3.29.2010
Courier New. Increasing page count slightly since 1955. Way easier and more fun to read than this shitty font. Thanks, Howard "Bud" Kettler!
Came down with a chest cold that traveled into my upper sinuses and back four or five days ago. Pretty much over it today, only a slightly nagging cough remains. With the exception of eating a Merkel-made Korean hoagie yesterday, this weekend pretty much was worthless.
Man, it was just great to see Lindsay last week. Her and Monty are ridiculously wonderful to hang out with. Monty is apparently short for Montana, Montgomery, and Montague. Hopefully I'll see those two on their way back to Missouri.
One of the finest episodes of Lost ever aired this past week. "Ab Aeterno" focused on the secret origin of Richard Alpert. We found out just how old he was, and how he stays so young and supple. It was really rewarding to have such a well-acted, answers-heavy episode. I've really enjoyed this season, but I'm definitely a Lost-can-do-no-wrong kinda guy.
That said I've been annoyed with this season like I haven't really been in previous seasons, even the third. I think it's because I kind of expect to be blown away with sweet mythology each episode because we're in the LAST SEASON EVER, here. It's so late in the game and I can't help but be a bit nervous that the conclusion won't be satisfying. I mean, how built up is it? And not everyone has held on the whole time, the show has been plagued with declining ratings from time to time. Those that have stuck around is expecting some sweet, enriching nourishment from the endgame. I know I am.
Lost has taken its time and done it exactly the way it wants. Of all of the thousands of theories on Lost, I don't think anyone has posited "Lost is Tantric Sex" yet. It's taken 112 episodes to reach the climax, and the show is really saving up for it. And how terrible would it be if at the end, after all that, right before it was over your balls got kicked?
3.21.2010
That was a bit much
Sorry for a large amount of the content of the last blog, that isn't really how I like to roll. I can't believe I quoted Bad Religion. Thanks for putting up with it and thank you for those who have listened to me whine recently. I'm feeling much better now. I may not be a new man yet but I think I'm on my way. Let's try to move on-
I shot and edited a four-minute video for my friend applying for a scholarship at Second City. It was a lot of fun and I can't wait to make more stuff. Editing is fun but time-consuming as hell, as anyone who has done it can tell you. Here's the youtube link if you want to watch it, I think it's pretty funny considering my friend didn't want to spend a lot of time on it:
Second City Scholarship
I'm averaging around a sketch a week, and I'd like to at least double that output. A lot of what I write is decent, but some of it sure ain't. My teacher tells me that in order to write something good, you need to write a bunch of stuff that's bad at some point, gotta get that SHIT out the way. This seems obvious to me, but it's something I never gave enough thought. That seems to be the gist of this first writing class, a lot of what's being taught is stuff that seems obvious once spelled out, but good to know and good that it was spelled out. That said, this class is moving at a snail's pace. Definitely more process over product so far, and each class we've done "get to know you" shit, which would be fine except I'm not a freshman in college. We do a "good-touch fire drill" which involves eight seconds of running around, trying to tap the other 17 or so students on the shoulder. I have no idea why this happens. All I know is Ranjit, the teacher with the roundest head I've ever seen outside of Peanuts, sure seems to enjoy it. He's a bit weird, but I like him. I like him even though sometimes his voice reminds me Swampie's, it's a slightly affected and very nerdy voice.
Ok, while I was typing that last paragraph I received a call from the dude who was trying to set up that audition. It's still on, it just took him a bit to get his ducks in a row. Tuesday. Tuesday will be the day I charm my way into one of those "moving pictures" I've heard so much about. Time to learn about ghost hunting.
Chicago WinterSpring 2010 is here. it's a lovely mix of snow, rain, mud and despair. With occasional sunshine.
I shot and edited a four-minute video for my friend applying for a scholarship at Second City. It was a lot of fun and I can't wait to make more stuff. Editing is fun but time-consuming as hell, as anyone who has done it can tell you. Here's the youtube link if you want to watch it, I think it's pretty funny considering my friend didn't want to spend a lot of time on it:
Second City Scholarship
I'm averaging around a sketch a week, and I'd like to at least double that output. A lot of what I write is decent, but some of it sure ain't. My teacher tells me that in order to write something good, you need to write a bunch of stuff that's bad at some point, gotta get that SHIT out the way. This seems obvious to me, but it's something I never gave enough thought. That seems to be the gist of this first writing class, a lot of what's being taught is stuff that seems obvious once spelled out, but good to know and good that it was spelled out. That said, this class is moving at a snail's pace. Definitely more process over product so far, and each class we've done "get to know you" shit, which would be fine except I'm not a freshman in college. We do a "good-touch fire drill" which involves eight seconds of running around, trying to tap the other 17 or so students on the shoulder. I have no idea why this happens. All I know is Ranjit, the teacher with the roundest head I've ever seen outside of Peanuts, sure seems to enjoy it. He's a bit weird, but I like him. I like him even though sometimes his voice reminds me Swampie's, it's a slightly affected and very nerdy voice.
Ok, while I was typing that last paragraph I received a call from the dude who was trying to set up that audition. It's still on, it just took him a bit to get his ducks in a row. Tuesday. Tuesday will be the day I charm my way into one of those "moving pictures" I've heard so much about. Time to learn about ghost hunting.
Chicago WinterSpring 2010 is here. it's a lovely mix of snow, rain, mud and despair. With occasional sunshine.
3.11.2010
and bombay gin.
