Tuesday, March 24, 2009

99 Posts and chick ain't one.


Sorry I bitched out from using the word "bitch" in the title. Regardless, this is my 99th post.

I want to buy a Misfits shirt with the skull. You know the shirt? White skull on a black background. But, I called Jake, my style advisor, and he advised against it. He said I would look like a teenage girl.

My argument is this: the shirt has finally surpassed the lowest of the low on the cool spectrum and is once again back on top. Every teenage girl who ever listened to, "Die Die My Darling" bought the shirt two years ago. Now, the shirt lies in their closet, next to a pile of Fall Out Boy shirts and choker necklaces. The shirt waits for its resurrection, ready to rest on the back of only the coolest of the cool - me. I mean, I would buy a fresh shirt, but you get what I'm saying.

I have always liked black t-shirts with white writing. And I like The Misfits. At least, I liked The Misfits. And I'm ready to rep them. Or, is it too soon? What do you think?

One problem. I probably don't have enough money to buy the shirt. Bummer.



"And as the elevator descends, passing the second floor, and the first floor, going even farther down, I realize that the money doesn't matter. That all that does is that I want to see the worst."
--Clay

This is what a recession looks like.

The sandwich looks mostly inedible, with orange house sauce oozing out the side and onto the plate. I look up at her from my half-eaten chicken sandwich. I should have ordered the Cobb salad.

"It's the same way in Ireland, though," she says. I stare at her rounded forehead and nod. I am bored. My gaze returns to my lunch plate and I move a fry into the house sauce with my left hand.

Agreeing to go on a lunch date seemed like a good idea at the time. She has a sexy, raspy voice. See, that's my problem. My Achilles heel, my Siren's song. And she called me. The nerve. Normally, a woman who calls me is a turn-off. I would never agree to meet her. At least, I mean, if she calls me sober.

I'm still leading the house sauce with a soggy french fry when she starts humming to the music coming out over the loud speakers. Cher, "Believe". When the song reaches its peak, when Cher sings the word, 'believe', her hum climaxes with an irritating squeal. She stresses the squeal for a long time. I let the fry drop onto the plate and look back up at her. I can't think of anything to say.

"It's really cold out again," she says; smiling. I look outside. She starts talking about the night we met, at The Charleston on Bedford. I hardly remember that night. I thought I gave my number to a smaller, darker girl who was with her. I thought we met at The Tavern on Driggs.

"And remember those d-bags at the bar with their girlfriends?" she asks. "They thought they were, like, being hip or something." I chuckle and she is encouraged. She talks louder.

"Like, what were those woman wearing?" she says, her face contorted with disgust. I stay silent. My mind is elsewhere, now. I look at two empty glasses sitting on the table. The drinks helped lunch drag on. Next time, I will drink coffee; not beer. Next time, I guess.

The waitress comes to our table and hands me the bill. She is cute, but her teeth are small and yellow. She smiles, anyway. I slowly reach for my wallet and place it on the table.

"Ohh, I can pay, too," she claims.

"Is that cool?" I respond immediately. She is surprised. She manages to quickly mask her surprise and hurriedly reaches for her purse. She is flustered.

"Totally. No problem at all. I mean, hey, I called you." She laughs.

"Sorry, it's just, you know...," I pause. "The recession," I blurt out. I can feel a goofy look creep onto my face and I regret saying this. I don't explain any further. She laughs and we leave the table and walk outside.

The day is clear and cold; the sun hurts my eyes. The wind makes me shiver and I put on my Turtle Shell Ray Bans. I look at her.

"Well Dianne, it was fun," I say. "I'm glad you called."

She turns away from me and blushes red. She mutters something.

"What," I ask. She is too shy to flirt with me or ask if I want to see her again. She's not that bad looking, maybe. I don't know.

"It's Lianne," she says softly. "Lianne."

Monday, March 23, 2009

Some Time



It's almost April. My, how time flies when you are having fun.


I want to grow a moustache. I like to pronounce it MOUUUSSEEE-STAAASSSHHH. But, like George, I also need to get a job.







"No matter. It all comes to the same thing in the end. A little sooner, a little later...."
--Caligula.

This is what a recession looks like.

Easily my favorite hour of the night. I set the plastic card down in the middle of the round dinner table while motioning at the waiter with my left hand raised slightly above my head. Every move is calculated; exact.

I steal a quick glance at Todd Jordan, wondering if he will object to me paying the bill. No, of course not, he is canoodling with his bride, Tessa. Through the candlelight, I watch him touch her, slowly pushing dark hair across her face, away from her eyes. She laughs, keeps her head down, and looks at the seat cushion. She is flushed from the wine and smiling, her eyes only barely open. Todd's other hand is on Tessa's upper thigh, kneading at her silk dress. They lean closer to each other and kiss, softly.

I blink hard. Ungrateful bastards. Neither of them seem to notice my credit card in the middle of the table. Six months ago Todd would have spoken up as soon as my arm gave the slightest twitch towards my wallet. That was a different time, I guess. He had recently started seeing Tessa, and not a Friday would pass by where he didn't put up some stink about the bill. One night in particular, when we were out with friends of ours from Morgan Stanley, he actually pulled me aside in the bathroom at Butter and pleaded with me to let him pay for dinner. It was a big tab, too. Our friends, their wives and girlfriends, Todd, Tessa, Cynthia, and myself. $1500, or more. And yes, at the end of the night, it was Todd who smacked his card down on the table. The Morgan Stanley guys resisted, but Todd was insistent. I remember Tessa clutching his arm while he happily shook off their protests. He wouldn't hear them. His treat, he said. His grin that night made my stomach lurch.

