Netflixes have a way of sitting on top of my television for weeks before my neglect is realized. What happens after is a viewing binge or they're returned unplayed, so I can get the next batch of soon-to-be-neglected films. I know, how embarrassing. Must. Stop. Now.

The other night, while taking a break from never-ending errands, I finally committed myself to "Blue Gate Crossing," something I threw in my que awhile back and I can't quite remember why I did. But...

Wow. How fucking poignant.

Just when I thought the whole am-I-or-am-I-not-gay setup has been done to death, something comes along and smacks me in the face. Hard.

Two girls in their early teens. One's in love with a boy who swims. The other is in love with her. Later, the boy also falls for the girl who can't love him back. Yes, the classic love triangle, but the approach was entirely refreshing, because the sexuality was never treated as the foreground. Emphasis is placed on their behavior*, their routines, their words**, and most of all, their moments, ranging from the most awkward to the most human***.

*Feeling heartbroken, the girl goes to her mother's room at night and lies next to her. We learned by now that she was raised by a single parent. She asks her, "How did you survive when dad left you?" Mom took the question as an indication that perhaps her daughter was just ditched herself, but she answers, "I don't know. I just did. I really don't know." The girl falls asleep, followed by the woman. A beat. Then she opens her eyes, stares into space and right then, we know she knows her real answer to the question.

**Boy: What should I say?
Girl: A secret.
Boy: Secret? All right... my pee fans out.
Girl: What?
Boy: It fans out, like a showerhead. Never in a straight line. I don't know why. Maybe the opening is too big. Don't tell anyone!
Girl: Okay.

***By now the boy realizes that his first love will be unrequited. For now, the friendship will do. They're riding their bikes, as they often do after school, racing each other from time to time. While stopping at a red light, he says to her: "Maybe some day, in a year... maybe three, if you start liking boys, you have to tell me first. Don't laugh. I'm serious." Green light. He rides away ahead of her. Her voiceover: "Watching you ride away, I'm thinking... in a year, three years, five years... where will we be? You're kind, cheerful, uncomplicated; you'll be even better. I can see you years from now. You're in front of a big blue gate, in the afternoon sun. You still have a few zits. You smile and I run towards you. You nod at me. Three years, five years later... or later, much later... what kind of grown-ups will we be? Like our teacher? Like my mom? I can't see myself but I can see you."

The film also effectively uses the Frente! song, "Accidently Kelly Street." I was frantically searching for my "Marvin the Album" CD, intending to play the track to death in my iPod.

4.16 (Saturday) - Arrived at the airport and was greeted by singer/songwriter/festiva l volunteer LisaBeth Weber. She took me to the festival's guest office to check in and pick up my badge, where I met Brian Fucking Wade (as printed on his kickass business card), who works for the Greater Philadelphia Film Office and is a screenwriter himself. I was then driven to the hotel, where I dropped my bags off in the room and headed towards Prince. I was due to meet the other three at the screening of "The Far Side of the Moon," after they're done with "Me & You and Everyone We Know." I was a little early so I waited in line while munching on a chocolate cookie. When "Me" ended, my first sight of the guys leaving the theatre gave me a brief but overwhelming sensation of comfort. It felt good to see them. Of course, I've seen these bastards as recently as a couple of days ago in Dallas, but seeing them then in another city far, far away felt incredibly reassuring, like slipping into my favorite pair of underwear. They told me how much they loved Miranda July's film (and excitedly recapped their evening before at a fancy party for Malcolm McDowell); it sure sounded like I missed a gem. Thankfully, "Far" was not a disappointment. Robert Lepage's triple duty directing and acting as twins (one straight, one gay) were quite remarkable, and Benoit Jutras' score was moving from the moment it played at the opening credits sequence. After the film, we stopped by a bar for drinks and supper then trotted back to our rooms for the night.

