take a walk around the park to see if the pool had been opened yet.

It has! And what's even better, there are adults-only hours in the early morning so I can swim when I get home from work in the morning. Hot damn! Because it is sweltering in my apartment now and it makes it more bearable to know I only have to go three blocks to jump in the pool if it gets too bad.

Providence Attacks!

My friend Billy and I went up to Providence, RI on Saturday to see our friend Neil perform at the Providence Improv Festival with his improv group Dr. God.

Traffic was backed up everywhere. There was a two hour wait to get over the George Washington Bridge, so we decided to keep going north (we were in Jersey, coming from Hoboken) and use the Tappan Zee bridge. It was then that Billy asked me if I remembered the directions.

He didn't print them out because they seemed pretty easy. I told him that he should've used GoogleMaps and asked why he had chosen GoobleMaps. He said it just took a bit longer to translate the directions from Russian to English, but it sure beats WikipediaMaps. The problem with WikipediaMaps, we agreed, was that the directions are measured in "paces" and all the destination points are marked by a large X under a palm tree. You usually have to travel through a Thieves Forest of some sort and a Dragon's Glen.

We got there with enough time to knock back a few beers before the show. The bar next to the theater was pretty empty, but within ten minutes of getting our beers, it was beseiged by a group of 30 people looking to do karaoke. Billy informed me that as he was returning from the bathroom he saw a fight between four guys, arguing over who would get to sing "Ace of Spades".

Later we discovered that these karaoke addicts were in town for the Transformer's Convention. I didn't know that there was actually a convention devoted to Transformer's fans. Now I do. And so do you.

We ended up drinking until the early morning and then crashing on the floor of Dr. God's hotel room. We left early to get Billy's car out of the parking garage we had left it in, only to discover that all the gates were closed.

We called the number for the security group to open the gates.

"Yeah, we don't usually open until noon." Well, that makes sense, we thought. Who wants to get up that early on a Sunday? As it was 10:45 am we decided to wait and just walk around the town.

Everything was closed.

It appears that Providence does not open until noon on Sundays.

We returned to the garage at noon and it was still closed.
It was still closed at 12:30.

Eventually I noticed a tattooed kid and some guy entering the garage and opening a gate on the other side of the garage. We walked around as a car pulled out of the open gate and the tattooed kid started walking away. We approached the gate and it started closing!

We both contemplated diving under the thing like Indiana Jones, but then we'd be locked inside.

"Hey man!" I yelled.

The tattooed guy turned around.

"Oh man," he said. "You got a car in there too?"

"Yeah. Can we get it."

"OK. Hey, uh, listen, we're supposed to charge ten bucks for opening the garage after hours."

When we entered the garage it said it was ten dollars to park there, so we weren't paying any more than expected.

"Sure man, here"

"Yeah," the guy said. "The garage is closed on Sundays, cuz it's like, the summer, and stuff..."

"You guys should put up a sign to let people know that," Billy said.

"Oh man...there's no sign?"

"No," we both said.

"Shit."

Providence being the kind of town that doesn't open until noon, we could totally understand why you would close a parking garage on Sundays becuse it was the summer and stuff.

See You At The Bar-B-Q

I've had bible thumpers and born-agains ask me time and time again if I was interested in spending eternity in heaven, and when I've said no they were baffled.

"But wouldn't you want to live in paradise?" they ask.

"Sure. But if it means I have to spend eternity with you, then it's not really paradise is it?"

I've always seen religion and it's focus on the afterlife, as a convenient way for some people to shirk their responsibilities as a human being. "I can turn my back on the suffering and misery around me and know that I will be saved and go on to greener pastures when I'm dead because I go to church every week and I've been re-reading the same book for my whole life."

Then, of course there are those nutjobs over at the Westboro Baptist Church. You know the folks who run GodHatesFags.com? They just hate everyone. Makes an old Gloomy Gus like myself want to go out and adopt an African child and start a shelter for abandoned animals. I mean, they can really suck the life out of a room!

And now, the WBC has released a music video of their hit, "God Hates The World".

Television Youth

The great thing about YouTube is the ability to relive your childhood in less-than-2 minute increments. Just watching the opening credits to cartoons and shows I was weened on brings on a wave of nostalgia. This is just a sampling. As you can see I grew up on a lot of fantastical junk. Explains a lot actually...

Spiderman


Flash Gordon


Battle of the Planets


The Banana Splits


Tales of the Gold Monkey


The Incredible Hulk


The Six Million Dollar Man


The Fall Guy

"Tell Me About That Novel You Been Workin' On"

Nearly ten years after I started writing it, after numerous computer crashes and losses and rediscoveries and false-starts, and at least 300 pages of semi-enjoyable prose, I have finally settled on a structure for my "novel". I use the quotes because it has become more of an interconnected collection of short stories/memoirs.

Now, the re(al)-writing begins...

The Illest Mother*!@#er From Here To Gardenia

Being sick in the summer sucks.
I haven't actually tasted a meal in over a week.
What's the point of eating?

There's about four other people in my office that are sick. The girl who started this all is feeling better now. Screw her. One co-worker is on serious anti-biotics and will probably get better before me. Screw them as well.

There's only enough room for hate in my thoughts right now. All the other space in my head is being occupied by excess mucus.