Not tonight. No, don't even look at the card, Todd.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

My Place






It has occurred to me that most of you have never seen where I currently live. Well, there it is, in all its housing glory. Where I live.

The first two pictures were taken during last week's snowstorm. How Brooklyn does that look, huh? I'm cool. The last two pics are the inside of my room. I tried to get a nice panoramic shot but it proved difficult. Regardless, my entire room is present in these two pictures. My futon and the crap in front of my futon.

That's how I live. Glamorous, baby. Ohh, I forgot to mention the private grotto off the back end of my room. Pics of that next time.

I've been getting into Electro again, I guess. Freshman year of college I was stoked on Electro only because of the downloading program DC++. I could download anything I wanted. I downloaded a boat load of sub-prime Electro. About 10% of the songs I downloaded were gems. Now, I'm restricted to YouTube.

I like Soulwax.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Lyss Rocks


This next Artie quote from The Larry Sanders Show is dedicated to my Uncle, Dave.

"It's Scotch whiskey. Glenlivet-single malt. When you die, you go to heaven, you will say hello to God. And when God says hello to you, this is what you will smell on his breath".


You know what's insane? The internet. More specifically: YouTube. I've been tossing around the phrase, 'YouTube sensation' a lot recently. The idea of uploading some half-rate video on to YouTube and then getting 500,000 views is hilarious.

But, used and abused as this statement sounds, people's dreams actually come true because of YouTube. Today, I clicked on a video that was recommended to me by YouTube. The video was of a teenage girl singing a song. She has a good voice and a nice channel on YouTube, where she sings famous songs. Turns out this girl went to Grammys because of YouTube. She won a contest on YouTube. Her cover of "I Kissed a Girl" had over 3 million views. This blew me away. It essentially means that this girl's song went triple platinum. Not in terms of sales, but in terms of exposure. 3 million views all because this girl uploaded some webcam video of her singing. Mind blowing.

I was so amazed by her talent that I prepared a well-constructed and thoughtful comment for the comments page. My comment read, "girllzzzz has a bangin voice and id banger her for realllzzz lol".

YouTube sucks.

But seriously, I got sucked into watching her sing about 5 songs. Unfortunately, it's becoming a guilty pleasure. I'm hooked. You go, Lyss!!

Who spells their name like that, anyway? Again, YouTube sucks.




I'm starting to theorize that the background to her videos is a green-screen. I've got too much time on my hands.


Sunday, March 8, 2009

Larry Sanders

I have discovered genius. The perfect television show. The Larry Sanders Show is a 90's sitcom that ran on HBO. It's the full package. It has the societal observations of a Seinfeld, the running-jokes of Arrested Development, and the subtle wit of old Simpsons episodes. Throw in a dash of Curb and a pinch of The Critic and you have The Larry Sanders Show.

The show is about a fictional late-night talk show host and his crew. Garry Shandler, some mid-level comedian who I had never heard about before this show, plays Larry- the neurotic host. Rip Torn, better known for his role in M.I.B, is Larry's confident producer. Jefferey Tamber, the dad on Arrested Development, plays Hank Kingsley. Hank is Larry's Ed McMahon; the couch sidekick. He is insecure and slow on the uptake. Janeane Garofalo and Jeremy Pivin round out the cast.

I have noticed that most of the funny television shows of the year 2000+ era have copied at least one aspect from this show. I would argue that the two funniest shows on television right now are 30 Rock and The Office. Not like I have my finger on the pulse of contemporary television comedy, but everyone, including me, likes these two shows. They both borrow heavily from The Larry Sanders Show.

I can't say more about it. You just have to watch the show. This is one of those shows that if you don't like it, I think you are stupid. No hard feelings or anything, but you are stupid. It's like you idiots who think Friends is funnier than Seinfeld or who tell me, "I don't notice a difference between the old Simpsons and new Simpsons". Yeah, you don't notice the difference because you're stupid. Just like you're stupid if you don't like The Larry Sanders Show.

All the episodes are free on youtube. Start with the first one and make your way through the whole series. Trust me, it's worth it.

"It's part of the process of a divorce. They serve you papers, you hit on your secretary. It's a tale as old as time".




On an utterly different topic, Jake and I have started writing a script for a pilot. Our show heavily borrows from Larry Sanders. Here is the hook:

A group of writers struggle with the absurdities and personalities surrounding them while writing the reality show, Destination: Space.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Bret Easton Ellis

To continue with my Bret Easton Ellis books-made-into-movies theme, how good does this trailer for The Informers look? Amazing, right? The soundtrack is 80-licious.



This movie is laden with stars.

I have to read the book first in order for me to thoroughly hate on the movie when I see it.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Screenplay

"You don't look happy."
"But do I look good?"

The following paragraph will sound cliched and obvious.

Lately, I've been seeing a lot of movies adapted from books. The movie never justifies the greatness of the book. I mean, I hate to be a prick that says, "the book is sooooo much better", but I am that prick. It is possible to make a movie that justifies the book, just seldom done. Think Jurassic Park. That book was OK, and the movie was good. And that's just one example.

I've been thinking about adapting a book into a screenplay. I think that would be fun. However, it's hard to decide on a book. I was thinking about trying to adapt Less than Zero. But, to my dismay, it is already a movie. Starring Robert Downey Jr. The trailer is amazing, but it looks like the movie falls short of the book.

The announcer is awesome. The title at the end is fantastic, also.




I love skateboarding. More than anything. I was cheering during this match.