So. Las Vegas.
Found a place to live.
Found what looks like a job.
Found what looks like a career path.
Found some friends (seriously, a gay black dude that's the burliest queer in the world and likes Lucky Star? I think we're BFFs).
Next month, the movening begins.
(also herp derp two weeks to that deadline and I've written three pages, all bad)
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Things be lookin' up yo. It appears that I have a job (crappy) and a place to stay (equally crappy) and should be able to move up in the world from there. If not, just terribly crash and burn. But I have faith in myself that I can overcome this obstacle and go on to something bigger, better and less soulcrushing than my life in Reno here in Vegas.
Up up and up some more.
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Now that all my bullshit personal drama is out of the way and I'm back into my groove, I'm starting to write again. I basically have a month to pound out this Devil Cars thing we'd talked about for LIKE FIVE YEARS NOW IT SEEMS for the screenwriting competition I posted about a few entries back in my history.
I spent about two hours tonight... And got one page of prewriting. Herp derp duh. I'm so bummed that I lost a bunch of previous work I'd done on the piece. I really especially loathe it when I come up with something clever and original and then lose it, forcing me to try and dig it up again and reconstruct a very pale imitation of the original creature, much like dinosaur bones in a museum as opposed to the original creature.
It's all very frustrating, but I feel that I've pruned the main cast of protagonists, antagonists and protagonist support characters down to three for each faction, instead of the like five I had previously.
After spending some time in Las Vegas, I got a bit of a lay of the land. I keep forgetting that the supertacky Fremont Street Experience is hell and gone away from the new Strip, it's all the way over by the Fitzgerald's and the Stratosphere, like three miles from the Neostrip.
Regardless, I need to write a sequence where a Devil Car is rampaging through that accursed M&M's store. Fuck that place, fuck it in the buttery soft asshole. If I were to distill what I hate about Las Vegas into 2400 square feet, it'd be that fucking soulsore.
Due Date August 1. I can do this. I can do it not because I believe in you who believes in me, not because I believe in me who believes in you who believes in me, but because I believe in me who believes in you who believes in me believing in you believing in me ++_$TL37# !RECURSION ERROR SEGFAULT. PURGE DATA AND RECOMPILE KERNEL ++_$#&23#
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Me and Kim Jong Il are brothers right now.
SO RONERY AND SADRY ARONE.
All my friends are married or have moved away.
Not even Ravage the pointiest kitty helps out.
I need to move.
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This is crossposted from my GAYcebook page, so some of the names won't mean anything to my elljay friends.
The Trip
Subtitled: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
As trite and cliché as it sounds, my recent cross country trip was not undertaken to visit my friends or see the sights, but really to visit me.
I spent a long time alone in a borrowed car, traversing the states of Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas only to turn around and make the trip all over again. Three solid days in a car both ways, 18 hours of drivetime in each (save the first and final legs from Reno to Vegas which is only eight) leaves a guy with a lot of solitude and alone time to reflect, to meditated and to try to grasp his condition and his place in the world.
The main goal of the trip was to visit my best friend Angeline in Galveston TX.
( MUSHY ROMANTIC INTROSPECTIVIST HORSESHIT FOLLOWS )
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Oh hee hee hee. Dennis Kanenwisher (aka D-kane, aka Denny-kun, aka 8=D~) has a Facebook page. I tried to buddy him. I hope he accepts.
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Just on the border of my waking mind there lied another time when darkness and light were one. I treaded the halls of sanity, I felt so glad to be unable to go beyond.
Then I watched Twilight again (you heard me). It made me come to a few stark realizations.
Well hell guys, watch it yourself and then we'll discuss. Go ahead. Oh hell here's a link for you. It's eleven minutes, it won't kill you, you big burly strapping manny-man-man men.
So, what the hell, women? Is this what passes for a panties-moistening cultural phenomenon these days? If so, then my respect for you as a gender has crashed through the floor, set back by a good eighty to ninety percent. No amount of enlightened video rebuttals from Sarah Haskins can make me retain the level of respect I had prior.