The other night as I walked to work in a cloud of Acetaminophen and Phenylephrine (aka Tylenol Cold&Flu), I realized that I can pretty much pinpoint when I moved to New York as the moment I stopped enjoying life so much. I don't know why, cuz I still love this city more than any place I've lived. But I've kinda stopped "living" since I've been here. I'm doing things I've always wanted to do and making progress in different areas, but it all feels so mechanical and empty. I'm only half here. My soul's moved elsewhere and I can't find it.

This is the funk I find myself in.
Being sick in the summer sucks.

Sense Memories

Drinking Red Bull when you're sick and congested tastes like jumping into a heavily chlorinated public pool and getting water up your nose. A bland anti-septic flavor. I am reminded of taking swimming lessons at the old Brandywine Inn across from the Downingtown Farmer's Market, as a child.

Several weeks ago as I was walking past Greenwood Cemetery, and smelled the freshly-cut grass, I was suddenly taken back to the summer of 1989, as my friends and I began working on our first "feature film" (on videotape). Always having delusions of grandeur, our first undertaking was a medieval sword and sorcery epic. As such we spent most of the summer dressed as knights and peasants, charging through backyards and fields with plastic swords and wooden shields. Every evening I'd have to shower off the wet blades of cut grass that caked my legs. It was a wonderfully fun summer, hanging with friends, running around like idiots, and capturing it all on video to watch again and entertain ourselves. Perhaps that's why I never finished the film and kept working on it for the following three years. It was too much fun to actually want to complete it and move on!

Simpletons

So the other day I saw an advertisement for the new season of The Simple Life with Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie. It is called The Simple Life Goes To Camp.


In light of Paris being sentenced to jail time recently I had to wonder whether the cameras would follow her there for The Simple Life Goes To Jail.

Which then made me realize they are just ripping off the Ernest movies.

Here are my ideas for future installments of The Simple Life:

Hope for the Ugly

Where does one go to meet women like this?

Damn You WebMD

So, thanks to information on the internet, I've diagnosed myself with cancer.

The other day I noticed a painful lump on the back of my head near the top, then yesterday my neck started getting sore, and today I discovered another lump on the back of my head on the left side, even with my ear, and one developing in my neck on the left side.

Upon looking up information on the internet, I've come to the conclusion that I have cancer and my head will explode within a fortnight.

Actually, I'm not too worried about it yet. If the lumps persist for a few weeks, I'll get it checked out by a doctor.

First Days

“Live each day as if it were your last”

That is one piece of advice that I don’t like.

I understand what is meant by the phrase, but in my reality, living each day as if it were my last would be the most counterproductive thing I could possibly do. I know this, because I have lived a few days as if they were my last, and they were god-awful.

If it were my last day, I wouldn’t get much done.

Knowing that tomorrow I will be dead would make me extremely choosy about what I would do on that last day. I would have trouble accepting invitations from friends to do anything, constantly thinking to myself, “Is that really what I want to do with my last day?”

Where would I want to eat my final meals? Who would I want to spend my final hours with? Do I really want to spend my last day going to work?

I think, if it were my last day, I would get really depressed about the things I haven’t done yet. Even if I got out of the house and did one of the things I wanted to do with my life, I couldn’t enjoy it really because I would constantly be thinking about the million other things that I am not able to do because I am spending my last day doing this.

And if I knew about the inevitable end in the coming hours, I would want to spend the day tending to my affairs and getting things ready for my being dead. Who has time to bungee jump from a helicopter over an active volcano, when I’ve got all this porn to delete from my computer? I really should clean the apartment too. And make sure my living will is up to date and my accounts are settled and I should send an email out to some people I haven’t talked to in a long time and there’s that Netflix movie I should mail back… There are pressing things that must be done before one dies!

So I would rather live each day as if it were my first.

I think it would be more beneficial to experience the world with the wonder of a newborn. There are so many things to do and learn and you’re pretty fascinated by it all.

Almost everything is more interesting when it’s new. A new love. A new job. A new car. Your first day of school.

Why wouldn’t you want to experience each day with that excitement of new possibilities rather than the dread of thinking you’ve wasted the last day of your life eating bad Chinese food from around the block and watching the season finale of “Heroes”?

Kick the Baby

Maybe this is why they invented the baby leash...


Oh, and don't forget to enjoy the remix of that video:

In Memory

I was looking around on MySpace at work tonight and discovered that an old high school friend had passed away. There were comments on his page saying how much he'd be missed. I went to the obituary section of The Daily Local News' website and discovered that my old friend Ken Miller had died this past weekend.

Ken had recently gotten in touch with me on MySpace and would occasionally send me messages about "the old days". Not that we were close friends, but we did run in the same circle.

He leaves behind three daughters, and if you remember Ken, or just feel like doing something good, you can make a memorial contribution to Hudson L. Voltz, PC Trust Account, FBO/Kenneth S. Miller III Children Educational Fund, 525 Highland Blvd., Suite 107, Coatesville, PA 19320

Nag Nag

"These cell phones are the new ball and chain," the man said to me.

We were standing by the back exit on the 63 bus to Bay Ridge. There were no seats available and, as it was 3:30 in the afternoon, the bus was filling up with school kids. He was an older man than me, somewhere in his late fifties or sixties. We were both jostled about as the kids poured on.

"My wife," he said. "I can't get away from her. Always calling to find out where I'm at."

