visualizing, visioning

dinner, lunch, sometimes breakfast, coffee, cocktails, watching TV, watching movies, warm place in bed, neck and shoulders, belly and feet, coming home, nowhere else to go, conversation, silence, talking shit, someone to sings songs to, singing along, staying calm, learning, forgetting, laughing, secrets, doing capers, buying little doodads for, going on separate trips and circling around to inspire and not get sick of each other.


we can do it!

The other day, after winning a $100 bet, this Mexican lady started chanting "Si se puede! Si se puede!"

Am I a big hippie for thinking that is kind of retarded?


dough ma!


In case anyone wants to hire me to edit or direct anything, I've posted a reel which can also be found on the sidebar. ==>

It is a fussily large 45-meg quicktime file. I'll post a more tastefully-compressed version later.

I also do weddings and bar mitzvahs.


i'm so in love

with this Korean actor Bae Doo Na. I just saw "The Host," in which she plays a gritty cross between Legolas and Michelle Wie. She was also in "Linda Linda Linda," which I ranted about previously. She is excellent. She seems kind of dorky and yet is heart-rendingly beautiful. She is way better than My Sassy Girl, or my previous crush, My Tutor Friend. She is neither affectedly tough nor cloylingly girly. That is, she seems sort of tough, and also sort of girly. She has a funny nose. She has a nice voice. She seems like she would be a pleasant person to eat mul naengmyon with. I am going to write poems about her. I am going to build a boat out of discarded SIM cards for her. I am going to fix a bowl of noodles and leave it on my altar of her. I am going to exterminate all the roaches in my garage for her. I am going to assasinate Justin Timberlake for her. I am being ironic now, of course, but she will be mine. Oh yes. She will be.


drunk dialing

It's not that one should never get drunk. It's just that one should never get drunk next to a phone. A phone gives you too much temptation to express your pure inebriated incoherent gibberish to too many people. And, having been on the receiving end of a few drunken phone calls, I know for a truth that no one really truly cares what you have to say after having one too many Sapporos.


every now and then i know you'll always be the only boy who loved me for the way that i am

There aren't too many famous artists whom I'd want to meet or know personally. I'm just not that interested in that kind of thing. But I have to say, I really want to meet whoever the hell it was who wrote "Total Eclipse of the Heart." I (sortof) picked it out on the guitar today, after decades of it floating around in the back of me pop-consciousness. I'm not sure if the words or the music are weirder, but that song is definitely CRAZY.


where are you going can i come too?

I don't know why, but i have this big abandonment complex. Particularly with people I like. And, to be sure, I don't like that many people. But I'm wondering now if that misanthropic tendency is due to my fear that people I like will leave me behind. If that were the case, it would be safer to not like anyone who is not physically chained to me. But it's not really the case. My family's never left me in the lurch. I can't point to a major case of actually being abandoned. It's just this thing that I worry about.
....I don't have many close male friends now. In high school and college, I had a very close-knit group of guy friends. Then, as life proceeded, dudes moved to different cities/countries, dudes got married, dudes fell off the map. Seems to be a normal part of adulthood, slightly amplified by the forces of globalization (it is possible to travel anywhere!) and technological insularity (it is possible to focus only on myself and not need any other human beings!).
...But I believe the seeds of my desertion problem root back to this guy clique, when, in the course of natural hormonal activity, the dude group occasionally splintered so that members of the group could Go Make Out With Girls. This is something I've never been good at, but my dude friends were pretty good at it. So, while they pursued various chicks with varying degrees of success, I took to biding my time, writing bitter poems, talking up the other wallflowers, feeling left out.
...The other thing is, based on one embarassing experience, I have this fear that people I like will come to believe that I'm stalking them, and then not want to be my friend no more. Or have anything to do with me. For the good of our relationship.
...Again, it's not like this has happened enough times that it is rational fear. It's just me being a wuss at the potential of estrangement, or, as the song goes, once bitten twice shy.
....Also, I have this weird thing with time lately. It's not that I'm scared of dying, or being 40, or whatever. It just makes me anxious that I have no idea who I'm going to know when I'm 64, as the other song goes.
...Of course, No One Knows That. Which is why the conventional wisdom says that more enlightened people Live In The Moment. But not me. I'm worried about the moment that the person I'm talking to has to excuse themself and go home to feed the dog. I'm worried that the person who's making me laugh right now will later have to go find where they parked their car. I'm worried that the person I'm sharing a meal with will eventually finish the meal.
....I'm worried, basically, that I will never again be anyone's job, obligation, or end-of-the-day destination.


this year, i kind of want to....

(...but don't necessarily have to, so it's not like a new year's resolution or anything that i can feel guilty about failing to live up to, and anyway it's a little late for that isn't it?....)

