So I didn't end up getting the Advanced allotment the other day. I'm not too bummed, actually, except for when I talk to other people about it. If they seem upset, I too feel a strange responsibility to be upset. Like I'm not treating it seriously enough.
Listen, it's really not a big deal. I mean it. I'd rather you not feel upset about it. I genuinely think this is a blessing in disguise, and I will still make the film I want to make, and hopefully will do a good job of it. It just won't be in that class.
Luckily I've been able to bury myself in other work, which I am sorting through slowly and inefficiently (Story of my...). Storyboarding homework, a paper on Disney's WWII cartoons, and a life drawing assignment should be manageable. But three chapters of my memoir for my non-fiction class? What the hell am I possibly going to do with that? Have I even lived long enough? Done enough? Possibly the most excruciating exercise possible. Why did I sign up for this class? Does this post count?
I went to the Knicks/ Suns game with Sean Dunn on Tuesday, which was a huge bust for the team I wanted to see and an almost uncomfortable surprise for the other. Nash with 6 turnovers in the first quarter? The Knicks won, I spent the next day in an exhausted stupor, and except for picking up the new copy of Smoke Signals #3, it was mostly an unproductive mess.
Still fending off a general bitterness, I went for a long overdue session of basketball at Coles. It had been a month since the last Sports Team loss, and still being in a state of mourning I hadn't picked up a ball since. After struggling and wheezing my way through two full court disasters, in which I saw my athletic pride and functioning lungs flash before my eyes, I pulled out one impeccable game of pickup basketball. I'm a little out of shape, obvious from the first games, so in the third game, which featured some fresh and fairly high quality regulars, I made a concerted effort to use my energy wisely. I played economically, cutting when I had to, defending smartly, not crashing every board needlessly. I pushed the ball in transition and played patient offense. I shot the ball with confidence. I felt great. We ended up losing 13-11, but my stat line was out of control. I must have been 6-10, 2-3 from behind the arc, with a few assists and no turnovers. Team loss, personal win.
Pickup is all about these little, personal victories. Winning is honestly an added bonus, dependent on other, usually uncontrollable variables. The fleeting nature of the "team" in a pickup game and the expected lack of overall coherence leaves a player little to do but focus on their own performance, and their ability to hopefully contribute in a positive way. In a sense the best you can do is what you can do.
I'd like to think about my lack of allotment in the same way. It would be ridiculous and awful to gauge my being "cut" from the team as an absolute loss. It shouldn't even be thought of like a team at all. Why did I make that analogy? I'm being unfair to myself and the process and the people who did manage to get it. I'd like to take the progress I made in my story, in pre-production, in the good ideas I've slowly collected about the film, and hold on to them. Keep going with them. Find some avenue to use them. Small, personal victories.
After the games and a shower and the realization that yes, I did have to put sweaty socks back onto clean feet (forgot an extra pair), I emerged from the gym in a state of contentment that only fulfilling exercise can provide. I was tired and probably less spry but my steps felt balanced, my breathing focused, my movements deliberate. When I got to the computer lab to study and write, my thoughts moved swiftly and the usual distractions seemed uninteresting. I was in a zone of concentration accessible only to the physically worn.
Such is the reward of physical sacrifice. The bruise in my thigh has colored and grown and my legs were certainly stiffer the next day. But those are good, useful pains. Those will fade and, like any great RPG character, the experience will benefit me and eventually lead to an increase in ability. I like playing basketball because I like feeling like my body has been used. I like how good I feel after tough exercise, and how much more I wish it was a regular part of my life. I like feeling like I've done something.
Still working on the music posts. Trying to figure out good ways to talk about music, ideally with access to specific songs in the post. Anybody know a good embeddable mp3 player a la Lala or something? Right now I'm using youtube like this
"Call Me" - The Andrea True Connection
Upcoming music posts:
Kanye, Big Boi, Harold Melvin, and the narrative of a sample
The Andrea True Connection and the disco's bad rap
Panda Bear/ Animal Collective/ feelings of fear/ envy/ bliss
Nirvana
Big Blood
Pavement
Songs/ Albums of the Year
Showing posts with label writins. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writins. Show all posts
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
BOB COSTAS...
...makes everything seem like the Olympics. Right now he is doing Sunday Night Football and instantly making it the most important and inspirational event of the weekend.
