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| Adaptation |
| 04.28.04 (6:09 pm) [edit] |
A couple months ago while we were editing "DEADROOM" in New Mexico, I came across this [url=http://query.nytimes.com/gst/...]article[/url] from NYTimes. I tucked it away while telling myself that I'll attempt to turn the story into a screenplay.
While clearing my desk last week, I read the clipping again and promptly e-mailed the reporter, basically telling him what I wish to do.
This morning, he responded.
As expected, some folks have already contacted him wanting to do the same. He said that I can feel free to venture into my adaptation, but I should know that there's a chance that someone may jump in at any time to purchase the rights to the story.
I don't care. I wanna write it anyway. Something about the article still haunts me till this very day. Regardless of who ends up making the film, I can say that I took the challenge.
Besides, it's about time I write something that's not entirely my own.
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| Of car wrecks and donkey sex |
| 04.25.04 (3:05 pm) [edit] |
Friday night, David and I were to attend our colleague's photo exhibition at Expo Lounge. The roads were slippery and sometime in the car after I said, "Okay, I know how to get there," a Dodge Ram ran into us from the left lane.
This officially marks my very first auto accident and I'm glad David was there (he's had four) to advise me what to do. Unfortunately, the offender was a Hispanic man who spoke no English and had no insurance. We decided to call 911. He was freaking out, slapping his hand against his shaved head from time to time. He apologized, but my car was in bad shape. He scribbled his name and number, but I had to transcribe them again to make sure they were correct.
"Pablo?" I asked.
He nodded.
"Pablo Ramirez?"
He nodded again. I could've repeated my own name and he would approve.
David got his friend Guillermo on the phone to act as a translator. Our understanding was that we would all just wait there till the police arrives, but Pablo eventually hoped into his truck and sped off.
A cop showed up fifteen minutes later and we explained what occured.
"Oh, they never have insurance. I bet he doesn't even have a driver's license," he commented.
Just as I was questioning if we were potentially dealing with a racist law enforcer, he added, "Of course they don't speak any English."
Right then, I felt bad for Pablo, and I understood why he drove away.
"I say it's a hit-and-run in this case," the cop concluded.
"But we had a communication problem..."
"Doesn't matter," he interrupted.
I called up my insurance company shortly after. I have a $250 deductible for uninsured motorists, which means it's still money I need to fork out even though the accident was no fault of mine.
"Do you still wanna go to the exhibit?" David asked.
I looked at the time. It's already close to 10:45. We decided to just hang out at his place, where we were then joined by his boyfriend Blake. Their dog Seymour affectionately humped my arm again. We then watched a downloaded clip of two women fucking a donkey in a field. I already had two bottles of Mike's Cranberry Iced Tea by then so I was feeling giddy, probably trying to forget that my car was sitting outside in its damaged state.
At about 1:20, we headed out to [url=http://www.guidelive.com/prof...]TMC[/url], where I had another drink and a jello shot. There were men dancing with their shirts off, proudly prancing the results of their workouts. And then there were the surrounding patrons, standing there watching, perhaps wondering if they were gonna sleep alone that night.
"I'm so over this," David remarked.
[i]Me too.[/i]
When we stepped out from the club, it was pouring. Something about running to the car in the rain at 3AM made me felt terribly alive. Six hours ago, I could have been injured. Or I could have been dead.
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| Anal |
| 04.22.04 (11:17 am) [edit] |
Ever took a dump, not use enough TP and walk around feeling sorta itchy inside?
I just did, but instead of walking right back into the toilet for a second round, I justified to myself that I'll just take care of it when I shower in the evening, which is kinda silly considering the next six hours I have to endure the discomfort (and not to mention, potentially turning my undies into a skidmark disaster).
I didn't bring this up to gross people out, but I think it's a perfect analogy of what I went through in the past 48 hours.
