Mister T

I feel like Mister T lately. I turned down the horror film in order to write what I'm calling my High Concept idea next. I'm probably going to turn down an offer I got to play drums in a band. And these three other writers I had lunch with today want to "gang write" a script, and even though I (half-heartedly) committed to it, I'm gonna have to be Mister T on that one, too. Mister Turndown.

Feedback has been inexorably filtering in on Air Conditioned Jungle. A friend with a cutting sense of humor called me at 8:45 this morning to tell me I was a fraud. Nice to wake up laughing, it's good for the circulation. My manager met with me two days ago to talk it over and I could tell he wasn't feeling it. I think maybe he didn't get the comedy. He used a lot of praising language, but it all had the studied sound of the therapist telling the patient that vioelnt fantasies are perfectly natural, all the while making imaginary finger circles around her ear. A few other friends gave detailed thoughts, for which I'm grateful. Some people even liked it a lot. Go figure. I'm anxious to get back to it, but not too anxious since I'm taking a much needed break. Alas, I'm going to need to get back to it pretty soon. It sits too long, it'll get shuffled to the backburner, and the backburner is bad. Bad burner.

Paris is in the offing, writing in the cafe's of Paree. More about that later. For now, I'm going to just sit in the hot tub (at the Y, which is not as gay as it sounds) and think of all the actors I could cast in AC Jungle. That's always fun. The thinking, not the hot tub. Hot tub is relaxing. In a very straight way. Although...

Decision or two or three

So here's the deal in no particular order: Last monday I was offered a job working with a director to develop an original idea she has for a creepy, Ring-like horror film. There's money involved, and it would be the second writing gig I will have been commissioned for in almost two years (which is not bragging, no). Her idea is not terrible, and it even sounds like she wants to make an intelligent and thoughtful movie - which, naturally, Hollywood will inoculate with stupid. But lest I let my bitterness flow too freely, let me just say the offer is very tempting whatever the outcome. The money is sufficient that if I can do the whole thing in two months, I will have made out pretty well.

It's a career decision more than a money thing right now. I mean, let's face it, I need the money. But the dilemma for me is What Should I Write Next? A horror movie? Not according to an article in today's Hollywood Reporter. The thing I have next up to write is an idea of my own, and it is the first High Concept idea I've ever had that is any good. What I mean is that I usually don't have high concept ideas, and just the fact that I do have one and I actually like it is something new and exciting - and according to certain parties, the only way I'm ever going to make a career of this. Btw, if you aren't familiar with the term High Concept, peep this.

Into the mix, throw in that I finished my own script on Friday and now I feel a burning need to move quickly on to the next thing. If the script that is in the hands of the production company, director and Rober Duvall ever gets made, I need to have a couple of things under my belt to show people right away, striking while the iron is ever-so-briefly hot. Finishing my latest script, Air Conditioned Jungle, I have one down, one to go; half of a powerful arsenal to show any prospective agent/producer/craven money man. Comes to this: my High Concept career-making idea is wrestling the horror offer for top spot on my to do list.

Oh, and my girlfriend is going to be in Paris for nine weeks working on The Bachelor, or Le Bachelorr as I like to say it, so I'm pondering a sojourn to The City of Lights. You know, to write on cafe napkins.

Meager placeholding nothingness

There may be a band in my future. And a trip to Paris. One does not have anything to do with the other. But these are good things. Plus I finished my script on Friday. Still... it's late Sunday night and despite the relative good news of late, I'm going to finish listening to Jeff Buckley's version on "Hallelujah" and get all wistful and sad. Mmm, Sunday nights and sadness. As it was, as it ever shall be.

More tomorrow.

Crazy Town

Just in case you're wondering, this is the guy some of your favorite celebrities worship. Makes us hysterical Hollywood liberals look normal by comparison.

Note to Future Drunken Self...

Maybe not to get on the blog after a night of the pints and quarts.

Awoken this morning by my asshole neighbor yelling at her mother on the phone. 6:30 am. Then her house workers arrived at 8 and started sanding at 8:30. The sanding is over, and it must be staining time because the vapors coming in my window are making me a bit lightheaded.

It could just be that I'm sick of my godforsaken script - I've been doing nothing else for two and a half months and it's time to birth the friggin thing and get it out, get it read and up on the site.

Hmmm. Maybe there is an interesting experiment to be made of posting a script on this site as a Wiki and releasing into the arms of strangers to make it better. Since Hollywood screenplays are already a jumble of faceless particpants, why not just cut to the chase and get you, the audience, to write exactly what you want to see? Do away with credit altogether! Yes! Let's hear it for armchair quarterbacks!

But first I must quit dithering. I actually need to finish the thing before I can throw it up on here for you bastards to rip apart. And so I leave you, dear reader, to court the muse.

By the way

Does it really get much better than Young Frankenstein? Gene Wilder, my idol.

Update after numerous beers and years having gone by

I mean, let's face it. Has it been a very interesting life so far? I think we know the answer. And the answer is no. Really. Not all that interesting. It hasn't been so interesting. There is... oh, I'll be conservative and say there is... a truckload left to do. You know, to make it interesting. Or at least to not make it not an out and out waste. It's been pretty pedestrian so far. I mean, when you come right down to it. Pretty generic. Did this, went here, saw that. But no particularly good war stories. Nothing out of the ordinary, that's for sure. Nothing that I think makes them say hey, or wow, or how about that. You know, pretty run of the mill shit. Sure there's the Hollywood angle. But really. I mean. Is that such a big deal? I mean, not such big deal to me, not such a big deal to all the others out here. It's just the way it is.

Ah. Yeah. I guess it's bedtime. Time to sleep 'er off. Sorry folks.