And they've made me think about swearing off of women. I don't want to look at or touch one ever again. Just basically fuck women. Not in the literal sense of course - because they're dead, beneath notice... Instead of being respectful and attempting to treat them with the same level of respect I give others that I've previously assumed to be of equal or similar intellectual footing, rather instead to treat them with the same disinterested disdain as I would a small child that doesn't know better or an inbred show-quality dog.
But wait... are those voices crying out in the darkness? Not all women fall for the line of bullshit antifeminist propaganda spewed by the Stephanie Meyer multimedia juggernaut machine? Tinny distant voices peeping like baby chicks in a nest. "But we don't all feel that way! It's the same folly as perpetrated by a High School disciplinarian to dismiss or punish the body whole thanks to the actions of a minority!"
Being an enlightened, liberal-minded populist, I realize that to dismiss an entire gender based upon the harpy-like trills of a vocal minority is fundamentally opposed to my very system of ideals, so I let the gears turn a bit and actually sit and think this out.
Is what we're seeing with the Cult of Twilight exactly what it says on the tin: women in general reducing themselves to incoherent, irrational beings obsessed with that which the media tells them to obsess - this behavior is so repellant to my ideals, thus forcing me to finally stop straddling the fence on this whole "hetero vs. homo" debate and jangle my spurs full time in Rob Halford's tent... or is it something far more sinister?
The crankjob conspiracy theorist Yang to my idealist Yin pokes its fanged maw out from under the bridge where it likes to sleep and grumbles a thesis:
"Look, asshole" it snarls. "You saw this before. Remember Interview With the Vampire? Yeah that movie in which Brad Pitt and Antonio Banderas totally made kissyfaces at Tom Cruise and got you seriously considering the gay lifestyle? Filled your head with the false expectations that if only the rest of gay life were as ab-fab as this, then you'd be totally in? It's that all over again." The cranky conspiracy theorist side of the anthropomorphized Janus sculpture representation of my intellect thus shuffles back under its bridge, unscrews the tin lid from a bottle of bottom-shelf rum and can be heard guzzling deep drafts, muttering about black helicopters the whole while.
And he's right. Basically Twilight tries that gambit again. Typically vampire movies are dismissed as mere chick flick romantic wish-fulfillment fantasies. Whereas Interview was a big giant full-motion LED matrix billboard glowing in the darkness alongside your otherwise featurelessly straight freeway trying to sell you on the Gay Lifestyle - Twilight takes the opposite route: Rather than enticing you to the Gay Side, it attempts to repel you from the Straight Side.
And this is a real quandary for those of us that range between 2 and 6 on the Kinsey scale. Interview didn't convince us fully to ascend that latter to 7 Kinsey, which in the eyes of the gay recruiters is nothing short than a massive failure. A decade later and they tried again with the same tactic and thus Twilight was released to theaters in a further attempt to woo us undecideds.
A stiff and solid manly and secure 1K isn't going to be swayed by the movie's depiction of women, while those traipsing in the minefield between "WAY STRAIGHT DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT" and a 7K "TOM'S MAN" may find themselves utterly repelled by women, repulsed by the way they're so completely unilaterally attracted to a man that is completely dismissive of her, unless he's watching her when she sleeps, licking his chops with the same desire as you or I would when encountered with a cherry cheesecake.
When he's not thinking about her as a food item he's abusive, battering her to the point of broken bones and required surgery-intensive and yet still she swoons! She forgoes a guy that really truly does love her and is incredibly compatible with her [i]and she concedes the point, agreeing that they're perfect for one another[/i] only to return to the abusive monsterman who is only interested in her the same way we're interested in bacon cheeseburgers.
This behavior was engineered, plotted and distilled to turn us fence-sitters completely off of women forever. Well played, gay mafia. Well played indeed. You've taken my knight and placed me into check.
Maybe instead of turning totally gay, I'll simply treat women as fuck/food objects, as it's apparent that's how they want to be treated. The way women behave over Twilight has made me reevaluate my attractedness to you, my populist pro-feminist, equalitist ideals and may have decided that I'm not Way Gay yet, but a few steps closer.
