Summer Solstice - watch more funny videos
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
The Blog
Today I slept a lot once I got home from the usual night shift. With my meds I had to eat something before bed so I consumed half a box of Kraft dinner and three pieces of fried chicken with diet Ginger Ale while watching a new but somehow glitchy DVD of Twins. As I type this vital record on a faulty keyboard I look back at how easy it is to turn "shift" into "shit."
But at least things are looking up on one front. My teeth have been better and my knee though week doesn't explode in pain when I try to climb stairs. I'm reading The Dark Side of Genius and getting myself into the movie mindset I had back in 1994 after college when I found Capra's autobiography in a used book store and re-fed the insane dreamstate caused by reading Skywalking by Dale Pollock years before. Even if I don't prove to be a Lucas or a Hitchcock, like moves forward only if we avert the tyranny of rationalization.
I'm a little worried about a feature script that was to be submitted to Telefilm months ago. Now I find out they won't consider anything with "sex and violence" in it, which - believe it or not doesn't apply to The Adventures of Porno the Clown. There is a pointed lack of nudity, and what action there is wuld be the equivalent of Nerf playfighting. There arfe other things I won't go into in a public blog though. I'm sure the best of intentions are all around. I feel like there is some way to force this machine into motion.
But how effective am I? Have to get out of my own head. The other day I was lugging a tripod after a shoot and stopped by the Pape library. I was waiting beside a woman who seemed familiar there with her child. Though I had a tripod in my arms I don't think she flashed a charitable interpretation of the fact that I looked at her. I wasn't in an esily conversant mode or I might have said, "Hey, do you make films in Toronto?" She seemed to have slimmed down since starring in "Unsettled" directed by her sister Ruba Nadda, which I bought on VHS from Ruba herself before the tape entered any festivals. Oddly, since the VHS had been put onto a disc for safety by my friend Simon I had then imported it into my editing program (intending to just make a copy) and a "phantom edit" which trims more then 20 minutes and reorders a few scenes. My own VHS had been borrowed by Simon's brother and was misplaced years ago, so it was interesting to see again. At the time, it just seemed less strong compared to Ruba's first feature and Sabah her big time third feature. Unsettled was better upon second viewing, and I never knew whether the coppies we got in 2002 or thereabouts was the final. But suffice to say I've had to look at this actress during my unauthorized edit so I recognized her. But either I wasn't myself at that point, or I was dead on my feet after a "Porno the Clown" shoot. It seems random the times that I can speak up. Once I make a commitment to introverted mode it is difficult to pull out. Then I seem rude, aloof or just a creep. I think standing waiting for a bus is what really retards me.
But at least things are looking up on one front. My teeth have been better and my knee though week doesn't explode in pain when I try to climb stairs. I'm reading The Dark Side of Genius and getting myself into the movie mindset I had back in 1994 after college when I found Capra's autobiography in a used book store and re-fed the insane dreamstate caused by reading Skywalking by Dale Pollock years before. Even if I don't prove to be a Lucas or a Hitchcock, like moves forward only if we avert the tyranny of rationalization.
I'm a little worried about a feature script that was to be submitted to Telefilm months ago. Now I find out they won't consider anything with "sex and violence" in it, which - believe it or not doesn't apply to The Adventures of Porno the Clown. There is a pointed lack of nudity, and what action there is wuld be the equivalent of Nerf playfighting. There arfe other things I won't go into in a public blog though. I'm sure the best of intentions are all around. I feel like there is some way to force this machine into motion.
But how effective am I? Have to get out of my own head. The other day I was lugging a tripod after a shoot and stopped by the Pape library. I was waiting beside a woman who seemed familiar there with her child. Though I had a tripod in my arms I don't think she flashed a charitable interpretation of the fact that I looked at her. I wasn't in an esily conversant mode or I might have said, "Hey, do you make films in Toronto?" She seemed to have slimmed down since starring in "Unsettled" directed by her sister Ruba Nadda, which I bought on VHS from Ruba herself before the tape entered any festivals. Oddly, since the VHS had been put onto a disc for safety by my friend Simon I had then imported it into my editing program (intending to just make a copy) and a "phantom edit" which trims more then 20 minutes and reorders a few scenes. My own VHS had been borrowed by Simon's brother and was misplaced years ago, so it was interesting to see again. At the time, it just seemed less strong compared to Ruba's first feature and Sabah her big time third feature. Unsettled was better upon second viewing, and I never knew whether the coppies we got in 2002 or thereabouts was the final. But suffice to say I've had to look at this actress during my unauthorized edit so I recognized her. But either I wasn't myself at that point, or I was dead on my feet after a "Porno the Clown" shoot. It seems random the times that I can speak up. Once I make a commitment to introverted mode it is difficult to pull out. Then I seem rude, aloof or just a creep. I think standing waiting for a bus is what really retards me.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Do or Die
There is the great line in Shawshank Redemption, "Get busy living or get busy dying." I've always wanted to see a spoof where someone hears that, solemly nods and later we hear a gunshot off camera and a thump as he falls dead.