"Just don't answer your phone," I offered.

"Nah. I tried telling her the battery's dead, but she don't buy it no more. Jeez. These things..."

He pressed the sensor strip to signal the driver he wanted to get off. The bus careened past two stops.

A man behind us got up and yelled, "How do you get off this thing??!!"

The bus pulled over at the next bus stop.

"What're ya, off to the races?" the man next me said for the bus driver to hear. He stepped off the bus, and nodded back to me as he did.

His cell phone began to ring, and he shook his head, laughing.

Another Weekend

Saturday afternoon I went down to Park Slope with the intention of getting a book or two at 7th Ave. Books, my favorite used bookstore.

On the way there I discovered that there were people having stoop sales on nearly every block. And, since Park Slope residents tend to be well-read, every stoop sale was selling old books. I hit about five different stoop sales, and picked up about 12 books before I even got to the used bookstore. And none of them were more than a dollar apiece!

Misha and I went out for drinks Saturday. At the bar, I overheard a girl behind me say she was going to a Cinco De Mayo party and remembered that a guy I work with was having a party, so we hopped a train up to Hamilton Heights and drank with a bunch of young twenty-somethings whom we found completely uninteresting.

There were bowls of NYC Condoms around and I inexplicably grabbed a handful and stuffed them in my pocket, as if I will have a need for them ever. Last time I actually bought some they sat around for a couple years until the time came to use one and it exploded into a cloud of dust as I tried to put it on.
If anybody does have a use for them, let me know, I'll send 'em to ya.

Afterwards we went to a bar in the East Village that Misha had stumbled into Friday night and was excited about because they let you smoke inside and girls danced on the bar. They were showing the De La Hoya/Mayweather fight there and it was packed and we had to wait until the fight was over and the place cleared out before folks started lighting up. Then a not-so-attractive girl got up and danced on the bar. It was not the diamond in the rough dive bar Misha had raved about and I left shortly afterwards.

Saw Spiderman 3 this afternoon and was completely bowled over by how incredibly lame it was. I usually accept the inevitable cheesiness factor when I see a Sam Raimi flick, but watching this made me feel like the fat, Gluttony victim in Seven, being force-fed Kraft Mac And Cheese dinners. The last half-hour, I think, was actually directed by Oprah Winfrey, and each character got to have a five minute crying scene where they got in touch with their feelings and sought forgiveness. I was waiting for Dr. Phil to step up to Spidey and The Sandman and help guide them through their emotions. Aunt May had so many "old wise man" speeches, I fully expect her to be sporting a Fu Manchu 'stache and living at the top of a mountain in Spiderman 4. When it intends to be funny, the movie is pretty good. The Bruce Campbell scene is classic! But Sam Raimi's never been very good at subtlety and when he tries to tackle intimate human emotions, the movie blows up in his face. Please Sam, do a non-Spiderman movie soon! You've clearly OD'ed on the guy.

In Brief...

Steve's friend Marsha used to be a personal assistant to Robert DeNiro and, as such, she gets free passes to the Tribeca Film Festival each year. Which she apparently never uses. So Steve convinced her to let he and I use the passes. We picked them up yesterday and saw Julie Delpy's film 2 Days in Paris, which I thought was very fast and funny. I enjoyed it a lot.

This morning I checked out Ed Burn's most recent effort Purple Violets, a less-than-stellar film. Ironically, I thought Delpy's film felt very "New York", with it's fast-paced editing and breezy chatter, whereas Burns, a born New Yorker, delivered a slow, plodding film that got caught up in too many cliches. Note to self and other filmmakers: I hate seeing "artists" in films talking about their roles as "artists" and how they have to sell out to survive. It's an old idea now. I have a lot of friends who are painters and writers and "artists" and we don't sit around and talk about the nature of art and how we must get back to the true essence of the creative force within. Well...not all the time anyway.

I was set to see two more films tonight, but this afternoon Marsha called my brother and said her sister was in town and she wanted to use the passes this weekend after all.

So I only got to see two films! And they were both romantic comedies about people in their early-mid 30s, having life/relationship issues. There were a few horror movies I wanted to check out and a couple of comedies, but alas, no such luck.

I have a big fascination with making lists. I like to make lists of things I've done or plan to do, books I've read or plan to read, music I've bought or plan to buy, movies I've seen or plan to see, etc. Last night I stumbled upon a site, that is all about that. It's called All Consuming and it allows me to keep track of all the crap I consume! I've added a little "Currently Consuming" section to the right of this blog, and I've just begun to catalog the many book, movies, cds I've consumed. It's a great time-waster for a big dork like myself.

I thought this story about the Iraqi Parliament's plans to take the summer off was just hysterical. I don't know, for all the talk of democracy failing over there, it appears that they grasped a fundamental aspect of American politics: the strong aversion to work.

I am for some reason really bothered by these little signs on the doors at Burger King that read: Buh-Bye!, then ask, You out? Thanks for stopping by! I hate when corporations try to be all hip and NOW and try to talk to people in street vernacular. I know that is so very 90's of me, but c'mon...if Burger King does want me to have it my way, can you please NOT remind me of David Spade's remotely humorous stewardess character on Saturday Night Live. I just ate.