4.17 (Sunday) - Our first agenda of the day was the filmmakers' brunch. It was delightful to see Andy Preis and Billy Kline again. I've met both of them three years ago at the PIGLFF. James, David and I (strategically) approached TLA honcho Rich Wolff, said hello and chatted business*. I also finally had a chance to meet fellow bigwig Ray Murray, the man whom I'll always credit as the person who gave me my first recognition. I was told that they've successfully picked up "Far" and has grown tremendously as a distributor with an increasing slate of releases. We also had a chance to introduce ourselves to the lovely Ms. July, who seemed a little startled by all the attention surrounding her. Then, off to see "Astronauts" (good overall but loses its momentum with a prematurely abrupt ending; a great soundtrack though) and a stroll through the city with Nick (James and David were at "Evilenko") before our appearance at our first screening. The turnout was modest at best (fifteen) but the presence of Ti West all the way from Wilmington, Delaware made it all worthwhile. He's due to appear at the LAFF for "The Roost" and word is that they're in negotiations for a sale. Good luck! After our show, we hung out with Nick's friend, Cassie; first at a bar (where I smoked cigarettes for the very first time in my life; both rolled and filtered for the full experience) then at her mindblowing warehouse pad.

*James and David have signed on to be the producers of "Ciao" and I couldn't be happier. We're trying to secure funding now, with an approximate shoot date in spring of 2006.

4.18 (Monday) - Happy birthday James! Saw "Off Beat", which started out promising enough but slowly derailed when its emotional resonance were overshadowed by an increasingly grating alt/pop/rock soundtrack, becoming too hip for its own good. We stopped by TLA's office to get a tour from Andy but he wasn't around, thus an early appearance at the Steve Buscemi party, which was held at a swanky residential loft with a rooftop that has a spectacular view of the city. When Steve arrived, he was swamped with photo ops. The smile/snap routine went on for awhile, and I can only imagine how tedious it was for him to act like he enjoyed every second of it. Susan, another festival volunteer we befriended, made it a point to introduce us around, which was very considerate on her part. We did finally meet the man himself and he was a true gentleman (repeating your name after you tell him who you are). James and David managed to carry on a conversation with him, and it was kinda funny to see how quickly we got over our startstruckness. Soon, it was time to head over to our second screening. There was a bigger turnout (including another surprise appearance from fellow "Roost"er sound mixer Graham Reznick, whose cigarette lighter belt-buckle is one of the coolest fashion accessories I've ever seen) and I sat through the entire film this time around. The guys returned in time for the Q&A and David showed up shit-faced (he's a fantastic speaker when he's intoxicated though). Some of the audience members hung around in the lobby to speak to us further, which was very flattering and validating. And what better way to end the night than doing JD shots with Susan and gossiping about her sex life?

4.19 (Tuesday) - I'm certainly surprised I didn't wake up with a hangover. Nick had to leave in the morning so his presence was definitely missed. David and I went to catch a noon screening of "Story Undone"  (unexpectedly humoro us yet ultimately tragic) before joining James for Mr. Buscemi's "Lonesome Jim" (much better than I thought but still suffers from a lack of originality). We then split up when the guys decided to watch the late Theo Van Gogh's "Cool" and I was more in the mood for slick Hollywood-esque cinema in the form of the Tom Tykwer-produced "Lautlos" (enjoyable enough for what it is; nothing more and nothing less). Our last film of the day was Miike's "Izo," which became so trippy it was almost unwatchable after the first hour.

4.20 (Wednesday) - the highlight of the day was obviously our extended visit at the TLA office. Andy showed us around and we met almost every important person there, saying hello again to Ray and Rich. We definitely didn't walk out feeling like we were unwelcomed. The closing night film was "Music from the Inside Out" and the party that followed soon became an incentive for everyone (especially ones who were involved with the festival) to get totally smashed. My second drink was mixed so strong I couldn't walk straight for half an hour and had to stuff my face with cheese and crackers to sober up. When we got back to the hotel, James wanted to smoke his free cigar at the bar so the three of us sat around and discussed/debated potential endings for "Ciao." David vowed that he will not let me settle with anything just to satisfy audience expectations. Oh Lord, may I thank You again for granting me with such blessed company? David and I watched the last ten minutes of some skin-flick on Cinemax before going to bed. It was atrocious, but as I remarked before turning the lights out, "it was still shot on film!"

