Hands Up Like You Told Me

There's no clearer step back, I don't think, than returning to the place you left when you took your last step forward. Now, I'm going to try twice as hard just to get back to where I was.

Such is life when everything decides to pull a full collapse.

And I Will Not Pay

My brother starred in a movie called Metal Gear Retarded while he was in Japan. I've seen a rough cut, and needless to say, it's totally awesome.

Given the marathon of problems that I've incurred lately, it should come as no surprise that I've still yet to buy the Canon HV-20 that I finally managed to settle on. I want to get it so I can make a damn movie.

Not that I'd have time anyway. I've subsisted through unemployment so far by doing odd jobs and contract work. The problem with that is that, while they do take care of the short-term problem, they also take up time that I would prefer to be using applying for more permanent positions. Throw that on top of the natural stress, plus the fact that I don't know where I'm going to be living in two weeks, and it comes pretty clear that I haven't been able to do anything creative all summer.

It could always be worse, though. A friend has had a real nightmare of a summer. Personal tragedy is a lot worse than not having a job.

And hey, at least I don't have VD.

Fight Test

I ride my bicycle around New York a lot. It is often faster than any other form of transportation and always more fun, plus it makes me feel a lot better about the fact that I don't get any exercise, primarily because it's, you know, exercise.

On Monday, I went to see Paprika, which was simultaneously excellent and bizarre beyond explanation. I rode my bike to the theater, which is stupid for several reasons: it was 85°F that day; I rode into Manhattan at midday; and I had to leave my bike chained up outside for a few hours. Nevertheless, I persevered. And my bike didn't get stolen.

After the movie finished, which left me riding home in the middle of rush hour, I pedaled off down the avenue. When the city planners deign to put a bike lane on a one-way street (which they did in this case), that lane is on the left. I was riding on the right because I had a right turn upcoming, and not even a New York City cab driver would be crazy enough to take a right turn from the left lane. Wait, yes, he would.

This one, however, committed a far more egregious sin. Cabbies often cut me off to make turns or perform a passenger pickup or dropoff. This is normal behavior, but one could say that familiarity breeds contempt, because cab drivers are my enemies. However, this particular cabbie did more than just cut me off. He did it on purpose, for no greater reason. He cut me off for its own sake.

I pulled around him, yelling "Thanks!" (sarcastically, duh) at him as I rolled by. He pulled out, or tried to at any rate, but I was taking too much of the lane for him to get out until I passed. For vengeance, you know.

He finally got around me and yelled, "Why do you think they put the bike lanes on the left?" I have a sneaking suspicion that my response ("To protect us [cyclists] from cabbies, motherfucker!") may have angered him, because he immediately cut me off again. I rolled past, again. He responded with, "My name's not motherfucker. I'll run you down!"

Now, the obvious response to that is to get away from the crazy man quickly. Which, thanks for a confluence of my self-preservation instincts and friendly traffic lights that made him stop while I kept going, I did. Still, I think it's needless to say that within a few blocks I had come up with several to many witty comebacks to his defense/threat. The lesser of these involved either some form of violence against his car or insult to his manhood vis-à-vis threatening a cyclist with a car (obviously, the car would win. Thank you for your kind explanation, sir). However, the cleverer, and meaner, and more likely to result in my not getting hired by any potential employer that discovers this blog, were thus:

"I'm sorry, I couldn't read your name card, Mr. Shithead."
"Oh, right, I was the one fucking your mother."

The moral of this story is that cab drivers have finally come out into the open with their previously barely-concealed desire to kill me. Which isn't really a "moral" so much as maybe a "theme" or an "observation" or something. But I didn't study literature at college, so I don't really know. Anyway, the point is that they are more like Travis Bickle than I can be comfortable with.

The Ground Beneath Your Feet

As we can all easily imagine, helping your boss to write his resignation letter is a bit depressing. The even better part is a couple days later, when the big boss receives the letter and calls you to tell you that you need to start looking for a new job.

Needless to say, this puts a further damper on my plans of, you know, enjoying my summer.

It could be worse. I could have scurvy.

I Guess We'll Just Have to Adjust

In the spirit of comedy, I took almost five months away from this blog just to see if anyone noticed. As expected, they did not.

In any case, there is a little bit to update. I wrote a new short called Love and Respect. Bonus points if you can figure out the inspiration from the title. If I ever get to make it, I plan for it to be pretty stylized and hopefully awesome.

Ah, there we are. Reread the last sentence of the previous paragraph again. If I ever get to make it. I've been, if not overcome, then certainly blindsided by a continuing comedy of errors.

The main concern has been entirely of my own doing, or at least is exclusively my problem. Aside from Love and Respect, I haven't done fuck all for months. I don't know why this has been a problem; traditionally, I tend to take on a lighter workload in the winter, for whatever reason, and get a lot accomplished in the spring and summer. Now, though... nothing. For months. (Well, as previously mentioned, there was something, but the point stands.)

Past that: still no actor for Transatlanticism. The storyboards have evidently disappeared from public view, as well. The camera front has been no better. I waffled on buying the Canon HV-10 because if was missing a few key features that I wanted, chief among them a 24fps speed setting. So what happens? They release a new model, the HV-20, that addresses every concern I have with the HV-10.

And then my source of funding runs out. So no buy camera for Full Contact Origami.

All of this has led to a monumentally crushing insecurity. I finally had to start doing stuff that normal people who don't have to work for themselves in their free time do for fun. It's interesting, I think. I bet it would be more fun without the god damn crushing weight of guilt that I should be doing something other than, say, playing Frisbee in the park or whatever. To alleviate the frustration, I've been rebuilding the Full Contact Origami site as a way to feel like I'm getting something done. It's been working so far, but now I'm almost finished, and when that happens, I don't know what I'm going to do with myself.

It's all very annoying.

Get Up

So: I wrote the shooting script for Transatlanticism in one night. I'm a little over halfway through mapping out the storyboards. I am under the impression that shooting has been delayed a few weeks because, while I do not have a problem shooting in negative degrees Celsius weather, many, if not most, of my volunteer crew do not seem to be eager to do so.

On the plus side, I have a crew. I didn't even have to get them drunk. Yet.

It looks like my camera choice is good. Native 16:9 aspect ratio and high definition means that my job in editing gets much easier. The bad part is that I either have to get A) a new computer or B) more memory for my existing one if I am to take full advantage of the tools I need.

On an unrelated note, I've been afflicted with a soul-crushing insomnia lately. I'll reach 24 hours in this most recent spell in about twenty minutes. I've slept an average of one night per week for the past three weeks. I've gotten whatever other rest that's been from simply losing consciousness for one to three hours.

Needless to say, it is awesome.

I think I need to take a few days off of work. Seriously.

Get Wrecked in Some Bar

You know, I should probably start posting more than once every three months if I ever expect anyone to read this thing.

Ah well, maybe some day.

In actual news, preparations for the filming of Transatlanticism continue apace. I've cast the female character and I have most of the crew. I also rewrote the screenplay and am (still) working on the shooting script. There are only two things holding me back: uncertainty about the camera I chose to buy and casting the male character.

Casting shouldn't be too big an issue, especially since I already know who is playing opposite him. However, I don't know very many male actors, and there is a chance that I might be delayed rather than just going with whoever is available. We'll see.

As for the camera, I want to buy the Canon HV-10. I could theoretically buy a better model, but I didn't do too well in my donation drive, and I don't want to spend $6,000 or more on something that might fail miserably. Nevertheless, I need to be sure it can do the job, and, well, I'm not. But I'm on it.

And... I think that's all. I might be drunk, though, since I had four beers for lunch, so if anything comes to me, I'll be back.