While checking out some reviews on imdb, I discovered the next William S. Burroughs. His use of the English language is very unique and creative. Reminded me of the cut-up technique. At first I was put off by lines like "some people may have avoided watching this movie due to it's short footage but this movie changes the chronicles of many people's unchangeable thoughts over the footage of a movie", but after trying for a few minutes to figure out what exactly this guy was talking about, I decided that he was a Dadaist toying with the nature of language, quite possibly a genius, and none of us layfolk will ever understand the enigma of Evren Buyruk.

A Year in Comics

I started collecting comics again about a year ago. One of the first that I picked up was 52, a weekly, year-long comic that DC Comics put out, with multiple, intersecting storylines involving just about every character in their fold. Today, issue 52 of that endeavor was released. The story has come to a "close".

While I bought comics now and then when I was a kid, I can't say that I was ever a "collector" until now. As my friend John has pointed out, "Kids don't collect comics. What kid has the disposable income to spend on comics every week? You need a job." And at $3 for a single issue, he's absolutely right.

It's nice to have a hobby again, but in the last year it's cost me a couple thousand dollars.

Master Thespian

I went to an audition today for a short film a guy I work with is producing. It was actually the first time I ever really auditioned for something, so that was interesting. I didn't have a headshot, because I've never really fancied myself a "real" actor, so I quickly threw together a resume and photoshopped an old picture onto it. It took me all of twenty minutes. Fifteen of those were spent trying to figure out what film and theater productions I've been in and what I should include.

There's a funny dichotomy between my "film roles" and my "theater roles".

Casting Agent: Ah, I see you played Guildenstern in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. Oh! And I see you've played both "Street Thug #1" and "Mugger" in several films.

Often, when I'd be working on friends' films, I'd be asked at the last minute if I would care to play some punk bad guy. Nobody ever casts these roles, it seems, and just try to find the scariest-looking crew member to fill in when that shot finally comes around. And often, that crew member was me.

This particular role called for someone who could be either 25 or 45, the character being an alcoholic pizza maker who may or may not have spent time in prison. Again, my natural features came in handy!

It was fun to actually read for a part I probably will not get. I've been spoiled. I've acted now and then because I was asked to, not because I wanted to pursue an acting career and went after the roles on my own. I enjoyed experiencing that part of an actor's life.

The Die Hard Music Video

I found this video on someone's blog and had to share.

A Karmic Spendthrift Am I

Yesterday I awoke to the twittered chirping of a dying car alarm. Instead of the annoying sequence of whoops and whirs, all it could muster were quick beeps, albeit repeated beeps that continued uninterrupted from 8am until 5pm, when either the car battery died or the owner came home from work and stopped it.

As a result of this noise pollution, I couldn't really sleep in.

I decided to return a pair of jeans I had bought over the weekend that, upon bringing home, I realized I didn't fancy at all. So I hopped the train and went to the Atlantic Station mall.

As I was leaving Old Navy, having successfully exchanged my jeans for a proper pair, and buying a shirt and some boxers, I was approached by a homeless woman with sparse facial hair. she asked if I had any money so she could eat.

Coming out of a store where I had just spent $50 on clothes, I didn't feel right telling her I had no cash. So I reached in to my front pocket to fish out a single dollar. My fingers fiddled amongst the crumpled cash in my pocket and pulled one out.

Damnit! It was a five!

"Thank you so much," she said.

"Oh wait," I stuttered. "That's my only five. Here," I bluffed as I reached back in to get one of the singles I had originally planned on giving her.

When I handed her the ol' Washington, her smile dropped.

"Nevermind," she said. "That's not enough for a hot dog."

I turned to the hot dog vendor behind me and realized that he was charging $1.50 per hot dog. I motioned for her to come with me and we approached the cart.

"Tell the man what you want," I said.

"Two hot dogs," she told the vendor.

"Two? Lady, you're gonna break the bank!"

"It's just...I'm sick from hunger...and I really..."

"M'aam," I said. "I'm kidding. What else? Would you like a drink?"

"A Sprite," she said.

"Two hot dogs and a Sprite for the lady," I said to the vendor, handing him the five I had originally pulled from my pocket. The total came to four dollars. I took my dollar change and started to walk away.

"Thank you for your kindness," she told me.

"You have a good day," I said, then walked off.

I felt like I had created a little bit of good karma in that transaction. The sun was out, it was a warm day, and I decided to walk around for a bit before catching a bus home.

And then I immediately wasted that niblet of karma, by following an attractive hipster girl an extra two blocks out of my way because her purse was inadvertently causing her skirt to hike up as she walked, allowing me a view of her underwear.

Are You Now, Or Have You Ever Been?

I just got home from a long night at work. It's noon. It's a beautiful day. I'm tired as all hell.
But I can't sleep.

Why, you ask?

Because the Communist Party is outside my window, yelling in Spanish over a loudspeaker attached to the roof of a parked U-Haul truck.

As I don't understand Spanish I had no idea what they were talking about, but after about twenty minutes of some woman telling what seemed to be a short story, I wandered outside to find out what was up.

That's when someone on the corner handed me a "Revolution" newspaper. "voice of the revolutionary communist party, usa" it read underneath the banner.

Then I wandered across the street to a small shop and bought a $25 Power Player Nintendo Super Joystick that holds 75 games and attaches directly to the television.