If this was your intention, bravo! You brought me here but can you take me back again?
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The "Nevada" Film Office is holding a screenwriting contest.
I put "Nevada" in scary quotation marks because of the widly-held conception that Las Vegas is the state despite occupying less than one percent of its entire area. Basically the script contest is to write a feature film length commercial for the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority.
Anyway, some time back we came up with the idea to do a story about monster hot rods. The basic idea was for me to write it about Las Vegas (mainly because I hate the place and want to see people there die in a horribly hilarious manner) anyway. Sooo...
Due date August 1. 90-130 pages.
Fucking easy.
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After being all long-haul and writing two 40 page half-hour scripts no dang problem, I return to my long-abandoned feature Doomshrooms and try to write on it again.
Three hours later I'm left with a bunch of corrected mistakes, modified dialog and two whole new pages.
I
S U C K
A T
T H I S
I really want to just finish this story, I have the beats written out, but I still find myself totally anguishing over certain points of the narrative flow (which I can simply [lampshade] as [unreliable narrator] and be done with it).
Also, I sometimes feel that writing the beats and coming up with the jokes is the fun, creative part and writing dialog, action and scene description to merely be boring, pointless busywork.
Duh writing.
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Tome Versus in which I seek out challenges and crush them thus bettering myself as an artist, creator and human being.
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Okay, I've officially closed out the fund, and thanks to some hilarious drama with Paypal, finally got the funds into a cash account. I am presently seated on a US Postal Money Order made out to one Angeline Nemarich for the sum of $300 American.
Thanks to those of you who donated.
I spoke with the lass in question on the phone today and she's asking for the addresses of our donors, so she can send a thank you card. You can reach me via aim at tomeoffinalnd or via email at tome.of.finland@gmail.com and I'll be certain to forward this information to her.
I've taken the liberty of signing a card in all of your (our) names.
Thanks for helping out. You guys are great.
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Angeline Relief Fund. Clicky clicky.
So far, ReverendRagu, ZVGamequoter and Chernigov have donated. Along with my contribution, we're over $200. Help a friend out, if you could.
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Spoke with Angeline over the phone this week.
She's okay, despite the hurricane kind of fucking over her town.
Electricity and water are back, but gas and phones are still down.
Good times with cell phones.
She's okay. A-OK even.
I'm setting up a HELP OUR BUDDY fund. email me at steve.vanpelt@gmail or post a reply in the comments section here and we'll get a paypal relief fund set up.
You have the power.
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http://neodragonstar.livejournal.com/profile
Man, I really hope one of us out there has managed to snag a mirror of his page and community.
As a Kanenwisher Kompletist, I blame myself for not having done so of my own volition. I was naive in thinking that the ol' Dragonstar Comics Livejournal Community would have been around forever.
Man, am I actually tearing up over this? I feel like I just lost my best friend.
Come on, archive.org, don't let me down.
~UPDATE~
At least this is still around. I'm totally mirroring it now, lest the whole thing manage to find itself deleted and purged so that all mankind will not be permitted to bask in its etc etc etc.
Gentlemen, I'd forgotten how much fun it is to rag on D-Kane (or 8=D~, for those of you who'd been with us since the start) and his body of work. Perhaps this is the impetus I need to finally restart work on The Kanenwiki.
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I enjoyed Hellboy 2 more than The Dark Knight. This is not a statement that diminishes the latter's worth, however.
TDK makes sweet DVD burners, I prefer them over HP's offerings however Plextor's are by and far better than those made by TDK.
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Were I even bothering to participate in Scriptfrenzy, I'd be making it my bitch.
I wrote some 20+ pages on Aeon Babel between last night and a few hours today, cleared up some continuity and changed Tristan's character from a hostile cocksnot toward Rick to more of a Kamina-like mentor. I still need to write the "party scene" where Tristan bestows upon Rick some sage advice on the nature of manhood, before going out and deflating Rick's ego by totally banging Satsuki, the thinly-veiled Rei clone (of which I have dozens of tubes in my basement, all full of gloshy orange fluid and naked little doll-like clones. I think many are dead, but that's beside the point).