4.21 (Thursday) - Boarded the (scary) express bus in Chinatown (note to future passengers: never ever sit near the toilet; unless you enjoy the wonderful whiff of barf and urine everytime somebody entered/exit) and was thankfully in NYC in no time. Went to Jessica's photo studio and picked up the keys to her apartment. Climbed four flight of stairs to her place, left our bags and took off to Central Park and the Met (James and I couldn't get in without paying for admission tickets; David managed to sneak in however). Fatigue soon caught up (having less than three hours of sleep the night before) and James and I went back to Jessica's where I took an afternoon nap. We all went out to dinner that night and it was as pricey as a five-star hooker (excellent meal nonetheless). Took a walk around the city later and enjoyed the comfortably chilly breeze, dreading the thought of summer heat in Texas. In other news, Bryan quit his dayjob. A big congrats! Here's hoping the new project will bring him lots more in the future.

4.22 (Friday) - I had to prepare dinner for the party, so in true New York fashion, David and I ventured into Chinatown and bought everything there. I think I was ripped off a couple of times but who's counting? Definitely not me who's bad at math despite what the stereotype of my ethnicity promises. Came back to the apartment by two and I was cooking until people showed up after eight. One of the most amazing dishes I fixed on the fly was the chardonnay potato curry (the wine was mixed in last minute as an "experiment"). Absolutely heavenly. And who knew fixing Tom Kha soup in a crock pot for three hours would make the world of a difference? Guests who arrived included Jason Schafer, Shannon Kelley, and our favorite new pal Laura McDonald from Carmichael Films. Jessica and Geoffroy also invited some of their friends, and like David's description, the evening was a highly memorable international rendezvous. I don't recall having one single boring conversation with anyone, and that's saying a lot. I suddenly realized why I enjoyed cooking this much. It's a lot like filmmaking really. I felt in touch with humanity.

4.23 (Saturday) - The party ended at around 3AM. I had to catch a bus back to Philly in a couple of hours, so I decided to stay up. David walked me to the bus station at dawn (speaking of, my ass would be so lost in the city without him) and I unwillingly boarded with an emotional high still lingering from the night before. Back in Dallas by 4PM and had to lie down for an hour or so before dinner. I didn't wake up until Sunday morning at 9AM.

About to catch a flight to the City of Brotherly Love, which calls for a quick reminder, cause I know we have tons of fans out there. Or not.

Screening info is here. Prove us wrong. Here's an assurance.

Kasia gave birth to a healthy seven-pound girl. I held her for the first time last night and I felt all gooey inside. Looks like my babysitting days are getting close.

A hearty happy to Nick. Please bombard him with your warmest and wettest wishes.

Kasia should be delivering her first any minute now (or as I bluntly said to her a month ago: your pussy will explode).

And what are birthdays without laughter?

While attempting to reword the description of an embroidered boudoir pillow at the dayjob, a voice whispered in the back of my head:

Quit now.

What?

Quit now. Set yourself free.

I can't. Got bills to pay. Got shit I don't need to buy.

Not your job, silly. Your dream. Filmmaking. Quit now.

For a minute, I imagined what a relief the idea was. The voice was more than happy to chirp along:

No more scripts. No more rewrites. No more Goggling for negative reviews that you tell yourself not to take personally but you will anyway. No more wondering if money's ever gonna come through. No more getting into debt. No more query letters. No more rejections. No more wondering if when people don't respond, it means fuck off or be persistent. No more plans for futur e films. No more going up to strangers in noisy bars and introducing yourself. No more of this selling yourself bullshit. No more festival submissions. No more waiting to be accepted.

No more, no more!

You're not just doing yourself a favor. It's for your friends, your peers, all the other filmmakers. One less talent in the market. One less film to make. One more chance for everyone else.

Be angelic for once. Sacrifice yourself like Christ did.

You can see watch films. You can still be supportive when people around you do it. You can still say shit like, "Yes, you'll make it! Keep up the great work!" Most of all, you can now truly enjoy manipulative Hollywood entertainment without a sense of indie guilt.

I simply responded by reaching for a yellow Post-it, uncapped a Sharpie and wrote:

Hang in there.

It's now hanging on the side of my monitor.

