"Miss Rumphius" Audio/Visual Book!

I apologize for the sudden influx of video-related media (the written word has been put on the back burner for now, because why have words when you can have PICTURES!)

A few weeks ago, I recorded an audio book with Roman Chimienti for his company, The End Audio Productions. The accompanying video has finally been completed thanks to the swift editing skills of Jessica Rondash from Verbatim Studios. 

The book, Miss Rumphius, by Barbara Cooney, is a favorite of Roman's. If you're a frequent visitor, it's no mystery that books (especially those from my kinder days of yore) are my greatest obsession. I can still remember curling up to Cooney's Hattie and the Waves as a little girl. Obviously, I jumped at this opportunity, and I'm so glad I did.

But enough chatter - just sink into your best PJs and security blankie and cuddle your beloved stuffed counterpart as you have a look (or a listen, depending on your mood) to a childhood favorite.

And don't forget to visit The End Audio Productions for more audio books narrated by other great voice over artists. (Like how this sentence assumes I am one of them?)

Country Bandit Rides Again: Part 1 of 3

Let's skip all the "it's been awhile crap" and cut right to the chase.

Here is the 1st part of many excuses.

Created by me as an homage to the two weeks of absolute country bandit splendor that I experienced in May....you will hear much about it, to be sure.

And for kicks, check out the Country Bandit legacy (otherwise known as my travel blog) for reasons why I'm calling myself a country bandit.

Oscar, I'm Grouchy

I've explained it once, and I'll explain it again:

My bittersweet relationship with Oscar.

 

 

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FLASHBACK FRIDAY: The Films of 2010, and How I Got There

It occurred to me a few weeks ago, upon finally realizing the end of 2010 and the beginning of a new year, that I have watched a lot of films within 12 months.

As a former film student and production-seeking career girl (I can't really say I'm in film until my paycheck says so - advertising, I'm afraid, does not count), this should not be surprising. Nevertheless, it is.

My taste (and experience) in the art of watching films has transformed exponentially over the last few years of my life. Obviously, my NYU film courses were the first major transition from watching movies purely for entertainment to analysis of the film craft. I had always admired filmmaking from afar, thanks to my mother's long-standing awe of classic films and Simpsons parodies. And there were always the TV movies, childhood movies, and summer blockbusters that one fixates on amidst boring suburban life. These were always, for the most part, from one of the following categories:

• Classics Films before 1970 
• Oscar nominees 
• Movie Premieres on network television 
• Disney 
• Excuses to go to a movie theater 
• Action Flicks 
• Childhood Favorites

I had never seen an art house film (nor were they part of my regular vocabulary), and indie flicks had not yet assumed the norm. My parents and friends didn't know of any, so neither did I. And besides - I was content with my list, entertaining no other possibility for film other than the usual plot-driven, dramatic/comedy/action/thriller I had grown to love and aspired to make. Under no circumstances did this include horror films - why, it took me years just to sit down to watch Jurassic Park without peeing my pants.

Cue the harsh slap-in-the-face that is film school. Some fellow classmates didn't think I had the knowledge for it. Maybe I didn't - but wasn't that the point of learning?

It was humbling to see that the art of film was not so black and white, as it had seemed; there were some films that never made it to the Oscars, but were admirable nonetheless. There were short films that only showed at festivals, B films and C films, films done for art-sake and films done for the hell of it. Some "stories" focused on character development only, while others seemed to be about nothing at all. I finally got to watch some of the breakout and cult films of the first 14 years of my life that I was never privy to, simply because I wasn't considered mature enough to watch them at the time: films like Pulp Fiction, Goodfellas, and Clerks, which was shot less than 10 minutes from my house.

At this point, one can revel in the discovery of so many new realizations, or curse themselves for being the idiot who hadn't come about this knowledge earlier. I fell for the latter, mainly because I was 17, on my own, and full of fun emotional drama.

It's taken since that first year of college to really get the courage to dip my toes into the pool of films I dared not touch before. I have to thank my professors first, and my friends after, for introducing me to them, as I trembled, unworthy. A few of them worked at the old TLA Video on 8th Street before it closed down, and each had their own specialty of favorites within the film world. If I attempted to describe each of their tastes in three words, they would be:

MARK: Brooding, Foreign, Cannes

JAMES: Character, Epic, Journeys

JOSH: Cult, Offbeat, Horror

Though there were many instances of shock and awe throughout my education, one that stands out the most as something that stuck with me quite indefinitely was The Holy Mountain by Alejandro Jodorowsky.