I had a great Thanksgiving. Spent it with the Malone family of Yardley, Pennsylvania; M. Night Shyamalan country. Played a lot of Call of Duty 6 (MWII?), bought a lot of comics, slept. Rinse repeat. Spent Thanksgiving dinner with Rob's family on his mom's side. Oh Zach Feintraub was there too. I made a decent batch of cornbread, met some characters, fumbled through some social customs a la "Curb", and played far too many party games. Not the type of party games that are actually fun for all people playing, but the entertaining and annoying party games that all seem to take pleasure in their vicious exclusion. Games that make you feel stupid. Games like "I'm going to the picnic", the "Open/Closed" game, the "Indian numbers game", some other version of charades, "Umbrella", "The Green Glass Window", and then one game that involved a number between 1 and 100, some kid from Washington, and Zach Weintraub "blowing my mind". We never played that last one. But Bob Malone and Kaity Malone were super in to it, and I guess the general bitterness those games create is a small price to pay for memorable social interactions between strangers.
Yardley was relaxing in the best way. Rob's family was wonderful and even started making fun of me towards the end, which is just about the nicest thing a surrogate family could do to make some kid seem like he's at home. Tried to watch a couple movies, but never got through any. Saw half of Big Wednesday, Ultra Warrior, and Silent Movie, the end of Unforgiven, bits of Dead Snow, the beginning of Scrooged, and selections from The Ben Stiller Show. Nothing finished. Story of my...
No seriously, I blame it on my hip.
No seriously, I blame it on my hip.
I don't know how many movies I can get through anymore if my hip keeps acting up. It really hurts to sit still in chairs, especially when I am putting pressure on my right side. It hurts and I always have to readjust for temporary relief. I feel like it's a pulled muscle but it's not getting any better. I also feel old.
The one full movie I did see in its entirety was Old Dogs, in theaters. It's relentless and retarded and surprisingly watchable. At least Bernie Mac was in it. Oops. I can't recommend it to anybody but my hip was magically cured for those 88 minutes, so in that regard it was a success.
The one full movie I did see in its entirety was Old Dogs, in theaters. It's relentless and retarded and surprisingly watchable. At least Bernie Mac was in it. Oops. I can't recommend it to anybody but my hip was magically cured for those 88 minutes, so in that regard it was a success.
I bought 66 dollars worth of comics in the last week, which I'm still sorting through right now. I really like some of the things I bought and really dislike some of the things I also bought. That's how hunting goes though. How else would I know what's going on in the often disappointing, occasionally extraordinary world of comics?
I guess I spend a lot of money movies I don't like. The ratio is probably worse actually, for movies, than comics.
Anyway.
POWR MASTERS - CF
Anyway.
POWR MASTERS - CF
Judgment Day
I find out tomorrow if I get the allotment in my competitive Advanced Production film class. A lot of people probably don't even know that I'm in Advanced, or I'm trying to make a live action short film, or that I'm even alive for more than one day a month. But yes, I am in such a class, and I am fighting to stay in it (By fighting, I mean twiddling my thumbs). My fate is in the hands of one stocky, bleary eyed, difficult to read Ezra Sacks, who is at times among one of the best things about NYU. However, he's gotten behind a couple of terrible scripts. Also he doesn't talk to me much. Considering there are only 10 allotments left for 18 students, and that a few of those students are certified "locks", I should naturally be feeling nervous or antsy about these signals, and this situation.
But I'm not. I'm not really that anxious.
I can't really relate my calm to anything other than the prepared acceptance of one's fate, in which I have not only gone through every possible reason why I would or would not be selected, but every emotional response to rejection as well. With all these options explored, any of the normal, accepted worries are now behind me, or beneath me, or at least somewhere out of sight.
I'm also enrolled in Narrative next semester. So I guess the film will be made.
I'm also enrolled in Narrative next semester. So I guess the film will be made.
doodles from Advanced
I am writing right now to remember how it felt, since it's been awhile. I apologize if it is of little consequence.
I think I'm going to write some stuff about music this week.
NEXT TIME: Chargers (8-3!), Suns (14-3!!), the crazy airport and suburban levels from COD MWII, the crazy nightmares I had from said levels, the mad brilliance that is the Mike'd Up Sports show on WNBC, the new "Indy" comic Rob and I are working on, the public access show I'd like to be working on, the Brooklyn comic book festival this weekend, the various movies I haven't seen and need to see, and my obsession with YahooAnswers.
NEXT TIME: Chargers (8-3!), Suns (14-3!!), the crazy airport and suburban levels from COD MWII, the crazy nightmares I had from said levels, the mad brilliance that is the Mike'd Up Sports show on WNBC, the new "Indy" comic Rob and I are working on, the public access show I'd like to be working on, the Brooklyn comic book festival this weekend, the various movies I haven't seen and need to see, and my obsession with YahooAnswers.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
WRITINS
I'm taking creative writing right now. It's real fun. Hopefully I can get a minor (only 4 classes). I love writing stories but I'm a horribly undisciplined writer so it's nice to have someone on your back making deadlines.
What an idea! I would love to have my own personal man on my back making deadlines. Productivity in life and school and in Blakecity would increase tenfold!

