As I've said already, I'm experiencing a blue period right now. Although I had a conference call with my agent this morning, and it went well, I'm still having somewhat overwhelming doubts about my desire to truly work in and around the film industry. But, I've not given up hope. In the meantime, I still have this on off gig with my former employer in the UK, and it is honestly a bit relieving to do day in day out work, it provides some type of baseline, if nothing else.
Today, though, I'm having a hard time. I was out till 2am last night, with Pedro, as usual. Another cousin of mine, Jorge, was out as well, but left at midnight like I should have. He's a stockbroker, and I should have followed his lead. But, I needed last night. The DJ was on full steam, and was mixing great classic tracks with newer stuff.
I heard both of these last night, and decided to repost them, since I'm still thinking of them right now. The first, again, takes me back to my heyday in NYC in the early 90's, when my cousins and I would tear the shit out of any club we hit, and were still getting huge bonuses and making all our meetings. We were fucking rock stars. I truly am feeling my age in the midst of this existential crisis. It could also have been the 8 shots of Patron I had last night, I'm going to let the jury decide that one. But, it was at that moment last night, when I knew I was going to be a wreck this morning, that the second track came in, and picked me right back up. I'm thinking of booking Joker for my birthday next year, or perhaps on Mexican Independence Day this year, although I'm sure that idea will be sidelined in favor of some stupid Mariachi band or retarded Reggaeton DJ.
At any rate, I have to get back to work, but it felt good to get that off my furry little chest.
vs.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Don't Try
I am adrift in an existential mire. Per my last entry, I've increasingly found myself under fire for deadlines on my screenplays, to the point of a near inability to tolerate the creative process. For the first time in my life, I've considered returning to the humdrum of currency markets and financial analysis. I've just been so taken aback by the reality of writing and the demands of Hollywood
I've also as of late found myself increasingly turning to my cousin, Pedro for solace, which usually leads to me watching the sun rise and waking up the next day smelling like breakfast burritos from The Hollywood Grill (no relation to my current issues, they're open all night and breezies frequent the establishment from 2-5am). This, obviously, is not good, but I feel I'm in a truly blue period right now, and Pedro is helping, in his own way. His ever optimistic spirit helps pull me up when I need it, even if it's only to down another shot of Patron.
It's times like this when I turn to my tried and true quote book. I found a particular quote in there today that is quite demonstrative of my situation, and lends advice.
"Somebody at one of these places...asked me: "What do you do? How do you write, create?" You don't, I told them, you don't try. That's very important: not to try, either for Cadillacs, creation, or immortality. You wait, and if nothing happens, you wait some more. It's like a bug high on the wall. You wait for it to come to you. When it gets close enough you reach out, slap out and kill it, or if you like its looks, you make a pet out of it." - Charles Bukowski
I remember dropping my coffee the first time I read this passage. As I sit here now, tired, overwhelmed, and under stimulated, its meaning has never been more lucid to me. I am who I am. There is only one of me, and as such, I need to keep on keeping on. I must. It's for the best, not only for me, but for those around me.
To this end, I've started therapy. As My Master so often says "Smokey has a lot of issues today." Today, my friends, is everyday. And, as I look a month back at my 42nd birthday, it's about time I tackle the issues that are still, to this day, keeping me from truly self-actualizing. I am an artist, a sensualist, and a hopeless romantic. I need to confront my darkest depths if I'm going to continue my ascent towards the stars.
Here is a picture of me in therapy. My therapist uses animal avatars sometimes, when it's too hard for me to talk about my own issues. I think I chose a nice one. This is really helping, I'm sure of that already.
I've also as of late found myself increasingly turning to my cousin, Pedro for solace, which usually leads to me watching the sun rise and waking up the next day smelling like breakfast burritos from The Hollywood Grill (no relation to my current issues, they're open all night and breezies frequent the establishment from 2-5am). This, obviously, is not good, but I feel I'm in a truly blue period right now, and Pedro is helping, in his own way. His ever optimistic spirit helps pull me up when I need it, even if it's only to down another shot of Patron.
It's times like this when I turn to my tried and true quote book. I found a particular quote in there today that is quite demonstrative of my situation, and lends advice.
"Somebody at one of these places...asked me: "What do you do? How do you write, create?" You don't, I told them, you don't try. That's very important: not to try, either for Cadillacs, creation, or immortality. You wait, and if nothing happens, you wait some more. It's like a bug high on the wall. You wait for it to come to you. When it gets close enough you reach out, slap out and kill it, or if you like its looks, you make a pet out of it." - Charles Bukowski
I remember dropping my coffee the first time I read this passage. As I sit here now, tired, overwhelmed, and under stimulated, its meaning has never been more lucid to me. I am who I am. There is only one of me, and as such, I need to keep on keeping on. I must. It's for the best, not only for me, but for those around me.