I'm gonna play Super Mario Bros. and Contra until the revolution is over and I can go to bed.

Break the Chair

"If a broken chair has more latent resonance, potential meaning, than an unbroken chair, then break the chair."

A short documentary with director Mark Romanek

Short Film Don'ts

I've been editing a short film for some friends for the last couple of weeks.
They were trying to finish it by last Friday in order to submit it to the NY Latino Film Festival. They were still shooting as of last Sunday, and I was rushed into trying to whittle 10 hours of footage into a decent 20 minute film.

In addition to my regular job.

It was somewhat of a nightmare and I kept telling them they should take the time to edit it into a decent short, instead of rushing to just have something to submit. There was so much to edit. It's a parody of 70s Mexican action movies and there are multiple action/fight sequences.

It's a cool little short and I burned myself out trying to piece it together. The encroaching deadline was driving me nuts!

By Thursday morning at 11 am, I had completely a very rough cut of the entire piece. There was still a lot of sound work to do. At 3pm Thursday one of the producers called and told me they were taking my advice and were not going to submit it the following day and instead work on the editing more.

I breathed a sigh of relief and took the weekend to restore my energies. I didn't return any of their phone calls. I just wanted to relax.

And I needed a fresh perspective.

During the week, as I was editing scenes, I kept seeing the mistakes that countless beginning filmmakers make. I made them too. Twenty years ago, but I made them too. I started jotting down a list of things I never want to see again. My first big word of advice to a young filmmaker is to take the phrase "one more for safety" (when the crew shoots one more take of a scene or shot after the feel they have gotten a good take) out of your vocabulary. It really means "one more to waste time". If you have a shot, move the fuck on! This particular film took an average of seven takes of every shot and then ALSO did a "one more for safety" shot! It was so ridiculous that they took a "one more for safety" shot of a cutaway of someone's hand!! I'm not slighting these people. I like a lot of the stuff they shot. But after sifting through 20 half-hour miniDV tapes looking for usable shots, I was just a little perturbed.

Anyway, as I was jotting down my list of "do's and don't's", I remembered a similar list I had read in Wholphin, a DVD magazine put out by the fine folks at McSweeney's. There was a list compiled by a film festival worker/organizer, who has seen his fair share of short films. This was less technical and based more on the "stuff" young filmmakers tend to shoot. His list is pretty funny.

In fact, I think I have, in my own film work, done every single thing on this list!

"Since 1993 I’ve worked for film festivals and the last four years I’ve seen literally thousands and thousands of shorts. I’ve noticed filmmakers have a few tendencies that I’d love to never, ever see again. Please, just challenge yourself and don’t do this.

1. First shot is an alarm clock waking up the main character. This only worked in Meatballs.

2. Drinking from a Jack Daniels bottle. Always straight from the bottle, always Jack Daniels. It hurts worse when it’s someone who looks 19 trying to portray Bukowski.

3. Five minutes of opening credits for a 10-minute film. I don’t know any of the names. No one does. If we love the short we will wait around and see who made it.

4. Super hot sex scene with the actors still wearing their underwear. After having great sex, no one makes sure the sheet is covering their boobs in real life.

5. Movie posters on the wall. Of better films.

6. Camera in the car trunk, mailbox or refridgerator.

7. Office scene with everyone sped up.

8. Narration, narration, narration.

9. A “short” that is 40 minutes long.

10. Plot about people trying to make a film (that includes you, frustrated writer and actor going to auditions).

There has never been a good mockumentary short and only two good silent film-style films, not including Guy Maddin.

And these characters need to take a break: ninjas, mimes, drag kings, bondage gear man, bunny suit girl, a woman who is really a robot, a jerky landlord trying to get the rent, characters swearing they’ll be friends forever.

Note: This is not a judgement of what’s good or bad, just some things that pop up… a lot. I had to get it off my chest."

How Much Does Yahoo Suck? Let Me Count The Ways

I cannot log in to my Flickr account because I had to create a Yahoo account in order to do so and somehow when I was doing so it made me create a different username so that the one that is associated to my account is not the same as the one I must use to sign in, but it is the same as the one that is associated to my email account, but my email account is associated to something entirely different now and it says it does not exist in the world of Flickr, but I received an email saying that my mail from Flickr would continue to be sent to that email address and notified me of a different username that I should be using, but when I try to sign in it says that the zip code associated to that account does not match the one on file so I try a different zip code and then it lets me proceed to the next level of security questions which is what is my father's middle name and there is only one correct answer there but somehow whenever I enter it it says that I am wrong and I can't for the life of me remember what name I could've possibly mis-typed if that's the case and there is no way to access my account in any way whatsoever and all I could do was send an email to them requesting that they go fuck themselves.

So that account exists entirely on it's own now. I can neither update nor cancel it because I am not authorized to do so it appears.

The Lookout

Oh yeah. So, the reason I started reflecting on my handicapped life yesterday was the fact that I saw a movie called The Lookout, which centers on a brain-damaged protagonist played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt being manipulated into taking part in a bank heist.

The trials of his daily life rang very true, I thought. I believe the film does a good job of capturing the confusion/frustration felt by someone suffering from a brain injury. Having to write everything down, learning how things should fit sequentially, creating patterns in your life. All well done.

If you want to see a good movie, check it out.