See, the joke here is that the Dragons are actually a manifestation of Rick's sexual frustration, and it's Tristan's part in the ridiculously-complicated-and-stupid "The Project" to act as his mentor, to build Rick up, then knock him down again, amplifying and maximizing his despair and frustration.
This is all done "For Some Reason" not at all unlike the actions of the clock guy in the last couple of episodes of Torchwood's first season.
Rocking in the free world.
Aeon Babel - The Genesis Saga, 4-10-2008.
FURTHERMORE, DERP I STILL HAVEN'T FILLED OUT MY TAX RETURN. MAYBE I OUGHT DO THAT TOMORROW MORNING WOT?
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But this is cool, too
"My favorite Bruce Campbell story is when this guy ended up standing next to him at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. The guy was shocked, he looked up at Mr. Campbell, slowly working up his courage to say: 'Oh wow, you're Bruce Campbell.'
"Bruce looked at him, dead in the eye and replied: 'My friend, someone has to be.'" - Bionicfen
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Man, over the past four weeks, I've had zero inclination to actually write anything.
Feeling completely uncreative and untalented and unskilled totally sucks. I hope this is just a rut in the road and not a downward trend.
However:
Is it possible that this has inspired me to work on Doomshrooms some more?
Yes, I believe it has. I'll have to save the Zombie Nation rewrite for another time and go back into doing Doomshrooms as a creature feature (something modern cinema audiences are sorely missing out on, Cloverfield be damned)
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...I can get to writing my Indie Movie and then collect my Oscar statue then fellate it on national television like that hipster idiot that won for Juno.
Fun fact! She had the naughty bits airbrushed out of her totally-hip tattoo before arrival at the Oscar Stadium. Apparently, according to 4chan who just loves that woman to itty bitty pieces, her tattoo informed the world that she belonged to a pimp named "John."
Awesome, huh!
I can't wait to be a piece of shit hipster that wins a gilded statue of a naked man based upon a movie I'll write based on the following guide!
( Click to read the helpful guide: 'How To Make an Indie Comedy'. )
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It's come to my attention that I've been "friended" by a teenaged Floridian Torchwood fan.
Are we ever going to be bestest of friends! Are you cute? Florida is Floridawesome. I want to pay a visit so I can shoot at alligators. Either them or nutria, which I hear are more comical than jackrabbits. Can I shoot from one of those fan-backed swamp-skiffs? If not, ha ha, you Florida rednecks might have saucy bikini beach babes, but us Nevada rednecks can spotlight jackrabbits (but not shoot at them from a vehicle because that would be illegal and we would never, ever do anything that even comes near the hem of skirting the law.)
For those of you keeping score, CSI: Miami rules and Torchwood is godawful, just in case the home audience missed the last ticker crawl that tends to speed along the bottom edge of the screen at such a lightning pace with which many of the quasi-literate viewers plonked down on their Barcoloungers have difficulty keeping pace.
Godspeed ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) undersea, welcome to the club. Stay awhile, stay forever.
IN OTHER EARTHSHATTERING NEWS:
I haven't written paragraph one on Aeon Babel - The Genesis Saga in almost two weeks. I'm feeling very ashamed of myself, but I'm having a difficult time with the jokes. RIFFING ON ANIME CULTURE - GIANT MECHA ANIME IN GENERAL IS DIFFICULT !!!! >____<;; Maybe I should make an /m/ thread? Comedy - that's hard! But Tragedy - man, that's funny.
The worst part is, I lump my rucksack, laptop within to work every day, drop it on the tech bench and not do anything with it, despite the hours and hours of soul-crushing downtime with which I'm saddled.
I did however think that it'd be dang hilarious if I were to arbitrarily throw in eyecatches and a two-minute "recap episode" somewhere toward the end of the second act, about which my Greek Chorus (two maintenance techs named Oscar and Ray) comment.
Maybe I'd be better off just writing a bunch of scenes that riff on M-Anime tropes and then find some way to stitch them together in a cohesive narrative. That's how Hot Shots! did it, right?
~buh~
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