To this end, I've started therapy. As My Master so often says "Smokey has a lot of issues today." Today, my friends, is everyday. And, as I look a month back at my 42nd birthday, it's about time I tackle the issues that are still, to this day, keeping me from truly self-actualizing. I am an artist, a sensualist, and a hopeless romantic. I need to confront my darkest depths if I'm going to continue my ascent towards the stars.
Here is a picture of me in therapy. My therapist uses animal avatars sometimes, when it's too hard for me to talk about my own issues. I think I chose a nice one. This is really helping, I'm sure of that already.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Freakend
First, an update. I have not been blogging as much as of late. There are several reasons for this. First and foremost, I've been under extreme duress as far as my professional writing goes. Specifically - I'm an artist. As an artist, I can't really be expected to simply churn out work to please the time constraints of others. If I get declined by a sweet chippie and hit a blue period for two weeks, then my work suffers for two weeks. Big deal.
There is literally nothing I can do about this, yet studio executives do not seem to agree. If I had wanted a 9-5 job, I'd have stayed on full time in the UK as a financial analyst. I need more than that, ladies (gentlemen too, although I don't really care what you all think). I need more. I'm not the type of puppy who can just go along with being told what to do. Those years are past me. In my early to mid twenties, I could have put up with such rough treatment, despite my value add to the company. But no more. No more shall I be made to feel as if my work is anything less than the prize that it is.
So, due to these external demands, I've lost a screenplay contract. This just goes to show how much chicanery and utter bullshit is involved with Hollywood talent agents. They all want to be your friend, they'll offer to clean up your poop, bring you chewies, and I'd assume even in some cases (you can tell, they act effeminate from fifty paces) lick you when you're too tired to lick anymore. It's disgusting, it really is. While I consider myself a purist, and try to shy away from using agents and their representation to push my screenplays, there are times when I have to, if for no other reason than they have contacts that I don't.
So, there's my first reason. It's hard. I want to update this site more often, I really do. I have a constant stream of ideas bubbling out of my tiny furry head, I just don't often find the time, or am simply frustrated with the practice of writing, to update as much as I'd like.
Now, my second issue: My Cousin Pedro. Now, I mean, Christ, look at him. Does he look like anything other than a distraction? This is from last Saturday. My Nemesis's sister and brother in law were in town. I have met them before, and in fact nearly seduced his sister once, read an earlier entry for a synopsis of that night. So, we go out and hit the town hard on Thursday (some Irish folk holiday devoted to, as far as I can tell, Irish beer (yuck) and whiskey (better)) and I take them out for a really nice meal on Friday. Saturday night we all decide to just stay in, listen to some music, and hang out around the house. Fucking Pedro shows up at 12:30am, all dressed up, coked out of his mind, and starts yammering about how we're all going to The Evil Olive, because he knows the bouncer working and says we can all get in for free, and get cheap drinks. Now, I KNOW he's full of crap, but I play along, if only to placate him enough so he leaves My Master, Nemesis, and his sister and brother in law alone.
We end up getting back at 5am. My head still hurts. I slept all day today, and although I went into work with My Master today, I'm still planning a day of heavy sleeping.
So...I don't update as often as would be ideal, and I'm catching flack for being "late" with my screenplays. As long as this guy is in my life, I think I'm going to have to get used to this. He's family, and I'm Mexican, there's nothing I can do.
There is literally nothing I can do about this, yet studio executives do not seem to agree. If I had wanted a 9-5 job, I'd have stayed on full time in the UK as a financial analyst. I need more than that, ladies (gentlemen too, although I don't really care what you all think). I need more. I'm not the type of puppy who can just go along with being told what to do. Those years are past me. In my early to mid twenties, I could have put up with such rough treatment, despite my value add to the company. But no more. No more shall I be made to feel as if my work is anything less than the prize that it is.
So, due to these external demands, I've lost a screenplay contract. This just goes to show how much chicanery and utter bullshit is involved with Hollywood talent agents. They all want to be your friend, they'll offer to clean up your poop, bring you chewies, and I'd assume even in some cases (you can tell, they act effeminate from fifty paces) lick you when you're too tired to lick anymore. It's disgusting, it really is. While I consider myself a purist, and try to shy away from using agents and their representation to push my screenplays, there are times when I have to, if for no other reason than they have contacts that I don't.
So, there's my first reason. It's hard. I want to update this site more often, I really do. I have a constant stream of ideas bubbling out of my tiny furry head, I just don't often find the time, or am simply frustrated with the practice of writing, to update as much as I'd like.