Coma, Coma, Coma-chameleon

I think one of the biggest mistakes I made in life was not really dealing with the effects of the brain injury I received when I was 20 years old. Thirteen years later and I am noticing some accelerated deterioration in my mental abilities. I laugh it off and make jokes about it, but I'm really afraid that within the next ten years I won't be functioning at all.

I remember one of my therapists in the rehabilitation center telling me that all my psychologists and therapists were afraid to discharge me because I hadn't "dealt with the emotional and psychological aspects" of my brain injury. I was making progress physically: learning to tie my shoes, learning to walk, learning to pick up objects with my left hand (which had been paralysed and balled into a tight fist for almost a month). But I never really acknowledged the fact that I may never be who I was before and I hadn't shown any anger about what had happened. This worried the docs.

But I just wanted to be myself again. To return to my old life and pick up where I left off. And my family and friends wanted the same. I remember my father telling me, "If you fall off the horse, you gotta just get back up and keep riding".

And so I picked myself up, brushed off the dirt and jumped back in. Without considering how my life might be different now that I've suffered this little injury.

And it was not like any of my friends or family knew any better. They wanted me to be my old self too. I was treated with kid gloves for a couple months, but soon it was "back to normal".

But a lot of the things that I later discovered are symptomatic of head injuries, started popping up. And fucking with my life.

I had a girlfriend who broke up with me because she said I'd lost all my ambition after the "accident". She said there were two ways of dealing with a "set-back": "You can pursue things with more determination, or you can just blame other people. And you chose the latter." OK, but this was six months after my injury. And neither of us knew that my "lack of ambition" was a result of more serious issues inside my head.

I've gone through a multitude of jobs over the years and I've been fired from quite a few of those. Often I forget to do things if they are not written down and I have trouble multi-tasking (unless everything is written down for me). If I am in the middle of doing something and one person asks me to do something I am alright. But then a third person asks me to do something. So when I finish my first task I do what the third person asks me to do and completely forget that I even had a conversation with the second person. Which is really not an appealing thing for employers. I have, on occasion, carried a notebook with my to jot down "things to do" as they occur. Though, this too is not appealing to some employers. Why should they bother with someone who has to write everything down in order to remember to do it when there are plenty of able-minded people who can do the job faster?

A lot of the time I would get angry with people out of the blue. And then forget about it and wonder why they're upset with me.

I think I was always moody and depressed. Even before the injury. But It's been a more daily occurance over the last thirteen years.

I never saw these things as results of my brain injury. And they are not so severe that I think I'm any different than other people. I mean, everyone has memory lapses. Everyone has gotten on a train, spent 45 minutes commuting, only to get off at a stop and realize you can't remember why you got on the train in the first place. Right?

I've started telling stories that go nowhere. I will start talking to someone and realize half-way through that I don't know the point of this tale and I am no longer interested in telling it. Sometimes I actually stop and just say, "That's it. nevermind."

If I'm with a group of friends in a crowded place I usually can't focus on the conversation (unless I'm telling a story that goes nowhere) and end up staring off into space a lot.

I feel my grip is slipping each day.

I looked up a list of side effects to brain injuries recently to see if I'm just getting old or if my waning brain activity is a result of my accident:

Difficulty remembering/learning check
inability to concentrate, understand complex issues, plan, make judgements or think quickly check
Irritability check
aggression the number of fights I've gotten into in the last 13 years is kinda ridiculous. Especially for someone who can't fight
restlessness I am writing this little blog entry because I can't sleep. check.
lack of spontaneity check
childishness just because I think farts are funny doesn't mean I'm childish
apathy i couldn't give a shit
mood swings check
depression check
excessive emotions (ie laughing, swearing or crying excessively or other inappropriate behaviour) AHHH! Fuck shit damn I hope you die. Nah. I'm cool.
self-centredness a BIG ol' check here!
lack of ambition surprised I had the drive to write this blog entry
changes in usual personality I'll let people who knew me before weigh in on that

Well, as is my MO these days, I don't have an ending for this story. I don't even know why I started writing it.
So there it is.

Voicemail/Answering Machine Messages

I'm quite sure this has been a topic covered in someone's stand-up material, but I have to mention it.

It's 2007.
You do not need to leave instructions on how to leave a message on your answering machine or voicemail. We know how to. So unless you're expecting a call from someone who just woke from a 20 year coma, "I'm not in, leave a message" will suffice.

We do not need to be instructed that there will be a beep and we should begin our message after it.
We do not need to be told to leave our name, number, and reason for calling. This is common practice now. If we really want you to call us back, we'll leave all pertinent information.

Some cellular companies also provide this extraneous information as part of their voicemail system, so after I've listened to you ramble on about how to properly leave a message, I have to hear an automated female voice reiterate the same crap.

And by that point I've eaten up a good chunk of minutes on my cell phone and am seriously debating whether I should waste more airtime to leave you a proper message or just hang up.

Finally!

Big Dork Weekend

I went to the NYComicon this weekend. I bought a lot of comic books and graphic novels, sat in on a few horror movie discussion panels, I even (*gasp*) got a poster signed. (In my defense, it's a poster for Hostel 2 that Heather Matarazzo, Richard Burgi and Eli Roth were signing and giving away. I didn't seek them out to sign it.)

Anyway, I let my inner geek come out to play, and he had a relatively good time.