So we got the "DEADROOM" sound wonderfully remastered and remixed by an actual sound engineer, and I was supposed to ship it out to our first big festival yesterday. Of course, the paranoid me had to pop the screener in and make sure everything's okay. Ten minutes later, I was scribbling notes on a pad, pointing out everything that's even remotely wrong. In my head, a battle was taking place:
[i]Oh my gawd. This scene's music is mixed up way too high. Oh shit. What's with that little pop? Fuck. Why is the dialogue so soft here? It's okay, the people getting this will overlook all these and judge the film strictly by its merit. But what if they don't? What if one of them has an ear infection and is highly irritable? Dammit - this ain't ready! Forget it, what's our chances anyway? I mean, really. No, no. Don't you dare start pulling that shit now. Not now! Keep fighting! Keep improving! You know it can be better. Why settle with a B+ when you know you can strive for an A-?! But seriously, do you think we'll get in? Just by making these stupid changes? Come on. You know what? You need to shut up and get this shit done right. No excuses. You get one shot at this honey. DO NOT FUCK IT UP![/i]
So I did. I wiped myself clean and I'm working on getting our submission closer to perfection.
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| Recap |
| 04.18.04 (7:28 pm) [edit] |
Blogging is like working out. Once you slack off, you feel like quitting.
Yesterday was James' birthday. We went to a midnight screening of "Cannibal" at the Inwood. It was fun. Highlight was when I yanked the toilet curtains open in the men's room and accidentally caught a glimpse of Mr. Johnston's johnson. Well, at least I think I did.
I had a little get together before the show at my place. His other half Amy made a cake for him. People who came were from [url=http://www.spiraldiner.com/]Spiral Diner[/url]. I also invited David, but I felt like a rude host when he and I started babbling about "Connie & Carla." I think we were the only ones who have seen the film. Okay, it was bad, but it ain't stopping me from watching [url=http://www.sonypictures.com/m...]this[/url] .
Speaking of movies, "Kill Bill, Vol. 2" was FAB!
I want [url=http://www.urbanoutfitters.co...]these[/url] [i]badly.[/i]
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| From Adam Smith in LA |
| 04.16.04 (5:29 am) [edit] |
I stopped off at a gas station on my way home this
evening. As I entered, the attendant said, "Hold on
just a second" as he rushed to the bathroom. Probably
the Hershey Squirts. So I stood in front of the
bulletproof glass and waited for him to emerge. The
bulletproof glass functioned as a partially
translucent mirror. Two men were standing behind me.
One was disheveled and had 2 beers in his hand. The
other was well dressed and well-kept. Because of the
lengthy span of time it took for the attendant to
return from the uncontrollable poopathon, the two men
struck up a conversation.
"How's it goin'?" said the disheveled man.
"Oh, pretty good, how about you?" replied the well
dressed man.
"Oh, you know, just tryin' to be happy. Happy and
homeless." He let out a burst of laughter that was
very real. He was truly happy, at least for the
moment. Maybe it was because he had scrounged enough
money to buy 2 beers. Or maybe it was because he
really was generally happy. It wasn't a crazy person
laugh. Or the fake laugh that I'm used to giving
while waiting tables. "HA HA! That's hilarious!
(it's not actually hilarious, or even remotely funny,
but I need your money, so here's a rehearsed laugh in
exchange for said money)."
Well dressed man -- "Happy and homeless, huh? Guess
it beats being rich and sad."
At first I thought that the well dressed man was just
keeping his end of the conversation up with an
alcoholic homeless man. But after looking in his eyes
from my position in front of the bulletproof glass I
soon realized that the rich man was in some way
envious of the homeless man. The rich man has
everything that represents the American dream. A nice
car that he’s gassing up, clothes that his wife
probably bought for him on Rodeo drive, a full head of
hair. And he’s sad. And envious of this semi-toothed
man with no place to live. Don’t really know what to
make of that. Just find it puzzling.
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| I adore me |
| 04.12.04 (2:08 pm) [edit] |
Attended my colleague Karen's wedding in Cameron, Texas on Saturday. It was raining like mad and the ceremony and reception were both planned for the outdoors. People thought it was dreadful but I thought it was symbolic of an everlasting marriage: come rain or shine, they will be together - dammit! How much more meaningful would it be if this was a gay wedding? Thunder and lightning may signify god's disapproval but the two men shall kiss in front of their guests under the downpour, vowing to be with each other forever. Awwww...
[url=http://www.cameron-tx.com/]Cameron[/url] is a small town about fifty miles away from Waco. There were some fascinating sights (there's a strange adrenaline rush when you're driving along a moving train; I highly recommend it), and it suddenly dawn upon me that this is the kind of place where "Pit Stop" should be set in. It would be funny to try to fool the Baptist populated locale into thinking I'm shooting a regular film, as opposed to a fag flick.
A noteworthy conversation between Jerry and Karen's mom:
"Hello there, and you are?"
