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.
well, THAT went about as well as it could possibly go....
....and really, that's all one can ever ask.
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.
....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....
....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.
.....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.
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.
trying to think of something funny to post to avoid ranting about being sad and confused
...I learned how to say "lizard" in Chinese yesterday. Also, "fingerprint."
.....
...Ummmmm.....forget it.
.....
...Ummmmm.....forget it.
give you everyhing i got for a little piece of mind
Today, with the help of the Internets, I figured out how to play the Beatles' "I'm So Tired" on guitar, It's a trickly little bastard with a G# major chord where an F#minor would usually suffice, an E augmented that I wasn't sure how to voice, and also cute aternating betwen major and minor on the 4 chord, It's one of my favorite songs and also fits my recurring state, that is, love-inspired sleep deprivation, So that was a happy accomplishment.
It's a kick too because once you actually play that unusual progression all the way through and hear how perfectly it sustains the melody and the vibe, it doesn't seem so complicated. Every piece fits together perfectly as if there were no other way the song counld be constructed.
I'm not sure what's up with the Beatles revival this year. The Cirque du Soleil show was great, and this Julie Taymor movie "Across the Universe" looks kind of exciting, Arguments about purity aside, I always thought it was strange how Beatles songs aren't constantly at the forefront of our popculture mix, given that they are the best songs in the universe. I'd think that four out of every five movies would want to have a Beatles soundtrack, every TV show should have a Beatles opening theme, and all band should be required to do a Beatles cover at every live gig. And every Beatles song should be mashed-up into a hip-hop jam and a club mix. Hearing a badly-done Beatles song is till better than hearing 98% of all other songs. And they were the last ones to write about peace and love and actually mean it. We still can learn a lot from those four blokes.
It's a kick too because once you actually play that unusual progression all the way through and hear how perfectly it sustains the melody and the vibe, it doesn't seem so complicated. Every piece fits together perfectly as if there were no other way the song counld be constructed.
I'm not sure what's up with the Beatles revival this year. The Cirque du Soleil show was great, and this Julie Taymor movie "Across the Universe" looks kind of exciting, Arguments about purity aside, I always thought it was strange how Beatles songs aren't constantly at the forefront of our popculture mix, given that they are the best songs in the universe. I'd think that four out of every five movies would want to have a Beatles soundtrack, every TV show should have a Beatles opening theme, and all band should be required to do a Beatles cover at every live gig. And every Beatles song should be mashed-up into a hip-hop jam and a club mix. Hearing a badly-done Beatles song is till better than hearing 98% of all other songs. And they were the last ones to write about peace and love and actually mean it. We still can learn a lot from those four blokes.
again heard in the casino
it's always disturbing when someone uses an expression like "it was like being stabbed in the face" and they actually have a big noticeable scar on their nose. i imagine it's like if an amputee says something about having an itch you just can't scratch. and the person speaking is not a fluent English speaker, so she doesn't exactly bombard you with English metaphors in casual conversation. the scar i was looking at today was probably just from plastic surgery or something (it's a really cute nose) but still, made me wonder about the word choice.
text me
i guess i'm just slow, because i did not realize til just now that text messages were invented so that the cell phone companies could make money off the fact that their products do not work very well. i mean, i can't hear ANYBODY on my cell phone. it's much more efficient to text people. and of course, great at rock concerts. especially if you're seeing, like, Nickelback.
what my boss said to me at the casino the other day:
"So do you want to hear the good news first or the bad news?.....Oh wait, there is no good news."
And she was correct. There wasn't.
And she was correct. There wasn't.
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