So I've got too many scripts to cover, a review of the play comes out on Thursday and I have NO idea what it's going to say, no current prospects, a screenplay outline that's only half-done, numerous other projects, email weeks unanswered...
So the rumor going around was that Brokeback Mountain, the gay cowboy movie Ang Lee directed, starring Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhall, would be light on the sex, possibly nil. Another sad aching cowboy romance based on long lingering looks and things left unsaid.
But having just read the story upon which the movie is based, all I can say is, um, damn. Maybe the long lingering look is something you can get away with in Oliver Stone-directed period epics. But no way it'll work for this. No way.
And it is a lovely story, just like everyone said. I'm kinda looking forward to seeing what happens.
The teaser for Ron Howard's adaptation of The Da Vinci Code makes a big deal of the two triangles in the title. As someone who once suffered through that goddamn book, the significance is not, sadly, lost on me.
The great tragedy of Da Vinci, I feel, is that there are some interesting themes at the core, but the writing is so bad, the execution so bungled, and the characters so unbelievable that what could be a tight, compelling adventure instead collapses into a shapeless blob of "symbolic items of a symbological nature." But if you distilled the story, cut all the lectures, and made the characters into people who talk like humans, then you could maybe have something...
And then I remember that it's being written by Akiva Goldsman.
Akiva Goldsman makes my life so simple. My hate for him, so cleansing. My boycott of his scribed films, so economical.
Lamest thing I saw this weekend Nordic Walking. Seriously. It's walking. But with poles. Because apparently walking without poles doesn't look retarded enough.
You can take CLASSES on Nordic Walking, even. CLASSES. To learn how to walk. With poles.
The guys I saw Nordic Walking were wearing t-shirts that said "Ask me about Nordic Walking!" I wanted to ask them about Nordic Walking. With a slap to the face.
Snarkiest thing I saw this weekend A Livejournal conversation about my last Bookslut column (did I ever link to that here? hmmm), being snarky over the lack of direction found in my snark. Can't a girl just snark over bad teen movies adapted from Shakespeare? Alas.
Most cop-out-iest thing I saw this weekend What the hell, Fried Green Tomatoes? I mean, you're a movie about lesbians. Mary Stuart Masterson and Mary-Louise Parker are very clearly lesbians. And yet you twist it into "Oh, isn't having a best friend the greatest? Female friendship is fantastic!" It's not like I have some huge Lou/Stu fixation (the way certain other gentlemen apparently do, a fact discovered when I bitched about the lack of actual lesbian behavior in a movie about lesbians), but it's like not showing us the starships in Star Wars. This is why 1991 was lame -- you could finally make movie adaptations about lesbians, but you couldn't show them actually being lesbians. The Color Purple got itself neutered in the same fashion, come to think of it. There's a Bookslut column in this.
Awesomest thing I saw this weekend Unleashed may have ruined me for American non-Matrix kung fu, and I really don't care. Not only does the movie hold up remarkably well (I adore Luc Besson -- his scripts are never genius, but they're always solid fun) but damn oh damn. Jet Li as choreographed by Yuen Wo Ping makes violence beautiful. I can't believe I'd forgotten how good it could look. Too much of the bland knock-offs, I suppose. I may need to watch a whole bunch of early Jet Li kung fu very soon. I may need to raid Alison's collection. I may need to figure out a way to convince her that this is a good idea.
But other than that, a good weekend. Play opens next weekend. Dad comes into town for a few days. SMRT-TV is cooking with gas. And I try to write a screenplay about space in the space of a month, because why the hell not?
Search: Bebop This is how I find myself listening to the same four tracks from the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack, looped over and over again. Cowboy Bebop is not a show I have a huge amount of affection for, but man oh man the music -- a blend of Japanese pop and classical jazz/bebop -- is really quite lovely. All I have is the theme song, the closing song, and some random snippets. But it makes for good listening, and all I have to do is type BEBOP into my iTunes search and bliss out.
Self-caffeination Now that the job no longer provides me the caffeine, I am learning to make it myself. Specifically, I have mastered the art of the French press, which my roommate got me for Christmas. The French press is a genius device. I boil water, scoop in some grounds, leave alone for five minutes, et voila -- a cup of coffee! Overall, more convenient and cost-effective than my old Mr. Coffee, which is really quite fortunate because I broke the pot two weeks ago and new ones cost $20. I have other things to do with my $20.
Reader's block I'm currently reading Fortress of Solitude, and it's really very good. But while in the past I did most of my reading in bed, before dropping off to sleep, nowadays I climb into bed and the concept of reading something new is utterly bizarre. I keep turning to old favorites, children's books, anything I've read more than three times. Too mentally exhausted to process new ideas, I suppose.
But last night, I finally forced myself to start Chapter 5, and while I only made it a few pages before collapsing, I feel like I've broken that particular mental block. We'll see what happens tonight, though, after I climb into bed after running around all day, sated with ice cream and Alias. We'll see if I can muster up some smarts.
And that's all there really is to say about Kingdom of Heaven.