Summer is like that. Great enough weather to get the camera out, but maybe either my scripts aren't ready or the ones that are I haven't got the passion or specific mischeif to set about shooting. I thought for sure I would have shot my one about Siamese Twins by now. I won't mention the specific element that sets them apart from "Stuck on You." But even if I like my satire, once I've communicated it in a script I need to be driven to get past that.
Recently I had a tooth problem solved, and it reminded me how little I have to complain about. Most of my complaints originate with my choice to eat the wrong food and do too little exercise. I'm oddly not uncomfortable, but adrift and the current is taking me farther away from the reason to exist - whatever efforts I have invested my life in.
Film directing and writing are the main passions, but it seems to take a bit longer now. Some actors are great and accessible only for shorts. Others would pay thousands of dollars to take acting courses or improve exercises but then insist on being paid to make a movie that will actually give them something decent (if not the only item) on their reel. One thing I know is that time is ticking and there is kind of a deadline. I feel myself becoming somewhat more misanthropic, set apart, and in the wrong position to direct the attention of an audience and expect success.
I will very soon lose all interest in some of the simpler and sharper ideas that at least a handful of people enjoy. I should be married and have kids by now, but more importantly I should be able to support them with an excellent moviemaking career. The disease is enough that I hardly even look at the stage plays I've written, much less made the effort to book a space and start rehearsals. Maybe because movies are the white whale that will eventually kill me.
I've started reading The Dark Side of Genius about Alfred Hitchcock, figuring that should help keep me grounded nicely. Whether or not grounding is the thing I need. I'm sedated. Maybe as a result of too many pills. I have to get a passport, a new doctor, some acupuncture to the backs of my legs, and a reason to set foot out side of Ontarion for the first time in my adult life. I thought living in Toronto was a leap, but I still find a comfortable groove. I'm too accepting. I wonder what will happen when I finally snap.
Summer is like that. Great enough weather to get the camera out, but maybe either my scripts aren't ready or the ones that are I haven't got the passion or specific mischeif to set about shooting. I thought for sure I would have shot my one about Siamese Twins by now. I won't mention the specific element that sets them apart from "Stuck on You." But even if I like my satire, once I've communicated it in a script I need to be driven to get past that.
Recently I had a tooth problem solved, and it reminded me how little I have to complain about. Most of my complaints originate with my choice to eat the wrong food and do too little exercise. I'm oddly not uncomfortable, but adrift and the current is taking me farther away from the reason to exist - whatever efforts I have invested my life in.
Film directing and writing are the main passions, but it seems to take a bit longer now. Some actors are great and accessible only for shorts. Others would pay thousands of dollars to take acting courses or improve exercises but then insist on being paid to make a movie that will actually give them something decent (if not the only item) on their reel. One thing I know is that time is ticking and there is kind of a deadline. I feel myself becoming somewhat more misanthropic, set apart, and in the wrong position to direct the attention of an audience and expect success.
I will very soon lose all interest in some of the simpler and sharper ideas that at least a handful of people enjoy. I should be married and have kids by now, but more importantly I should be able to support them with an excellent moviemaking career. The disease is enough that I hardly even look at the stage plays I've written, much less made the effort to book a space and start rehearsals. Maybe because movies are the white whale that will eventually kill me.
I've started reading The Dark Side of Genius about Alfred Hitchcock, figuring that should help keep me grounded nicely. Whether or not grounding is the thing I need. I'm sedated. Maybe as a result of too many pills. I have to get a passport, a new doctor, some acupuncture to the backs of my legs, and a reason to set foot out side of Ontarion for the first time in my adult life. I thought living in Toronto was a leap, but I still find a comfortable groove. I'm too accepting. I wonder what will happen when I finally snap.
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