 This is not the type of film I would have gone to on my own - I had never heard of either the director or the title, but apparently it was big enough to be shown at IFC at midnight frequently. They insisted I go, and it being my college years, why the hell not? However, I was not ready for the symbolic imagery barrage with each chanting, triangle-trilled, vibrational-pulsed moment. Quite frankly, it was the strangest film I had ever seen, but I could not look away. And I could not stop thinking about it afterward. I've seen it three times since then, and have even written an entire thesis paper on its subject of religious symbolism. That's more intellectual fodder than Forrest Gump could ever provide.

Watching "Daisies" in Prague had a similar effect; I knew it must be laden with meaning; but even aside from that it was a rhythmic poem that replayed in my mind. And so since then, many fascinating films have crossed my eyes and riddled my eardrums - even, I must admit, horror films. Ryan has done a good job of forcing me to sit through them, and I can't say that I'm not grateful (though I could do without the occasional shocking scare that streaks my hair grey and inflicts possible stomach ulcers.)

The point in all of this, of course, being that traveling, meeting others and experiencing life as a more mature (but let's not get carried away), open-minded individual has given me the chance to really appreciate a film on a deeper level.

That said, I'd still take Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles any day. You can't become too pretentious, you know.

OH, THE FILMS I HAVE WATCHED: 2010

• Labyrinth, Jim Henson (1986) 
• Made in the USA, Jean-Luc Godard (1966) 
• The Short Films of Al Jarnow, Al Jarnow (2010)
• Shutter Island, Martin Scorcese (2010) 
• Suburban Commando, Burt Kennedy (1991)
• District 9, Neil Blomkamp (2009)
• Kamikaze GirlsTetsuya Nakashima (2004) 
• Dolls, Stuart Gordon (1987)
• Day of the Dead, Steve Miner (2008)
• Mr. Booogedy, Oz Scott (1986)
• Hot Tub Time Machine, Steve Pink (2010)
• Iron Man 2, Jon Favreau (2010) 
• Metropolis, Fritz Lang (1927)
• Best Worst Movie: Troll 2, Michael Stephenson (2009)
• Possessed ["Bool-sin-ji-ok"], Lee Yong-ju (2009)
• Tetsuo: The Bullet Man, Shinya Tsukamoto (2009) 
• Brazil, Terry Gilliam (1985)
• The Tenant, Roman Polanksi (1976)
• Diva, Jean-Jacques Beineix (1981)
• Performance, Donald Cammell & Nicolas Roeg (1970)
• Daisies, Vera Chytilová (1966) 
• The Mist, Frank Darabont (2007) 
• Matthew Hopkins: Witchfinder General, Michael Reeves (1968) 
• A Town Called Panic, Stéphane Aubier & Vincent Patar (2009) 
• The Naked Kiss, Samuel Fuller (1964) 
• The Fearless Vampire Killers, Roman Polanski (1967)
• Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, Edgar Wright (2010) 
• It Is Fine! Everything Is Fine!, David Brothers & Crispin Glover (2007)
• I Sell the Dead, Glenn McQuaid (2008)
• Simon: King of the Witches, Bruce Kessler (1971)
• The Skull, Freddie Francis (1975) 
• Enter the Void, Gaspar Noé (2009) 
• The Social Network, David Fincher (2010)
• The Gate, Tibor Takács (1987)
• [REC], Jaume Balagueró & Paco Plaza (2007)
• The Red Shoes, Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger (1948)
• Polyester, John Waters (1981)
• Solaris, Andrey Tarkovskiy (1972) 
• Nosferatu the Vampyre, Werner Herzog (1979)
• Apocalypse Now, Francis Ford Coppola (1979)
• Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, David Lynch (1992)
• The Kingdom ["Riget"], Lars von Trier (TV Series - 1994)
• The Road, John Hillcoat (2009)
• Paris, Texas, Wim Wenders (1984)
• Days of Heaven, Terrence Malick (1978)
• The Exploding Girl, Bradley Rust Grey (2009)
• Four Flies On Grey Velvet, Dario Argento (1971)
• Krull, Peter Yates (1983)
• Summer Wars, Mamoru Hosoda (2009)
• Black Swan, Darren Aronofsky (2010)
• Fritz the Cat, Ralph Bakshi (1972)
• Tentacles, Ovidio G. Assonitis (1977)
• Heavy Metal, Gerald Potterton (1981)
• Innerspace, Joe Dante (1987)

Post-Production Update on Short Film

  Check out the official site of my short film, "Cereal for Dinner" 

for the latest news on sound design, 

  PLUS a sneak peek at the theme music!

