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left column is the loneliest column in the world. hi! hey! hi pretty girl. monkey-girls.
but stee backlash already start to happen.
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6pm. hills. walking.
You have your quiet little life
Forty-thousand miles away
Couldn't be where I'd been being
You come home from cocktail hour
Knew each other years ago now
I jump out of bed for good
As the light above the city
Pointedly and with a purpose
Past the mountains, fields, a river
You are sitting in your dayroom
Happiness is secondary
Through the tunnel I continue
As you struggle not to let
Down the stairs you pitter patter
After that what does transpire? Prosaically… …Saturday night we had our reading. Action script. First time hearing it aloud. 20 people in a small apartment. I loved it. I was extremely pleased. We noticed a few rough scenes, scenes that needed tweaking, but all in all it sounded great. And when hearing my own stuff, things usually jump out at me, but it didn't here. Quite surprised. We got a few notes, but mostly they were contradictory and just unhelpful. That sounds rude, but they were. M. made a suggestion that was so clear and concise, it made everything else seem ridiculous. She has a very good ear, despite not being a writer. (Although she failed when trying to help me come up with a new vibe. I was complaining that I can no longer be smoking guy in the corner with the mystery. So I came up with a few alternative nicknames/vibes:
"Bouncy" - bouncing a little ball everywhere I go But none seemed to work, and M. suggested I just stick with the current "Twitchy" "Irritable-man" and "Babbles".) But honestly, this weekend I was on one long manic talking jag. Three hour monologues that had the room cracking up, but left me tired and a little embarrassed. Last night, then, I couldn't sleep. I had probably the worst night of sleep in four or five years. Don't know what's wrong with me. Elsewhere… …On Sunday as my mania continued, I bought 80 bucks worth of CD's for no reason. And last night as I was driving around to and from Superbowl stuff, I listened to Eminem's album. Here's a quick thought on him: I love him. Not only does he have Skills, but what is great about him is the fact that he doesn't talk about bitches and ho's, doesn't talk about "the benjamins", doesn't brag about how great he is (3 things that currently totally dominate the rap scene, thematically). Rather, he does something really odd and cool. He brings self-loathing to the rap game. And it's funny and disturbing and like he says, he "just don't give a fuck". And it shows. Techno-Corky… …After leaving my computer on all night, I shut the thing down normally. Next time I started it up, it said that it was going to open in SAFE MODE using minimal drivers blah blah blah. Anyway, now it opens each time automatically in safe mode. Help. Meanwhile… …We got some great American Beauty haiku. Just sick and wrong. Here are some of them:
float, float, paper bag
nice poufy nipples
if i leave tonight
Mommy likes flowers
Neighbors are homo
Film brings me life lite -jessica kaman
Action adventure,
Need a genre change?
Here American Beauty -Byrne
Mom asked if I saw,
I love real estate -jeff long
Spacey kissed a guy
Who is Thora Birch -Stephanie Caviness
Chris Cooper abounds
gay couple next door
reading nabokov
moving toward end -Tom Witherspoon
Old guy smokes and lifts
Psychotic Realtor
Sam Mendes directs
Plastic bag dances -Nick Condon
Sure, you'd kill my dad
Real estate mogul
girl on the ceiling -Misty Thompson
I was so Depressed
I like plastic bags
Oh no! Woe is Me! Finally… …So my entire division here at work is moving. Two years in the same building. How excited am I about this move? If a naked Cate Blanchett walked up to me with a carton of smokes and told me that cigarettes were no longer bad for you and by the way, "do me", I would be less excited than I am about moving. It's closer to my house. It's in a much much more centralized area with tons of restaurants and things around. And the biggest reason: it's different. I don't care if the new place is infested with screaming Outbreak ass-monkeys that steal your pens and pee in your CD's, I just want a fucking change of scenery. And I have it too good here to leave. Same with my apartment. I love it, but I've been there over 3 years now and I'm desperate for a change. But I have it too good there too. So I'll be writing these from a new location, with hopefully a new outlook on my 40 hours a week of tedium. And if there are any huge typos or boring entries, blame the ass-monkeys, cuz you know, they're not that smart.
The Larry King Happy Song Corner 
I guess I thought you'd be here forever. Another illusion I chose to create. You don't know what you've got until it's gone. And I found out a little too late. Larry was acting as if you were lucky to have me. Doing you a favor. I hardly knew you at all. Then you were gone. And it all was wrong. Had no idea how much I cared. Now being without you takes a lot of getting used to. I should learn to live with it. But Larry don't want to. Being without you. It was all a big mistake. Instead of getting any easier, it's the hardest thing to take. Larry's addicted to you, baby. You're a hard habit to break… speaking of which. I went to the Magic Castle in L.A. once. The magician, seeing a big star there (moi, silly), pulled me onto the stage. The illusion I chose to create? Saw the woman in half. "Wish I could do that with a few of my exes", I quipped. The whole crowd: on the floor. Laaaaadies! |