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Vignettes: Part Three
5. I’m eleven, and walking down the road with my mother, who pushes my new sister in a small carriage. ( . . . ) -
Vignettes: Part Two
3. I'm checking a guest in. It's 10:30 pm, two days ago. ( . . . ) -
Vignettes: Part One
1. John January is screaching like a baby rabbit, but what he's saying is, "Foul, muthafucka! That's a muthafuckin foul you big nigga bitch!" ( . . . ) -
Antique video library.
For those of you who have followed the immense amount of crap I post, you know well my interjections of video done in pastiche with odd music. I do these with extremely limited resources, on a very nice (but severely scarred) camera I bought eight years ago. I haven't really had the time to do one since I've settled in Los Angeles proper, but I' ( Read more... ) -
Polled Poetry: "Untitled"
Throw down your plaintive fingers ( Read more... ) -
A Christmas present!
PRINT BAD DRAW WRITE!
A new installment, sent from the wondrous Eldridge Hotel in Lawrence, Kansas to my e-mail this morning. It made me realize how sentimental I am ( Read more... ) -
HARSH TIMES: Ayer not as good as Edward Wood, Jr.
A dialogue from PHAEDRUS, as interpreted by screenwriter David Ayer[PHAEDRUS gesticulates to SOCRATES with a 40 oz. Seagrams in his clutches ( Read more... ) -
Terrible loglines for the Academy's consideration.
Synopsis: You'll have to read this as it comes; it isn't much here yet; L.A. is a wintry sprawl of growing disenchantment; politics are spun centrifugally to the extremes; gas power rules the land. The supercilious poet, Linus Carew, is upswept in an assassination plot that will transform the world. Is the heart the loneliest of hunters? (There ( Read more... )