‽

Iz Be Famous!

Ok, not really. But I got you there for a second, didn't I?

Check out my film blog, Got Film? 

My voice over is on a Pillsbury cinematic commercial.

Cinematic = 

Creepy Sim people in a 3D world trying to sell stuff to test audiences by glorifying products. 

If you've ever wondered what I do well....I produce that shit.

So watch it, listen to my super-cute advertising voice, and go buy some fucking Pillsbury already!

‽

Mechanical Animals

Check out these great new animated short films

on my film blog, Got Film?

Rats. Fish. Cougars. Cars.

...wait, what? 

‽

Hungarian Films Are Fun!

New review for Taxidermia up 

on my film blog, Got Film?

Read it.

Then you'll understand why it's so fun.

 

‽

The Zortians Are Coming....

Well this just makes my little heart go pitter-patter.

I got the urge today to once again Google the word "Zort" (surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, this is an ongoing hobby of mine), hoping in silent desperation that there was indeed another little nerd child out there who was as enthralled with the world of "Ed Emberley's Big Green Drawing" book as I, and was painstakingly uploading their myriad of childhood sketches of the little one-eyed darlings in hopes of reaching me on the other side of the interwebs - like a Google message in a bottle.

(For those of you not versed in the world of Zort, please refer to my previous zortian ramblings.)

The back cover of the best [drawing] book ever.

Usually, I have no such luck. I find only my own images, which tends to make me somewhat depressed about the state of my almost 25 year old life. However, today: breakthrough!

I am happy to say that after many years of looking, I have found another work of zortian perfection:

Courtesy of Joe Kuth @Red Panda Comics

This adorable piece of imagination is by fellow blogger, talented artist, and obviously awesome dude, Joe Kuth. I can't tell you how excited I was to find this. Actually, I'm telling you right now, though I shouldn't since it's slightly embarrassing: I may have peed a little.

The best part of this discovery is that I no longer have to hide my blushing face as I fawn over little green men with three legs - there are others out there who share in my appreciation of Ed Emberley and his wonderful world. (Read an interview with Kuth here; you'll see what I mean.)

BUT WAIT - (that's right, you know the rest....)

....MORE EXCITEMENT!
Joe, in part with his blog, has put together a tribute book to Mr. Ed Ember' himself, consisting of artwork drawn by other fans around the country!

Where the fuck was I when this was happening?!

Thankfully, my disappointment at not getting the chance to be included in this book was overshadowed by yet another amazing discovery (I'm running out of ways to emphasize my text):

Yes, it's true. There is a documentary. About Ed Emberley. Coming. Soon.

Does this mean that Zortians might make an appearance as well? Possibly even......animated?

Only time will tell......and I will await, ever anxiously....

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In Which Some Cool Comics, the Black Swan & Matt Groening Serve As a Mirror Inward

I like to sometimes to write about my weekend activities, in case you think I don't get out enough. Rest assured, I do try to make the most out of my days off. At least the first day - then, as is the case with this Sunday, twelve hours are set aside for delicious sleep.

So whether you want to hear it or not (forget the fact that it's easy enough to click off this page), I will happily recall my weekend experiences, in a neat listed form:

Black Swan
I was anxious to see this, and that anxiety followed me throughout it's viewing and into my dreams. As with Aranovsky's film "Requiem for a Dream," I would impart the following advice to any 1st time viewer: prepare to be unnerved.

And I was. I won't go into too much detail because a.) I trust you aren't reading this blog for a movie review (and if you are, I apologize, though it's a very good idea, come to think of it....), and b.) giving it away would be awfully rude.


I will say this: Winona Ryder is exquisitely scary, the music of "Swan Lake" is as haunting as the jaunty hand-held choreography, and the entire experience of watching this movie will make make your insides feel as dark and hollow as the cheekbones of a ballerina.
Hence, good stuff.

Brooklyn Comics & Graphics Festival
Conveniently located down the street from our apartment, the festival proved to be the perfect way to spend our Saturday (and our money). Crowded, yes; but filled to the brim with some awesome comic artists, which I feel compelled to share with you all, as I spent the entirety of last night adding their blogs to my Google reader and subsequently goggling at their art. And, as a bonus, may I remind you that they are all lovely ladies, which gives this sort of lovely lady hope.

• Junko Mizuno - bought a signed copy (!) of her first manga (now out of print), "Cinderella." Cute and deadly are the words that best describe her style.