It must be the boudoir pillow. I wished it was in front of me so I can punch it out and ripped it apart. Then I'll know what it's really made out of and describe it in graphic details.

~

I've been obsessing over the idea of having a proper budget for the past year, constantly chanting:

Quarter of a mil! That's the way to go!

The week after SXSW as I returned with a renewed sense of fuck 250K-let's-make-50K-DV-fi lms, I've slowly transformed into a telemarketer, always asking at every available opportunity:

Hey man, do you know anyone I can get 50K from?

You can so easily make 50K back!

I can make such a great film with 50K!

If I don't stop now, I'm gonna turn into one of those guys everyone makes a point to avoid. Eww, 50K's in the room y'all. I won't even give him 50 cents.

Sometime today when I stared at the picture of the boudoir pillow and the pricey silk sheets spread beneath it, I scratched my head and felt disgusted. More at myself than the marked-up retails. Me and my 50K price tag. I haven't even whored all the way yet but I already felt worn out.

Jerry said to me last week that I should stop thinking about it. The money. If it'll happen. If it'll all work out.

"It's like love, you know. It comes when you quit searching for it."

Maybe that's what the voice was really trying to say:

Not the dream, silly. The 50K.

~

Nick and I, in our own ways, had a blast at Ozone. It was a nice town with a laid-back Southern feel. So laid-back, only six people showed up at our first screening. And fifteen at our second. Ultimately, what made it all worthwhile was getting to know my fellow director better. Out of the three, I knew him the least. We drank, laughed, cracked stupid jokes, and most importantly, slept on the same bed without the slightest hint of homoeroticism.

"I didn't cuddle up to you last night, did I?" He asked the next morning.

"Yeah, you did. And you called me Kara."

~

At one of our gas stops, I grabbed a cup of coffee at the store and walked up to the cashier's. Then I saw him, standing by the soda machine, wondering if he should fill his plastic cup with Pepsi or Mountain Dew. It was Gabe, exactly the way I envisioned in "Pit Stop." The baseball cap. The Wranger's. The thick moustache. The blue eyes. The construction boots with dried mud sticking on its sides. I wanted to say hey mister, can I take your picture? But the check-out girl was giving me the evil eye. Like my Asian ass didn't belong there.

~

After our second screening in Ozone, James and David were celebrating for our very first award in College Station. Rumor has it that they were both surrounded by braless sorority girls.

~

It looks like our next projects, respectively, are David's "Drift", James' "Sid" and Nick's "Still Writing It As We Speak" (which involves a whistling hooker I must add, and from what he has described to me, sounds mighty interesting).

As for me, there's 'Pit Stop," which ideally should be my follow-up to "Happy Birthday." However, I can't, for the life of me, shoot "Pit" on DV. Not even HD. Only film can serve its narrative, unfortunately. Which brings me back to my obsession over 250K.

So there's "Ciao." Essentially, it's a gay "84 Charing Cross Road," a film I've always been fond of since I caught it on TV at the age of fourteen. Not as classy of course, and this involves an Italian and an American instead. Unlike Helene and Frank, Andrea and Jeff actually meet halfway into the film and eventually get it on. Well, not exactly. But they do dance with their tops off. I admit it sounds like the type of gay film I've sworn not to make: pretty boys living it up in the wonderful genre of romantic comedy. David, who initially was receptive to the first draft, gave a harsh but constructive criticism to my second. I needed that. A push to make it better. I questioned my intentions (this one will sell cause the Italian's hot!), then my bias towards the attractive characters. I couldn't help but feel like there's not enough of a content, as if cuteness alone would make up for the lack of substance. By now, I may be giving away the impression that "Ciao" is a fluff piece. It is to an extent, but I do strive for it to be something more. Over and over I remind myself my filmmaking motto: it needs to mean something.

In an example of life imitating art, I consulted with the person I loosely based Andrea on, Alessandro, who then presented me with a very insightful character analysis. Along with David's comments (and to an extent, his wonderful short film script submission to Berlin entitled "Red Notes on a Blue Film"), I was suddenly invigorated by all the possibilites introduced.

Another draft is on the way. Let's hope third one's the charm.