I passed this one booth where a guy was selling bootlegged DVDs of complete crap. But on a quick perusal of his wares, I thought, "maybe this guy has some interesting hard-to-find stuff".

"Can I help ya pal?"

"Do you have Mr. Mike's Mondo Video?"

"Wha-who?"

"Nevermind, " I said, and started walking away.

"Whoa! Hold it! You just hit me with a thing I never hearda. I mean what is this? This lady here," he said pointing to a woman behind him. "She comes at me with this obscure TV show and now you pull this rabbit outta nowhere. Like a one-two punch and I'm K-O'd. Jeez..."

"It's a movie that one of the original Saturday Night Live writers..."

"Oh! SNL. I got that! SNL Season 1 right over here."

"Yes. I see. You've got a lot of wonderful bootleg copies of things you can find in any store on the planet," I said picking up a bootleg DVD of Kill Bill Vol. 1, the faded home printer-made insert looking even more amateurish upon closer inspection.

"I mean, really, what are you offering?" I asked. "I thought you might have some rarities of some sort. Ya know, maybe in that stack of Star Wars DVD rips, you'll have a copy of The Star Wars Holiday Special or something. I mean, at least the Chinese woman selling bootleg DVDs on the subway has bootlegs of movies still in the theater. What's the point of a bootleg if it's something you can find in any store for less than what you're charging?"

(The Kill Bill Vol. 1 DVD I was holding was selling for $25. You can buy a proper edition of the film at Target or Best Buy for $12.99!)

I left him to think about that and wandered over to the gaming area, where they had tables set up for people to play a variety of roleplaying games. Along the wall of the room were booths where various people were doling out autographs. In one corner, sitting all by himself looking sullen, was Gary Coleman. There was no one in line to get his autograph. I thought about asking him to sign the one sheet I picked up for the new David Fincher film Zodiac.

"I ain't in Zodiac, man!"

"But it'd be cooler if you were! 'Whatchoo talkin' 'bout Zodiac Killer?' Sign it like that!"

Alas, I didn't.

I eventually ran into my co-worker John and we spent the rest of the day checking out the horror panels for Hostel: Part 2, The Hills Have Eyes 2, and the Showtime series Masters of Horror.

Also swung by the Pokemon booth to say hello to Sarah, who was signing autographs for kids and creepy old men. (She does the voice for the character Ash on the show).

And now I shall finish this weekend of dorkdom by watching the Oscars.
And then working 8 hours loading footage of the damn things for a daytime talk show's Oscar Night wrap-up.

What's Bugging Me

Farts that don't come out the way you'd expect them too. Particularly those sneaky ones that crawl forward and tickle your taint. You can feel these little fart bubbles trundle out and get trapped beneath you, and maybe a few scouts will sneak up and explore around your balls (if you're a man. I'm sure women experience this too, sans ball excursion). And then they just sit there for awhile. Taunting you. Making you wiggle and squirm, attempting to pop these little stink blisters.

Cheesy Wedding Video

I shot my friend Chris' wedding last year and I never got around to editing it. His wife has hounded me about it for the last year. I apologize. I'm a slacker.

Anyway, as I was putting the video together I decided to do something cheesy and fun with the footage. Sort of as a bonus feature for their DVD.

Wedding videos are pretty well-traveled ground, so this was just an exercise to keep me from getting too bored as I was editing the real thing.

The Trappings of Midget Bowling

There, there, young Finn
Your neatly ironed curtains are far too thin
And the pineapple of your mother
Has taught you to never feed a Swede

Ohmigosh, the cat has jumped its bail
Now everyone can own a copy of
Uncle Seamus’ bagpipe records

And you thought whistling Dixie
Was an innocent way
To earn your wooden nickels

Lo and lo, the doughboy sings
His wretched tale,
But the creeping custard
Buys some time for Wily William Walker’s
Plan to highjack rickshaws

Run, Chinaman, run!
And bring us to the setting sun
Where elephant boys in coats of dreams
Sautee themselves in rocky streams.

i wandered lonely as a crowd

There’s a me on every corner,
and we don’t look
too amused.

Faux-Date Dot Com (Addendum)

This is a recent message from another "member" on this site.
Again, this is the only message I got from this "person". Again they try to make me feel like shit and guilt me into paying for the service. Nice try fuckers!

This one was titled: "Guess You Really Don't Care"

It's very odd that I still haven't received anything from you after about 4 or 5 emails. I was simply asking if you maybe wanted to hang out sometime but guess that's to much for you. Im a straight froward person that doesn't play games when it comes to something I want.

Like my money, huh?
I suppose they'll suspend my account soon, for failure to play along. I imagine there's some mafioso sitting in front of a laptop, thinking he's got a sucker on the line and he's getting frustrated trying to reel me in. So frustrated he misspelled "forward".

Faux-Date Dot Com

As regular readers may already know I tried signing up for an online dating service several years ago, only to be denied membership. The authorities believed I was such a lost cause they wanted nothing to do with me. You can read about that here.

Well, several years have passed, I'm still eternally single, and I found myself bored and in front of the computer on Valentine's Day. So I decided to take a crack at that online dating thing again.

It was a sham... as expected.

Within minutes of signing up I received 6 messages. I checked their profiles and they all seemed pretty cool. Except for the fact that they were from either Albany or Syracuse. And two from Ventura, CA! I tried to respond to one of the emails that intrigued me. I then realized I could not reply to those messages unless I got a "pro" account for $29.95 a month.