"I'm Jerry. I'm Yen's partner."
"Oh - I know Yen."
And then she walks away.
Didn't make it back in town in time to attend Nick's surprise b-day party, which I heard was a lotta fun. Burned him a copy of [url=http://www.kevinenjoyce.com/p...]Phoenix[/url]. Nick's band, The Theater Fire, is up for a nomination at the [url=http://www.dallasobserver.com...]2004 Dallas Observer Music Awards[/url]. Let's hope they win come Tuesday's annoucement.
Had our meeting yesterday and I showed them the press kit I've been working on for the past two weeks. Also gave [url=http://www.road-dog-productio...]David[/url] all the behind-the-scenes footage from [url=http://www.burnwhite.com/sai/...]Sai.[/url]
"Did you watch it?" He asked.
"No." I responded.
Later on, David flipped through the booklet and noticed a photo of Kara that wasn't part of the stills we shot.
"Where did you get that from?" He asked.
"Oh...it's from the behind-the-scenes footage." I reflexively thought.
[i]Oops.[/i]
"I had that somewhere." I responded.
It's one of those moments where I thought: [i]now why the fuck did I lie?[/i]
The truth is, while designing the booklet, I realized I didn't have very good stills of myself, our production designer Kara and our AD Chris. Last week, David joked that I kept forgetting to give him Sai's tapes because I was "making sure that I looked good in them," which now sounds ironic in retrospect.
His remark then sparked the idea of reviewing some tapes to see if I can grab better looking stills of myself, Kara and Chris. I didn't find any of myself, but I found better ones of Kara and Chris, which I used.
I think I fibbed because I felt absurb that I somehow did what David kiddingly suggested I was doing. The act of searching for a nicer pic of myself is just nauseatingly narcissistic, and I was embarassed to admit of indulging in a behavior I claim to despise in others.
It may sound ludicrous, but I think I'm the type of person who sets myself up for these Bridget-Jones-ish scenarios. On the other hand, I always take the effort in making sure that my friends don't have to go through such mortification.
It's like when I photographed the [url=http://www.deadroommovie.com/...]"DEADROOM"[/url] directors at work on the set. I had an understanding that these guys would like their pictures to be taken, just like I wanted my pictures to be taken when it's my turn to work. The problem is, when other people don't have the same understanding, then you're caught in a situation where the unspoken favor is unreturned, but when asked for, you end up looking like a self-adoring brat.
I remember requesting David (via e-mail no less) to shoot some staged stills of me "directing." I ended up cracking a goofy grin in one and bending over in the other like a bottom waiting for a good pounding. Don't get me wrong, they looked funny, but it's an example of an event that's unnecessary, where I really didn't have to make myself look like an ass.
But I did.
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| Because I need money honey |
| 04.08.04 (9:23 pm) [edit] |
[url=http://www.livejournal.com/~boyracerdavid/]David's[/ url] boss asked him today if he knows why I'm still working in the office, because I'm talented enough that I should be making films or something. David explained that a lot it has to do with the risks I'm taking, and that many factors are financially driven (e.g. income to survive), which doesn't allow me to necessarily pursue the things I really want to do.
Talent is such a subjective thing. I consider all my
[url=http://www.deadroommovie.com] DEADROOMies[/url] to be talented too but we're still scrambling for money. Unfortunately, talent alone doesn't open doors. Talent displayed to the right people may get you somewhere, but you still have to be really lucky for that to happen.
I received an e-mail from a fairly accomplished screenwriter today. I met him at one of the festivals last year and we've been corresponding from time to time. He has done his share of film and TV (Sundance, Showtime, meeting one-on-one with Scott Rudin), but now he's at a point where if he doesn't sell his next spec, he has to look for another job to support himself. Unbelievable. And he is also very talented.
My mother believes that success should never happen to anyone at a young age. Maybe she's right. Maybe I'm still paying my dues, learning my lessons, maturing through time. Being ambitious is one thing, being impatient is another. If I made [url=http://yentan.moonfruit.com]"Happy Birthday"[/url] today instead of three years ago, would it be a better film? Would I make less mistakes? Would I have a deeper understanding of the subject matter?
David's boss also suggested that I shouldn't be so secretive about my film endeavors. I should let everyone know, because I never know who I might meet next.
Hmm. Perhaps it is time to be obnoxiously self-whoring. After all, there are a lot of rich bitches in town.