• Jennifer Tong - alas, I could not bring myself to shell out the $50 for her beautiful neon lemonade silkscreens, but luckily I was able to see all her fruitallucinations on her site. (Yeah, that's right, I shoved that pun right in your face.)

 

• Marian Churchland - though she wasn't at the festival, I felt I had to bring her up in the company of my new fave female comickers. The main squeeze of Brandon Graham (also a great artist, and the brain behind "King City"), Marian lives in Canada and brings the cuteness as she she blogs about pie and jackets. I snagged a copy of "ELEPHANTMEN: Damaged Goods" last time I was at Bergen Street Comics. Good investment!

Fittingly, Marian's cover for Brandon's "King City."

• Aidan Koch - I passed by her table quickly, trying to keep myself from nabbing a copy of "The Whale," in all its water-colored poetic glory. Later on I find out it was actually the artist herself sitting quietly there, trying to sell her first comic ever. Now I really wished I'd bought it.

 

• Jungyeon Roh - again with the expensive silkscreens! So wonderful and yet so out of reach....I really wish she had been selling her book. I understand the reasoning for the price however; >sigh< if I only I were rich enough to buy art instead of getting angry at myself for not creating it.

 

• Lisa Hanawalt - I can't take complete credit for this find; for Ryan, it was love at first sight with the "Hats" sketch. I soon followed after he brought home #1 and 2 of her "I Want You" series. Not many women can get away with psycho sexual animals and subtle fart jokes...but Lisa can.  

Click to enlarge (believe me, it's worth it to see the Irritable Bowel Syndrome hat

Matt Groening
This is what really made the weekend - after 3 hours of festival goodness, Ryan and I make our way to the entrance. And who is standing at the Ad House Books booth, bag full of goodies, but the creator of "The Simpsons" himself, the first artist I ever learned the name of at the tender age of 7 - in short my hero - Matt Groening. Ryan urges me on, and I sheepishly creep up behind the unsuspecting victim guy and introduce myself. (Finally, knowing the real pronunciation of his name pays off!)

As is the case with most celebrity/hero sightings, I babble on about loving his work and seem to forget my confidence. Out pours my undying devotion for "The Simpsons" over the course of my lifetime (which coincided with the shows existence as well.) He chuckled at the image of me with a Bart doll in the crib, and I thanked him for bringing years of humorous dinner time TV to my family.

You'll be happy to know that Mr. Groening is a perfect gentleman and all-around nice guy, who seems genuinely pleased with meeting fans; and thank goodness, as dealing with a motor mouth like me can prove to be difficult. He even asked me what I did, after I professed that my love of film mainly stemmed from his Simpsons parodies. What proceeded was my usual explanation of "Well, I'm a producer...for test commercials, but that's not what I want to do.....I actually went to school for film directing and writing, and I also did animation, but I had to ultimately choose one, and I'm still paying it all off..." yada yada. The poor man.

And then the most insightful thing came out of his mouth: "Well, what do you want to do?"

Apart from being completely flabbergasted at his wanting to know in the first place, I also had to stop and think. Why would he ask me that question? And why was this happening today, of all days, at the comics festival of all places? Was there perhaps something serendipitous about this particular moment?

All I can say is that ever since he asked me, I've been wondering about the same question myself.

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FLASHBACK FRIDAY: "Unkosher", the Trailer

Well....2006 is not that far back of a "flashback", so I may be cheating here a little. But I certainly have grown over the past 4 years, so I deem it fair.

Here it is, a trailer based on the self-documentary, the catalyst from which this very blog was formed....

"UnKosher," 2006
Director, Writer & Editor
Documentary, NYU Undergraduate Film

*This has also just been updated on my website, along with all my other film works. So, you know, if you want to continue to hear me toot my own horn, be my guest.

RACSO is OSCAR Spelled Backwards

Last night was the 2nd annual Oscar party at Brian's place! (Brian has surround sound speakers, a Nintendo Wii, Super NES, hoards of food provided by his [Jewish] mother , and a wide screen TV with digital cable - in other words, opposite of my apartment. Hence, his domain is almost always the designated party location.)

Even though I lost the Oscar pool, we all had a great time getting all Mystery Science Theater on that shit. While my attitude towards the Oscars certainly has changed, as I've explained before, there were still many laughs to be had.

Here's a list of things you may have missed during the Oscars in between chip-dips:

• George Clooney could often be seen staring down Alec Baldwin with the evil eye, making odd faces for the annoying camera that seemed to show or humorously bobbing his head to the epic orchestral music. Extra points for opting towards a less serious and more goofball Oscar attitude.