The funny thing is, some of these messages are cleverly disguised as honest messages from real women, but they are just ploys to get me to turn over my credit card information.

I'll take you through some of the emails I got:

---

This first one entitled "Screw This Holiday" was received about 2 hours after I had signed up on the 14th:

I messaged several people including you 2 days ago asking what you had planned for today and I didn't receive a single response. I can understand if you were already taken but at least let me know. Guess its a little to late to do anything now.

Wow! That made me feel kinda bad right from the start. I can understand if you were already taken but at least let me know. I felt guilty for not contacting this woman before I joined the site! Here I am, 2 hours into my online dating life and I'm being yelled at by some crazy "woman"!

---

This was the first, and only, message I received from this "girl", but she was sure she'd contacted me before:

You got anything going on tonight. I sent you a couple of messages a while back and didn't receive a response from you. Thought you might of wanted to hang out tonight being that its valentines day and all and I don't have a date. Let me know if you have something going and if your interested. Hope to hear back from you this time.

---

The subject line for this email read: "Very sensitive, with a loving and caring heart, likes to help those who have less."

My friends say I have "butterfly magic" in social situations, whatever that means ;) It's easy for me to meet new people because I instantly put others at ease. It's part of my laid-back personality and midwestern upbringing. I'm looking for someone to be friends first...someone down-to-earth, handsome, confident, open-minded. I find the artsy creative types intriguing. My passions include traveling, learning about other cultures, art, & music. If you want to know more, write. Thanks!

OK, there was the plug to write back (remember you have to pay $29.95 a month to actually "write back") but she seemed like she might be real. This told me a little about herself, as generic as it was, and I liked the fact that she was interested in "artsy, creative types" (i.e. the unemployed). I may have a chance to experience some o' dat "butterfly magic"

I checked her profile and she seemed laid back and confident and talked about spirituality and other mumbo jumbo that could interest me if I am drunk, but then she finished up with this line that blew me out of the water: and I know this sounds extremely shallow but I do like a full head of hair.

ARGH! Foiled again!

---

This one was titled: "I Mailed You"
It was the first message I received from this user.

I wrote and asked if you wanted a submissive woman, did you get the message? Can you reply? If you don't like submissive women that's ok i'll just write someone else who does. If I don't hear back from you in the next day or so, i'll consider you not interested.

Again with the passive aggressiveness, trying to make me feel bad for not contacting these pseudo-women. And if you're really submissive you won't be considering anything, cuz I didn't tell you you could think for yourself yet.

---

And today I got this message from a real take-charge kinda gal, entitled: "I Need A Date For Saturday"

If you are interesting in going out saturday night I would love for you to be my date. I promise to make it worth your time. If you want to know where we'd be going or ask anything else just write me back soon since there isn't a lot of time.

Whoa! Hold the reins there dolly. This "girl" is 21 and lives in Albany, NY. Not even old enough to rent a car to drive 8 hours to pick me up for said "date".

---

I'm going to keep this account just to amuse myself with the messages I receive.
I no longer get messages from the midget and dwarf dating site my buddies with The Hall signed me up for, so this'll have to suffice.

I Kinda Hate Flickr Right Now

I have an account on the photo-sharing page Flickr, and they've recently decided that everyone who uses it should have a Yahoo account in order to use it.

I don't have a Yahoo account. Nor do I really want one. But my Flickr account will no longer be accessible through my current email in a month and a half.

I am being forced into signing up for something else in order to use something I've already used for over a year now. And they say they are "making this change now to simplify the sign in process"!

"Oh, good morning Mr. Orsborn. I see you park your car on the street in front of your house. As this street is now owned by Bank of America, you'll have to set up a savings account with us in order to still park there. This is for the convenience of everyone involved. Have a great day!"

Well, fuck you Flickr! I mean Yahoo! or whatever corporate behemoth owns you now...

Oh, and I've noticed that Blogger here is now owned by Google and has a separate sign in for Google ID users, so I'm sure I'll be getting an email from THEM any day now requesting the same sort of switcharoo.

To sum up, everyone should go rent "Idiocracy". A funny, and I'm sure very prescient, movie.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go buy stock in Microsoft so I can continue wearing these sneakers.

Snowy Night in Brooklyn

As viewed from my "stoop":

The Korosec Myspace Project Week One

My friend Phil swindled me into this "collaboration" last week.
Here's the deal:

Phil lives in Chicago, does graphic design, and makes music in his spare time. I live in New York and make little videos in my spare time.
Phil has decided to post a new song to his MySpace profile each week. He has challenged me to make a video for each new song and post it the following week.

So the game has started. I posted my first video this afternoon. Right now, the score is 1-1. He'll have a new song up tomorrow and we'll begin again.

Keep checking the MySpace pages each week for the new installments.

For now, check out the first video:

korosec, "primo"

New Sketch

This is a rough cut of sketch I made with my friend Ian a few months ago. I need to make a few tweaks here and there and add credits, but here's what we've got so far...

Welcome To the World Abigail!

My friend Liz had her baby, Abigail Grace Walter, on January 3.
I am so happy for her!
She's an adorable little girl, and you should check out all the pictures of her Right Here!