....get this TA91 movie going somewhere, as in to festivals or distributors....
....do a staged reading of this musical.....
....write this novella, of which so far i just have an outline....
....shoot this short.....
....prep this feature script either to be "sold" or made independently by me next year....
....make some more money....
....stop drinking Monster energy drinks.....
...,go to Japan to see this new Evangelion movie because it will never be on a big screen here...
....find a DVD copy of "Yellow Submarine" and avoid paying the bastard-ish "out-of-print" price for it....
....find a different job or a way of doing my current job that will not lead to me being insane and deaf....
....have some dude friends....
....have a girl friend.....
....see Julie Taymor's "Across The Universe".....
....see that Transformers movie about 100 times, with or without a strong muscle relaxant....
....see Prince in Vegas....
....stop the war....
....stop the idiocracy....
....figure out how to stay in a good mood....


what the hell was i talking about in that last post?

I'm not sure. Anyways, thinking about arguments. Arguments can be kind of fun, being that they are passionate and much more "in the moment" than the rest of one's overplotted, underfelt life. In my experience they often end up drawing close friends closer together. They have some of the same visceral energy as flirting and sexual interaction. The only problem is, if you have an argument with someone and then don't see them again for several days or weeks or years, you're left wondering if the other person is still stewing. And then, in turn, you are the stewing one, because you're stewing about whether they're stewing or not. This is why having no short-term memory is a good thing.


Let It Play Out.

There are times when one is blessed with a winning streak. Not necessarily in wins of gold or favor, but instead a serious of synchronicitous lucky events that cause one to have to work less hard, because things are falling in one's favor, and the things are all remarkably clumped together. In my absurd job, the chips fall in advantageous places, the cards come, and the transactions are performed cleanly. Somehow no one is screaming nonsense, vlillifying me, or asking stupid questions. This is unusual enough to be considered a very lucky day, and a big Win in the Not-Going-Insane Column.
.....Other events pile up, some done by me, some happening to me; the cut of our movie is refreshed by a new editing ploy; a breakthrough for a character I'm trying to write in a screenplay seems to arise effortlessly and inevitably; i find a quick route to a good restaurant; i get housewarming gifts from the parents and from my brother, including the David Mamet book about Hollywood, which is a massively entertaining thing that i would never spend money myself. Phone calls and emails from friends long thought lost touches, asking if we can meet up and good god, we actually can; "could you help me with this?" and amazingly, it is within my capacity. The unusal sights are right on my way to the next appointment, the right piece of clothing is exactly where it should be, the rain falls just when i would like some rain. People offer events and scenarios which fill the calendar with Things To Look Forward To.
....And then, there's a glitch. The Plan, which was proceeding so flawlessly by virtue of its own non-creation, reaches a snag at which point the Thing Looked Forward To seems unlikely to happen. This aberration, recently, is almost always female or female-by-association.
....Panic sets in, This is the gambler's panic, because the gambler's folly is that a winning streak lasts indefinitely until a losing bet is placed, and he can't help but try to keep making that losing bet, its purpose being to inform him that the gods have stopped making goo-goo eyes at him. It's all downhill from here, and we'll soon be back into that familar lengthy streak of losing and pushing and everything happening at the wrong time. All 'cause of one girl doing something or not doing something.
....While brushing my teeth, the conciliatory ligthbulb was this: with all the elements of a winning streak in place, maybe you should let things play out. Do not try anything to maintain the synchronicitous streak. This type of working with diligence towards futility comprises the better part of your normal unstreaking life anyway. Instead, trust that your streak does not have a finite end, but the maddening girl situation is just abother thing which may be developing on a different pace, with no intent for harm, but something potentially to look forward to, if only see the way that it will play out.


way too fast

today: submitted to a film festival, exchanged cards and pleasantries with a young woman in the elevator, went to check out a screening room, got a lovely, well-chosen present from my brother in the mail, ate dumplings with the parents, went to buy cream puffs, revised a screenplay, submitted screenplay to contest, bought envelopes and CD cases, sent inquiry letter to an editing job, did some business at hotels.com, watched parents take half an hour to send an email (collaborative writing is a tricky art), felt a rush of possibility and then of panic, thinking of the cold spot on the back of my neck wher your regular breathing touched me and i did not get up to use the bathroom. tomorrow, with the parents, museums in OC, rock collections in Santa Monica, brazillian steakhouse on Restaurant Row. Friday have to learn some baccarat game they're starting in the Dragon Room.
Cost Of Being Alive Adjustment for Wednesday: about $185 (gas, office supplies, cream puffs, contest submission fees).
Sure am glad I figured out how to use my credit card's 0% introduction APR offer.
And maybe, on Saturday, a nap.