• Anyone notice Samuel L. Jackson's little eye roll after Mo'nique's speech? Yeah, he knows. Girl has attitude. Even Sam Jack's like, "Damn woman."

• Music by Prudence producer pulls a Kanye. Here's why.

• I was never really a horror movie fan, but after being Ryan's main squeeze (and he is the horror master), I should be knowledgeable about these things at least by association. So, yeah that horror reel was pretty bad. If it can't make me flinch it must have failed.

• Is it just me, or does T-Bone Burnett look EXACTLY like James Cameron, circa 10 years ago? We were all convinced he was switching identities back and forth between commercial breaks to covet the Oscar. Why else would he be wearing sunglasses...eh? eh?

• Gaborney Sibide's mom joins her in the audience. This is blowing my mind, considering I pass by her every day in the subway station as she sings to Michael Jackson's greatest hits!

• There is a freakish looking man sitting behind Helen Mirren. In Ryan's words, "it looks like Jerry O'Connell's face exploded."

• I honestly don't understand how you can dance to orchestral soundtrack music. Nor do I understand how break-dancing and the robot are justifiable in this instance. I'd rather sit through Randy Newman singing two songs then watch this crap. Suddenly, we all collectively begin to imagine how Randy Newman would sing a narrative to the dancing action, sort of like this.

For a slightly more mature interpretation of Oscar night, visit my film blog.

Delusions of Grandeur

In March 2008, I visited Los Angeles for the first time to interview people for an A&E Biography on Winona Ryder. I was extremely excited. I'd never been to the West Coast, and I was going to finally see the legendary Hollywood! The Film Frontier! City of Dreams! I am not a stranger to naivety, but I was perplexed by what I actually found. The city was glum, overcast and rainy, with a chill in the air, which certainly didn't help. Driving around, it felt like a ghost town: no one was out walking, the buildings boxy and dull. The colors were bright but seemed muted by loneliness, as if we were making our way through a vast, abandoned movie set.

The Kodak theater had already begun to set up for the Oscar ceremony. Tents and red carpet lined the street. But there was no excitement, no kinetic energy, no passion. I felt as if I was playing a game, that this wasn't really Hollywood, we were just pretending it was. I could walk up to the and push over building facade like a piece of cardboard. And in my eyes, that's all that Hollywood seemed to be: a dying illusion.

***

Where is everybody?

I have taken a bite out of the Oscar noms [nom noms].

Normally I would be very excited about the Oscars, but over the years, my anticipation has dwindled substantially. Like every rare-yet-memorable tradition (Christmas, birthdays, lunch at McDonald's), the Oscars were a welcomed treat in my family. At least, for my mom and I, it was our Super Bowl. It was the only time of the year that....

a.) we were allowed to stay up until 2am
b.) total control of the remote was relinquished to us from dad (and thus no skipping through commercials!)
c.) we could eat entire cans of pringles and make cheese nachos, whilst on the couch, whilst in pajamas...

..and lastly, that I could immerse myself in the glitz and wonder of Hollywood. Hilarious things happened at the Oscars, things that (before the internet world) you simply couldn't miss seeing firsthand. Billy Crystal as Luke Skywalker! Whoopi as the Queen of England! Roberto Benigni jumps over chairs to accept Oscar!

By age 9 I was convinced that I could become history's youngest Oscar host. I would arrive in one of our crappy Stromberg fixer uppers on wheels, wearing an exclusive TJ Maxx ensemble. James Earl Jones would come out with a bunch of yellow pages to prop me up high enough for all to see. (Ah, a child's humor.)

But it wasn't just the hype and the entertainment value of the Oscars that left a kid like me in awe. I just loved movies. My parents had brought me up on a healthy diet of Bugs Bunny & The Twilight Zone, cartoons like Animaniacs & The Simpsons, which parodied some of the greatest films ever made. Even though I hadn't seen most of these classics, I already knew them so well somehow. Granted, I had a long way to go. But Spielberg, Burton, Lucas and Orson Welles were common vocabulary during my childhood . I worshiped them. They did what I longed to do; write amazing stories, envision them onscreen, and convey that vision to the world.

However, what was hidden to me were the politics of the whole biz. The fact that this was a film "industry", and that not everything was as magical and wondrous as it appeared. Cynical as it may sound, I'm sure everyone can agree that money runs the show. And while many are often rewarded for creativity and filmmaking prowess by the Academy, there always seems to be a hidden agenda as well. I knew about Spielberg and Burton for a reason. And there were many other movies, other directors, other writers, completely other realms of film that I had not even begun to explore.