Now, my second issue: My Cousin Pedro. Now, I mean, Christ, look at him. Does he look like anything other than a distraction? This is from last Saturday. My Nemesis's sister and brother in law were in town. I have met them before, and in fact nearly seduced his sister once, read an earlier entry for a synopsis of that night. So, we go out and hit the town hard on Thursday (some Irish folk holiday devoted to, as far as I can tell, Irish beer (yuck) and whiskey (better)) and I take them out for a really nice meal on Friday. Saturday night we all decide to just stay in, listen to some music, and hang out around the house. Fucking Pedro shows up at 12:30am, all dressed up, coked out of his mind, and starts yammering about how we're all going to The Evil Olive, because he knows the bouncer working and says we can all get in for free, and get cheap drinks. Now, I KNOW he's full of crap, but I play along, if only to placate him enough so he leaves My Master, Nemesis, and his sister and brother in law alone.
We end up getting back at 5am. My head still hurts. I slept all day today, and although I went into work with My Master today, I'm still planning a day of heavy sleeping.
So...I don't update as often as would be ideal, and I'm catching flack for being "late" with my screenplays. As long as this guy is in my life, I think I'm going to have to get used to this. He's family, and I'm Mexican, there's nothing I can do.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
An Ode to What Will Never Be
I awoke this morning in a shroud of sadness. One single tear fell to the ground and splattered, and symbolized the hopes and dreams of this country being free and equal. We are born and die who we are, the poor most often die poor, and the rich most often die rich. These are the labels of Americans these days, we are no longer an equal society, either we fight the rich, or we try to ignore the poor. I do not
always fly in my private jet, nor have my driver to escort me, I walk these trash filled streets, and ride the subways. Every single day I see people begging for survival, way too many people. Our leaders have forgotten these people. I am currently reading "Decision Points" by our former President. The most introspective opinion he had in his book was about how stalemate our Congress has become.
"In 2006, only about 45 of 435 House races were seriously contested. Since members in so called safe districts do not have to worry about challenges from the opposite party, their biggest vulnerability is getting outflanked in their own party. The result is that memeber of Congress from both parties tend to drift toward the extremes as insurance against primary challengers."
A real leader would think for all of the people, not try and please the parties that have been crushing our democracy more and more every year. A real leader would reform our political system, although as GB pointed out, this would mean that politicians would have to give up some of their power, which we know will never happen.
The hope that if you worked hard you could make a decent living and provide basic neccesities for your family is being diminished by the greed of those whose pockets run deep with money, and ties to power. Most of the politicians are no more intelligent than two year olds, yet they make decisions that decide the fate of millions of Americans. How has our country come to this? Maybe it is our education system, it has failed so many of us.
Yesterday history was made in Wisconsin, by a man who failed out of college, and who has failed to hear the country's cries of dissaproval in taking away rights from workers. Being a small dog, this affects me, I am a minority, and my vote is delegated to My Master, who turns a sharper ear than mine to my political musings.
I am no longer Democrat or Republican. My philosophy contains the notion of education, healthcare, and freedom of choice. This country has nothing to offer me, and never will.
always fly in my private jet, nor have my driver to escort me, I walk these trash filled streets, and ride the subways. Every single day I see people begging for survival, way too many people. Our leaders have forgotten these people. I am currently reading "Decision Points" by our former President. The most introspective opinion he had in his book was about how stalemate our Congress has become.
"In 2006, only about 45 of 435 House races were seriously contested. Since members in so called safe districts do not have to worry about challenges from the opposite party, their biggest vulnerability is getting outflanked in their own party. The result is that memeber of Congress from both parties tend to drift toward the extremes as insurance against primary challengers."
A real leader would think for all of the people, not try and please the parties that have been crushing our democracy more and more every year. A real leader would reform our political system, although as GB pointed out, this would mean that politicians would have to give up some of their power, which we know will never happen.
The hope that if you worked hard you could make a decent living and provide basic neccesities for your family is being diminished by the greed of those whose pockets run deep with money, and ties to power. Most of the politicians are no more intelligent than two year olds, yet they make decisions that decide the fate of millions of Americans. How has our country come to this? Maybe it is our education system, it has failed so many of us.
Yesterday history was made in Wisconsin, by a man who failed out of college, and who has failed to hear the country's cries of dissaproval in taking away rights from workers. Being a small dog, this affects me, I am a minority, and my vote is delegated to My Master, who turns a sharper ear than mine to my political musings.
I am no longer Democrat or Republican. My philosophy contains the notion of education, healthcare, and freedom of choice. This country has nothing to offer me, and never will.
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