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| Busy busy |
| 04.06.04 (9:19 pm) [edit] |
I've been working hard in putting a press kit together for "DEADROOM." I spray-painted a box this past weekend, came across a nicer box tonight and decided to trash the old one. All that hard work - wasted! Otherwise, it's printing, correcting, re-printing...
Maybe I'm being overly sensitive, but I've been hearing some casual remarks from some co-workers that I don't do much in the office. I've been on down time lately, so it's not like I'm sitting on my pile of shit and doing nothing. It's strange how when I'm busy they don't comment that I'm doing too much (and of course, doing stuff that's irrelevant to my job description, like making stupid company videos). Guess this is just all part of the dreaded corporate culture. You "joke" that your colleague is unproductive, hoping that it'll make you look more productive. Then, you crack that joke over and over again, but when you're confronted, you can just say, "Oh, I was just [i]joking.[/i]" By then, the boss would've heard about the joke already and think it's a fact. Phooey.
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| 34 points |
| 04.05.04 (9:54 am) [edit] |
We watched [url=http://www.deadroommovie.com]"DEADROOM"[/url] again with Daniel's original score.
Towards the end, I was relief that everything came together nicely, although I still had four pages of notes for revisions (if nothing else, college has taught me the fine art of note-taking). While reviewing them with the guys, I was subconsciously pulling a balancing act of criticizing and ego-stroking. I think I was overly vocal for the most part, and it was hard sometimes to tell if I was voicing a valid concern or if it was a matter of personal preference (and not to mention, my sudden bursts of internalized homophobia). However, if the issues are not brought up now, then when? I keep justifying to myself that pickiness at this point is essential. It is harsher to regret later, when you're seeing errors in a theater full of audience. That's when you wish there's a hammer lying around somewhere to knock yourself out with.
David [url=http://www.road-dog-productio...]summed [/url] it up the best when it comes to that love/hate relationship we encounter with our work. Right now, I feel optimistic of the film's prospects. But a week ago, I had to constantly remind myself that we've been working on this project for the past two years. It was as if the movie's behind me, when the journey has hardly begun. Personally, the fun part is going through all the festival excitement again, but I get to experience it with the rest of the gang. I can't wait to see their faces when they walk into a theater and it's SOLD OUT.
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| Scratch and sniff |
| 04.03.04 (2:33 pm) [edit] |
Last night, David, James, Amy and I went to see "Hellboy" at the Irving Mall. David used to work there and we both ran into a ticket checker who was giving us a tough time because our stubs said "Walking Tall."
David then proceded to tell us her story:
"She would reach into her pants, scratch her crotch and eat popcorn - [i]with the same hand.[/i]"
"None of the uniforms fit her, so there was always [i]excess fat[/i] hanging off her waist."
"One employee screwed her in his car and the security had it on tape. Everyone cried, [i]burn the tape![/i]"
Needless to say, I was fascinated, much to David's regret, who will have to endure the remarks I'll be making of her and the million-dollar challenges I'll be posing: [i]for a million dollars, would you eat her out with peanut butter smeared all over her crack?[/i]
People like her intrigue me. I find it disturbing and interesting that she doesn't seem to give a fuck. Much of it lies upon my assumptions, visualizing what her life is like beyond tearing tickets and touching herself with buttered fingers. I see her assortment of unwashed sex toys while she waits for equally filthy men to take advantage of her. I imagine her crying to sleep at night and promising herself that she will make her life better when morning comes, only she never does.
"Hellboy" was entertaining, but seeing how excited David and James were, I couldn't help but wonder whatever happened to that blockbuster-lovin' part of me. The anticipation of that next comic-book adaptation or those teasers that made me go [i]wo, did you see that??[/i] These were the kind of films that inspired me from the very beginning but I find myself watching them these days and my heart doesn't beat any faster. I admire the extraordinary talent and craftsmanship displayed but I don't feel anything else. Have I grown up too fast for my own good? I miss being that boy.
On the other hand, [url=http://www.lacunainc.com/]this[/url] one grows lovelier in my head everyday, and to think I was tempted to walk out an hour into it. Memories, good or bad, make up who we are. They're both essential to our existence. To deny either is to deny living. Wow. I can't get over that scene when Joel and Clementine are in the house by the beach and it's falling apart and she's asking him if he wants to stay or leave...he wants to stay but the memory is leaving him. Ingenious!
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