Now that I'm older (though not exactly wiser), and have attended a film school divided amongst the pretentious (who think that the Oscars are simply a joke, a dog-and-pony show for manufacturings of the industry mill), the enthusiasts (for which Spielberg, Scorsese and all epic filmmakers reign), and those who are in-between/uncertain/tolerant.

I'm not sure what category I fell into, since all of these new realizations scared the shit out of my naive mind. I just wanted to make movies...or so I thought. What did becoming a filmmaker mean?! Would I have to sell out? Or would I have to give up my love for those movies that were now deemed "cliche"? I was afraid that I would never be able to honestly like a film again. I would be labeled! classified! ridiculed!

As a child, I thought everyone equally respected movies; all movies. I thought celebrities were figures of prominence, success. I believed that the union of moving image and music and performance was an art form - was a superior art form - that when experienced could evoke joy, resolve conflict, bring people together, move them to tears. I wanted to be a part of that, share in that moment of creation and be responsible for changing people's view of the world.

Now, I find myself confronted by a big brick wall. On the other side, a machine that is fueled by money, fame and thousand of egos. How can one scale this wall? And once you do, how can you be sure that you're doing it not out of a delusional hunger for fame and acceptance, but from the sincere passion to create something of meaning?

Weekend Enlightenments (or "It's About Damn Time Ya Blogged!")

Lots of things happened this weekend. And since I'm too far behind on my blog in general, (and I very much enjoy lists) I will quickly run through the highlights, in no particular order, and possibly provide an explanation when I deem it necessary:

∆ Amazing Mexican food at Taco Chulo in Williamsburg
Let it be known that I am not a taco fan: at least not a taco that has anything more than the stapled meat, cheese and tortilla ala powdered flavoring sauce. But my steak quesadilla combo, with Chihuahua cheese & onions ($14) came with an amazingly spicy tortilla soup (better than chicken noodle!) and a sweet, tomato salsa (I don't even like tomatoes!)
Of course, the Mexican hot chocolate aperitif won me over from the very start.

∆ The realization of two new great memoir title ideas:
- "Sorry for My Greasy Napkin"
- "I Opened My Mouth and My Teeth Got Cold"

∆ Pretty sure the movie "The Happening" is tongue-in-cheek.
I know Mark Walberg is a bad actor....but here is no way that he could be THAT bad without some purpose. (Either I over- or under-estimate his potential.) Those fishbowl perspective shots, the ridiculousness of the story, and the hilarity of the dialogue are very telling of an albeit forced parody, not just a "horrible movie."
Did that make it more more enjoyable, and hence good? Well I did laugh my ass off. (C'mon, that crazy woman at the end had so many good one liners, ie; "Why are you eyeing my lemon drink?").
I just wonder if Shyamalan really meant to pull our leg.

∆ NES Games had awesome music.
The game "NARC" let's you blow up drug dealers, limbs flying everywhere, whilst you listen to this awesome music. Other than that, I still maintain that after 15 minutes, I lose all interesting in playing any video game.

∆ John Goodman was in "C.H.U.D." ('84)!
(Presumed eaten by cannibalistic humanoid underground dwellers on Kenmare & Lafayette, which still has the same small diner marquee, now a Mexican food hotspot.) Daniel Stern and John Heard also acted alongside eachother, then were reunited in Home Alone. Great film to see the grimy evidence of SOHO before its fashion gentrification - I feel like this should be a double feature alongside Street Trash.
Another little nipplet of knowledge: (you'll understand my shitty pun in a second...) On the DVD Extras menu, click on the flashing cursors over the creature's eyes and you'll get to see the shower scene in all its topless glory. Don't judge; everyone enjoys boobs.

∆ Ft. Greene has KICK ASS apartments!
Slanted roofs! Turrets! Towers! Bay windows!
Williamsburg has lots of condos.......with no one in them.

∆ Something in the world of Chat 'n' Chew has cha-changed....
Their fries are no longer seasoned. They serve brunch (or did they always? I never do get outdoors by 12pm), and they have a new dessert fridge...not that I'm complaining that they have more room for cake. And the mac 'n' cheese is still delectable and gut-busting.
What will I miss most? The cute 50's-ish, retro diner paraphernalia decor. No more decrepit tin Coca-Cola signs or vintage toasters...where have they gone?! And more importantly, where can I buy them?