I'm watching last week's Revelations right now, and while at first I was finding it ridiculous that the death of Bill Pullman's daughter was 24-hour news worthy, in light of elliptical trainer revelations, it makes somewhat more sense. Not the show, of course. The show is still pointless. Even with John Rhys-Davies in a wheelchair. That'd normally be enough for me.
People keep asking me what I've been up to, how I'm spending my hours of leisure. Well, it's 1 AM and I think I've finally caught up with my email. Which is good, because I'll be away from the computer for at least six hours tomorrow and that's going to mean little good.
I get to have a nice lunch, though. That'll be nice.
Went to the library and got comics, books about SPACE, and books about the Apocalypse. Time to use some of the latter in an attempt to generate some apocalypse-y imagery. Never doubt the joys of writing a play about the Apocalypse.
Oh, god, shut up Mr. Satanist! I'm here for wacky supernatural stuff and Gimli on wheels. Everything else goes stale.
Things that go through my head when I happen to see cable news
In stream-of-consciousness form:
Oh, god. Are they seriously still talking about this? One man killing his daughter and her friend? Why are they putting the families of the victims through this? Why are they obsessing over such a small tragedy and dragging America into it as well? Do we need to feed off this grief? What do we possibly learn about the world after watching this?
Well, perhaps it's more of a cultural study. One family's tragedy as a reflection of the greater society's socioeconomic values. A chance for the viewer to gain a greater understanding of the legal system -- a live-action CSI, a suspenseful tale that takes weeks to delve into fully-
What the hell? It's on that channel, too? And they've got GRAPHICS? FANCY GRAPHICS about this guy killing his daughter and her friend? Why? WHY? ::THUNK::
Elliptical trainers and Fox News. A bad combination.
Part of this unemployed/freelance lifestyle that makes me absolutely loathe to give it up (for those keeping score at home -- I'm now without a job, covering screenplays for milk money, and looking for Bigger and Better Things that could, fingers crossed, be done in my pajamas) is the fact that I can go outside. In the sun. During the daytime. Almost whenever I want.
It's become a craving. An addiction. I find reasons to walk miles and miles, lazy footsteps carrying me forward, audiobooks playing on headphones, just loud enough to be heard over traffic. I sit outside on my balcony, which now has chairs, a rug, candles, a lamp and a table on it (before, it had some dying houseplants and a bucket full of dirt), scamming free wireless from my neighbor and writing coverage. This afternoon, I walked to a park with a second draft of a screenplay that needs to become a third draft, and I nearly fell asleep in the heat of the sun, lazy and content. I'm terrified of skin cancer and sunburn, but those concerns seem minimal these days. There is sun outside. So outside, I must go.
I do not often bring my laptop with me, when I go on these adventures. Which is why, dear reader, I've been lax here.
But hey, Wi-Fi and lingonberry-scented candles and this balcony could be my new office.
As most of my blog-oriented thoughts of late have been "damn, this experience would make a good blog post, and hey, this'd be an awesome title for said blog post" and then I've been too busy to actually write said blog post, I instead provide you with the titles and summaries of said blog posts, in the hopes that this will catch us all up. Condensed for your pleasure!
Underemployed So I'm not going back to Unnamed Sitcom next season, as my job will not exist. This is both sad and fine. It means that I will have the chance to try something new and potentially even more gratifying this year. It also means that I'll be stuck with crappy health insurance that I have to pay for myself. Alas.
So I'm currently in a weird lull, inspired in part by lack of activity on the potential new job front, inspired in part by Unnamed Screenplay Competition, which provides just enough work to pay my rent. I have time to sleep and cook food and exercise now, not to mention read books, pay my bills and do lots of writing. It's exciting stuff.
On the other hand, my DSL modem just died, my car registration is due, and food costs money. Damn.
Exercise accomplished on Sunday, May 2nd 2 mile round trip walk to gym 1.5 hour yoga class 45 minutes spent trying to break into my apartment with keys locked inside 1 two-block jog down street to friend's house to watch Family Guy premiere. 8 hours in armchair making SMRT happen.
My crappy thyroid So I don't win the Crappiest Thyroid in Social Circle competition, but that pesky hypoactive thyroid condition that's vaguely annoyed the lives of my mother, two of her sisters, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother has finally, totally out of the blue, surfaced in my genetics.
The thing is, I feel pretty healthy all the time. So I'm wondering what'll happen once I start taking the supplements I've been prescribed. Will I achieve a new height of physical being? Will I drop a couple of pounds? Will I become some sort of SUPERLIZ? One can only hope.
Superpowers I'd Like to Gain From My New Thyroid Condition The ability to catch up on my email while lost in REM sleep The abiltiy to plug Whedon-related SMRT-TV articles (which, honestly, comprise about 50% of our content) on Whedonesque.com. The ability to be as funny as, I dunno, Rita Rudner? (I'd aim higher, but it's not a very serious thyroid condition.)
My cup runneth over And that's all I want to say about the experience of taking my own urine sample.
Writer's Block Cure: [blank] in Space! It's a really fun game. I've gotten two new screenplay ideas from it. Both of which I really want to write.
I don't have the time to write a new screenplay right now. But whatever.