(maybe it would be like the personal stenographer from that episode of Chappelle's Show. At least that's what I imagine.)
As much as I like writing, I find it really tough sometimes to show people my work. "It's not ready!" is a common excuse I've been known to use, and a weak one at that. "But it's not, I swear!"
Maybe one day I'll "finish" one of these stories that sits in development limbo (industry term) and print it out and give people copies and draw little pictures at the beginnings of the chapters.

But we have to write poetry in the class, and it's not something I care about as much, so I show that without any anxiety or hesitation.
Here is a poem I wrote about my greatest fear. Can you guess what it is?
MY BIRTHDAY
I woke with a start-
Cried for my wife,
“My face! It’s melting!“
Pressed my hands to my cheeks
tried to hold it all together
catch the falling bits just in case
Then she rushed in, upset,
But soon calm. Told me to relax
led me to the washroom
I dropped my hands and, well,
saw for myself. My face looked the same
I guess I’d just forgotten.
What an idea! I would love to have my own personal man on my back making deadlines. Productivity in life and school and in Blakecity would increase tenfold!

(maybe it would be like the personal stenographer from that episode of Chappelle's Show. At least that's what I imagine.)
As much as I like writing, I find it really tough sometimes to show people my work. "It's not ready!" is a common excuse I've been known to use, and a weak one at that. "But it's not, I swear!"
Maybe one day I'll "finish" one of these stories that sits in development limbo (industry term) and print it out and give people copies and draw little pictures at the beginnings of the chapters.

(Redwall was always great at this)
But we have to write poetry in the class, and it's not something I care about as much, so I show that without any anxiety or hesitation.
Here is a poem I wrote about my greatest fear. Can you guess what it is?
MY BIRTHDAY
I woke with a start-
Cried for my wife,
“My face! It’s melting!“
Pressed my hands to my cheeks
tried to hold it all together
catch the falling bits just in case
Then she rushed in, upset,
But soon calm. Told me to relax
led me to the washroom
I dropped my hands and, well,
saw for myself. My face looked the same
I guess I’d just forgotten.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
beached whales
Tired, bed, etc.
Weird headaches, sickness, warm weather, exhaustion. Must be April?!
I think I need to learn how to type properly. Then I can write down my ideas before I hate them, not after.

Also, I'm thinking about starting a 25-30 minute music podcast about good African music from the 70's and stuff. Like this, which may be one of the greatest songs ever written.

"Strange Dream" - Witch
Does anybody know how to make a podcast?
Does anybody download these songs I post?
Does anyone want to take me on in Peggle?
Weird headaches, sickness, warm weather, exhaustion. Must be April?!
I think I need to learn how to type properly. Then I can write down my ideas before I hate them, not after.

Also, I'm thinking about starting a 25-30 minute music podcast about good African music from the 70's and stuff. Like this, which may be one of the greatest songs ever written.

"Strange Dream" - Witch
Does anybody know how to make a podcast?
Does anybody download these songs I post?
Does anyone want to take me on in Peggle?
Saturday, March 15, 2008
he feels like hes not worth a pinch
not worth anything like that
he is the pinata
the slug
beat into a pulp by those flourescent rods
bleeding his syrup for the children
to kiss and eat
they rush to the carcass
they love the trail
he sweats and bake and his pores ooze
rewarded by sprinkling hard rains
a shower suns.
pink.
His own frustrated mess can't even bring itself to stand,
jelly covers their faces
and they roll in the excess
they laugh and bathe and play ball in it.
One even holds a balloon
He just wants to wait for the rain. Then he will be ok.
Then he can step outside and wash the dirt from his face and
feel ok again.
Step outside and let it hit and sink
That's when it feels fresh and clean and things grow
and he will be ok in this world
not worth anything like that
he is the pinata
the slug
beat into a pulp by those flourescent rods
bleeding his syrup for the children
to kiss and eat
they rush to the carcass
they love the trail
he sweats and bake and his pores ooze
rewarded by sprinkling hard rains
a shower suns.
pink.
His own frustrated mess can't even bring itself to stand,
jelly covers their faces
and they roll in the excess
they laugh and bathe and play ball in it.
One even holds a balloon
He just wants to wait for the rain. Then he will be ok.
Then he can step outside and wash the dirt from his face and
feel ok again.
Step outside and let it hit and sink
That's when it feels fresh and clean and things grow
and he will be ok in this world
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