∆ John Carpenter's student film "Dark Star" is sort of boring.
Funny? Sometimes. The giant beach ball alien was the best part, but alas, deflated early on.
However, I bet as a student film it was pretty awesome, considering the special effects used to recreate the 2001-esque setting.

∆ They may have changed Domino's pizza sauce, but their cheesy bread still rocks.
And in case you're wondering this is the same day of the mac 'n' cheese. Hence, my weekend cheesy-carb diet.

∆ Isabella Rossellini is in "Death Becomes Her." And she is HOT.
Something I probably didn't quite get at age 10 while watching it on Channel 11's Sunday Night Movie.

∆ After cleaning my closet out for the first time in 5 years, I was able to stuff 6 large shopping bags full of unwanted/never worn/worn out/shrunken clothing away from my wardrobe forever.
Beacon's Closet credit price: $12.50.

>sigh<

Curious Events @ "Limits of Control"

Yesterday, Ryan and I, two aspiring filmmakers with only a dream in their pockets (the rest was just lint and old buttons) had a chance glimpse into the crazy, exciting world of Jim Jarmusch, and the people around him. Here are just some of the highlights from that night (more about the premier on my film blog):

Jim Jarmusch....

• Walking down Houston with an entourage of people, including Ryan and I.

Hanging out with Bill Murray....

• Who decided to wear a red visor and criss-cross striped pajama pants to the swanky Shang after-party.....apparently the hair part of the visor...?
  
• He asks if Ryan and I are friends. We say we are dating. He looks at him, then at me. Mr. Murray, as he leans in: "You must be an animal!"
• 
• Some Tribeca girl who doesn't have a clue switches on her itty-bitty recorder and starts asking great questions like ,"What did it feel like to wear a tupee? Have you ever worn one before? Why was there an American flag pin on your suit?" He patronizes, but kindly, in his Murray way. At one point, he pretends to smack her in the ass, good-naturedly.
• I say "So Jim says you didn't improvise the scene in the movie at all." He says, "Improvising is really just when you forget your lines."
• 
  
• Ryan talks to Bill about his new zombie movie. He also mentions that this party is "atypical...I don't even know what street I'm on right now."

Tilda Swinton.....

• Hugs Bill Murray. They chat. We stand in awe.
  

Gael Garcia Bernal....

• Yes, he is still just as good looking in person.
• He and his girlfriend are probably the cutest couple ever.
  

Paz de la Huerta.....

• Meows at Jim Jarmusch to get his attention when I finally get to talk to him. Strangely cute.
  

Amos Poe.......

• "I knew [Paz] before she had an ass!"
• "You're a Jewish Italian," among other Jew-ish jokes about me.

Drinks.....

• Champagne (in a mini bottle!)
• Vodka and Coke
• Another Vodka and Coke
• Vodka and Red Bull (BLEHH, but it didn't matter at that point)

Food.....

• Curry Puff (what was in that shit?)
• Jerk Chicken
• Artichoke Salad
• Fried Rice
• Homeade Cole Slaw
• Shrimp Puff (wanted more! where shrimp puff man go?)
• Mini Cookies and Muffins!
  

Sadly, I didn't want to be "THAT GIRL" who took photos all night, so I just soaked it in with my mind. I think it's gonna be hard to forget this one though.

It's Been Awhile.....(oh yeah, and so my teeth...)

I guess there's no other real excuse for writing in this thing, other than the fact that I was:
a.) lazy
b.) busy
c.) unnerved
...whichever one of those you'd like to believe....(perhaps all of the above-it's feasible.)

I can't tell you how many times I tried writing in this thing, then wound up spending hours choosing a better design template to make it look better, only to decide after all that trouble that what I was hoping to write wasn't so great anyway (this being the end-all of most writers I suppose.)

But anywho, as you can see, I've finally broken through and decided to take a chance with this new "blog," since actually writing with a pen has become such a daunting and sacred act that can no longer be bothered by my silly thoughts. And as the tooth above illustrates, there's always a crack up in the regimented population line, so I might as well embrace the fact that it may very well be me.

Speaking of teeth, I just lost four. Finally got my wisdom tooth surgery out of the way, and those annoying impactors out of the way, too. I was waiting to get those darned things out all December, but then I was befallen with three weeks of sinusitis, missed the Stromberg Family Xmas Party and the Launch Bowling Event, traveled to Ohio for the holidays, and then went back to NJ to see how things have been rapidly changing without me ever knowing what hit me. All in that order.