Writing has been going very, very well. Writing something you're proud of is unlike anything else, but it can be compared to inducing laughter from a large group, sex, a really good meal, and Big Trouble In Little China (widescreen). I'm happy to say that I'm kind of a natural when it comes to sketch writing. I guess I'm not sure how what I write will eventually play out on stage (it's gonna happen) but I'm happy with it, and I hope everyone else is too. If not, fuck 'em. I'm clearly ahead of my time with my sketches about vegetables, Steven Seagal and and ass cancer. Hopefully by the end of the summer I'll have co-written and starred in some kind of show. We'll see, writing comedic gold (wink!) isn't enough, there's a whole lot to think about regarding finding a performance space, lighting, staging, and some other technical mumbo-jumbo. I'd be completely lost if I didn't have a good writing partner/someone who knows what they're doing. I'm a fucking newbie to this whole thing and I got lucky finding someone with a similar comedic sensibility, a willingness to work, and some experience in this area. Here's to hoping it continues to go well.
I'm glad that writing sketches and doing improv is going well, sometimes it feels like that's the only thing that is. I haven't been able to produce stand up jokes in a few weeks, I've lost interest in it. My hairline continues to recede. Trying to quit smoking hasn't worked. My super-shitty Ikea bed and dresser are falling apart on me. I can't sleep regularly. When I dream, it alternates between surreal and depressing. My heart recently had to give something up it didn't want to. I'm up and down. I tell myself to buck up and sometimes it works.
I've never been so aware of my flaws as I have moving to Chicago and living largely alone. I now realize how childish, selfish and hurtful I can be, despite my best intentions. Like many 21st Century Digital Boys, I don't know how to live. Oh god, how maudlin can you get?
Love is a bitch. When you love something, everything reminds you of it. CLICHE, Cliche, cliche. But cliches are often painfully true.
The one thing I've prided myself on is suffering as silently as I can, as long as I can. No reason to burden others, I can anticipate reactions and the pawing reassurances. But I don't think that's entirely proper, I mean it's romantic to be the silently-suffering type, the type that drinks shots of whiskey, smokes cigarettes, is friendly but carries the weight of the world behind their eyes. That's a giant load of bullshit. I don't know about you, but I need other people. I like having alone time, but PEOPLE and the getting-to-know-them is what life is all about. If you're lucky, people are there to support you and receive the same. That's what I've learned I need. Maybe in BG where I knew that friends were in abundance it was easier to remain quiet in my sadness but that time is over. A year ago, I would never reveal how I really feel. I guess I don't know why that is. Maybe because I don't know how to handle extreme emotion and it's caught up with me. Maybe because I don't think I've ever fucked up something this big. And I've certainly fucked up my share of shit. I'm having trouble writing this and publishing this, I've written and rewritten, published and erased this post because I feel like I'm drowning in pity. I guess I do want it to be said, and known.
This'll help: Here are some things I recently have found love and/or am grateful for-
A break in the shit-weather
Anthony Bourdain, and as a result all kinds of food-lust
The fact that I'm getting answers from Lost, regardless of how I think it's playing out
My family.
The music of Steely Dan
Captain America
Kari Rakas
Johns Salvage, Rapalee and Zibbel
Nick moving to Chicago.
Rogaine
Finding the ridiculousness in anything
A good, solid shit.
Egg rolls with sweet chinese sausage
Any number of superficialities.
I'm glad that writing sketches and doing improv is going well, sometimes it feels like that's the only thing that is. I haven't been able to produce stand up jokes in a few weeks, I've lost interest in it. My hairline continues to recede. Trying to quit smoking hasn't worked. My super-shitty Ikea bed and dresser are falling apart on me. I can't sleep regularly. When I dream, it alternates between surreal and depressing. My heart recently had to give something up it didn't want to. I'm up and down. I tell myself to buck up and sometimes it works.
I've never been so aware of my flaws as I have moving to Chicago and living largely alone. I now realize how childish, selfish and hurtful I can be, despite my best intentions. Like many 21st Century Digital Boys, I don't know how to live. Oh god, how maudlin can you get?
Love is a bitch. When you love something, everything reminds you of it. CLICHE, Cliche, cliche. But cliches are often painfully true.
The one thing I've prided myself on is suffering as silently as I can, as long as I can. No reason to burden others, I can anticipate reactions and the pawing reassurances. But I don't think that's entirely proper, I mean it's romantic to be the silently-suffering type, the type that drinks shots of whiskey, smokes cigarettes, is friendly but carries the weight of the world behind their eyes. That's a giant load of bullshit. I don't know about you, but I need other people. I like having alone time, but PEOPLE and the getting-to-know-them is what life is all about. If you're lucky, people are there to support you and receive the same. That's what I've learned I need. Maybe in BG where I knew that friends were in abundance it was easier to remain quiet in my sadness but that time is over. A year ago, I would never reveal how I really feel. I guess I don't know why that is. Maybe because I don't know how to handle extreme emotion and it's caught up with me. Maybe because I don't think I've ever fucked up something this big. And I've certainly fucked up my share of shit. I'm having trouble writing this and publishing this, I've written and rewritten, published and erased this post because I feel like I'm drowning in pity. I guess I do want it to be said, and known.
This'll help: Here are some things I recently have found love and/or am grateful for-
A break in the shit-weather
Anthony Bourdain, and as a result all kinds of food-lust
The fact that I'm getting answers from Lost, regardless of how I think it's playing out
My family.
The music of Steely Dan
Captain America
Kari Rakas
Johns Salvage, Rapalee and Zibbel
Nick moving to Chicago.
Rogaine
Finding the ridiculousness in anything
A good, solid shit.
Egg rolls with sweet chinese sausage
Any number of superficialities.
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