I have never had surgery before. I was a little worried going in since I chose to go under and wasn't sure that would be like. Or if I would die. I had nothing to eat for the 24 hours before then since I have no knowledge of surgery prep, except for the small chance that if you DID happen to eat beforehand you can choke to death on your own vomit. Food wasn't worth the risk.

Actually I am unable to eat anything resembling a balanced diet for another week until I heal. Never have I craved donuts and dreamed of cheeseburgers with such fervor. There are gaping holes in my mouth and jaw pain that can only be cured by copious amounts of narcotics.

Basically, if you look at it subjectively, I spent the last five days getting high at home by myself. A Vicodin every 6 hours kept me pretty much conked out most of the afternoon and nights, with some random groggy moments in which I would wake up and feel my way to the kitchen for a nice spoonful of Gerber Banana Baby Food.

The dreams I had while intoxicated were probably the most lucid and epic in awhile. I normally have a habit of dreaming crazily, but the new job and the long hours tend to limit by memory. But oh did I remember these. The strangest thing of all being that they seemed to carry a similar theme of futuristic 80's films. I was convinced at the time (since it's easy to assume things are true while high) that these were films that did in fact exist in reality. Maybe someone could shed some light on my belief:

"Student Films"
Ever have a dream that at the time seems like a great idea for a movie, and then on second though hours later you realize how stupid that idea was? Well, this is one of those instances.

The dream started with me having one of the nostalgic, super-8-like moments of remembering an instance in your childhood. I was riding a bike and mom was playing with me outside. We were racing through a forest of tall trees, and as they were going by I could see my mom slicing through the air with a sharp object as if the air itself were made of plastic panes.

It was such a happy moment, and at the time seemed to make so much sense and deliver so much emotion, that the next scene seemed brilliant in juxtaposition: towards the end of the film, in a moment of sadness, I (or the character) would be walking through this forest in the rain, thwacking against the panes of plastic morosely.

It seemed so poignant at the time I dreamt it, and I was convinced that I should make it into an actual film; upon closer examination, I have no idea what the hell I was thinking.

"80's Future Montage"
These dreams literally shot out one after another from the neurons going vicodin-crazy in my brain, so bear with me.

I've just finished dreaming of being in an all-girl kick-ball/hip-hop dancing league when I am transported to a space-age looking hallway. I feel myself forced to walk towards another doorway, where there is a large hangar on the ground open to space, and a robot that shoots at me. I run back the other way, only to be shot dead. But I'm not dead. Another one of my "Rollie-Pollie-Ollie"-esque (or Betty Spaghetti for the older folk) companions steps on me and I am now a part of her body.

We walk into another world which seems like a large conveyor belt enclosed in a giant plastic bubble with other Playskool looking robots going 'round. Then they start mouthing "That's What She Said," only to find that this enables them to mutate and multiply. Suddenly, a light bulb goes on in my sleeping brain and I have realized that this is related to a popular science fiction movie. The DVD screen pops on in front of me and lists three popular 80s future classics, all of which I can't remember now.

Then I am in another world where cars from the 50s float above me in a picturesque setting. There is a small earthquake and a gale force wind, and the cars start to coagulate like the insides of a lava lamp. A Michael J. Fox looking kid meets a genetically engineered girl in pink metal, and they go off together for an adventure. They approach what seems to be a race track, where there is already a small, blue hollow tunnel running its length for a "male" to enter and take a ride. The girl robot twists and pulls the metal piping and makes another pink one for her, and they both enter on their backs as if on a water ride. When they are "launched," there is a plethora of lights and then a black background where the history of the world begins to play in neon before their eyes. I got to the part where they explain who the Egyptian god "Ra" was, and figured I could watch this movie later.

Snap to another dream in which a man impregnates a girl by giving her a necklace resembling a blossom. It turned into an apocalyptic drama with pastry sweets and imagery that looked straight out of a dirty watercolor comic.

* * *

That's as far as I'll go with these descriptions; the more I remember, the less sense it makes, even to me. But you get the idea.

So, while the pain of my teeth (or lack thereof) has subsided, I am still awaiting a normal diet, and thus a normal lifestyle once again. I really wanted some Spaghettios tonight, but every place I went had Chef Boyardee. I'm sorry, but that stuff is just gross. I know I'm angering my Italian ancestors by pledging allegiance to Franco American, but there is no other canned meatball worthy of my praise.

And so, perhaps this explains some of what has been happening over the last month or two. I am hoping that this will make post more often, as this post was hella long and will most likely not be read thoroughly. If you have gotten this far, I commend you.

Please, come again.

.....that's what she said.