⚡️🐻⚡️#lookup #carebear #nyc
⚡️🐻⚡️#lookup #carebear #nyc
I’m out on the balcony with my cousins at night. We pass around a lit joint; a tuneless game of hot potato.
Hot, harsh smoke rushes in, and in one hit I’m gone. This is an ordeal now. The night vibrates.
I look inside through the sliding glass door: two of my cousin’s friends conversing on the couch.
I keep staring at them. They have no idea my eyes are glued to every lip movement, like HAL-9000 right before the intermission.
As I continue ogling, transfixed, I say to whoever’s listening: “This is how TV works…”
Fireworks through the eyes of a (motherfucking) drone = magical, life-affirming, mind-blowing, effervescent, amazing… all of the adjectives. I literally could not contain my giddiness while watching this. Just wow.
Gary Provost (100 Ways to Improve Your Writing, 1985)
This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety.
Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals–sounds that say listen to this, it is important.
I’ve been listening to a lot of Blood Orange recently. This song’s chorus in particular hits close to home… the “you” being me.
These past few weeks have been emotionally draining, but revealing. It has prompted some serious self-reflection. I feel like my finger is always hovering over a self-destruct button, and as long it’s there, and I feel that temptation, and continue to give into it, I will never be happy. And it’ll drag me down, along with those who are in my orbit.
I don’t want that. For me, or for anyone who cares about me. I need to erect a bulletproof glass case over that button, or somehow deactivate it by cutting all the wires connected to it. It’s a matter of always choosing what’s right over what’s easy. It’s a matter of deeply channeling compassion and empathy and respect, and fully fathoming how my actions will affect another person, which comes down to me stepping out of my shell. I can’t keep making amends for mistakes I shouldn’t be making. At my core, I am a selfish person who tries to be selfless, and maybe even a bad person, who tries to be good… but that’s just not good enough.
I briefly make an appearance in this short promo video as an extra! Aside from that, there’s also some disturbingly spot-on Darth Maul makeup action to marvel at, as well as some disturbingly bizarre extras dialogue that you (thankfully) can’t hear lol. But yeah, this was a fun little shoot to be a part of. Personally not that into Auralnauts' brand of comedy, but they are most definitely doing their thing, and I respect that.
So I guess this means I’m now officially on my way to Internet stardom? If you want to reach me for booking inquiries, please contact my agent, because I’LL BE IN MY GODDAMN TRAILER *dramatic diva door-slam*.
I discovered this song on the subway last night. These two guys took turns dancing to it, and their performance kind of just hypnotized me. Because it wasn’t your usual acrobatic subway dance spectacle with hat tricks and pole-spinning and high-energy hype-music blasting. Their movements were less like stunts or power moves, and felt more in sync with details and subtleties in the song — they were just feelin’ the music, and you couldn’t help but feel it with them. It was fucking great. I really wanted to give those guys a dollar or something, but I had zero cash on me, as per usual :[. I did ask them what the song was, though — yeah, honestly should’ve known it was Groove Theory as soon as I heard it. “Tell Me" is like one of my favorite R&B songs of all time. Kinda embarrassing, but so glad I asked.
It’s been more than 9 (NINE) months since my last post on this thing. 9 months ago, I was back home in Fort Myers. I had just finished my internship with the Disney Channel in LA, and was funemployed and vegetating in the great air-conditioned indoors of Southwest Florida, nostalgically rummaging through my closet for old mementos that have somehow survived all of our moves. One item that stood out was this tiny, weathered “travel” journal full of Titanic and Hey Arnold! doodles and various cryptic chicken-scratches from when I was in the 1st grade. Me, my mom, and my sister went to Bangladesh to attend my grandfather’s funeral, and I had this journal among other things to keep me occupied. I was really obsessed with drawing the Titanic sinking, for some reason — that imagery, as a spectacle divorced from its intrinsic horrors, fascinated me as a kid.
Anyways, as per usual, I’m digressing. I wanted to catch you up on my life — these past 9 months, the Lost Episodes. I moved to New York in late September to start a part-time temp job at a film company my friend from college was working at. I met some cool people and made some lasting connections there. I even reconnected with an old friend, outside of work, too. It was great, because I was in New York for a REASON, and I had finally got some real film biz experience under my belt, because I had made the decision after graduating to kind of just totally shift my career gears back to the path I wanted to pursue before even entering college — Film/TV/fuck-it-the-whole-damn-realm-of-moving-images-because-all-content-is-awesome. From that point on, the goal was to land myself on an assistant desk, at an agency or production company, because every anecdote ever told me it’s the classic, all-important first step of most entertainment careers…
And with that singular, narrow focus, the job hunt began, and there were some close calls… but no cigar. It’s a smaller world with less opportunities over here in NYC, unlike the vast wild west of LA, where assistant jobs grow on trees (as long as you know where those trees are, and how to water them). I kept applying, waiting, emailing, following up, LinkedIn-stalking, etc… I even strongly considered moving to LA, and always nervously felt on the verge of doing so, even I though I fucking hate LA. I don’t care if that’s where all the trees are, I’m gonna find a goddamn tree here (because a tree grows in Brooklyn, or whatever)! Because I <3 NY. I have family here. I know people. That’s kind of a big deal for me…
I’ve now been on the hunt for close to 6 months now — rinsing, repeating, giving up, getting lazy and unmotivated, stagnating, letting it do a number on my self-confidence and determination (especially recently). I started doubting myself: “Am I really passionate about this? Do I care about this shit? I don’t think I do. Where the fuck is my DRIVE? Where do people get that DRIVE from? I don’t know what I want, or what I’m doing! Why can’t I get a stupid admin job I’m over-qualified for?!”
But here’s the simple truth: I’m just not trying hard enough. I’ve been acting like an entitled, easily-distracted, soft-skinned brat, about this whole process. I need to make a more dogged, conscious effort at making finding a job MY JOB — that is some basic-ass career advice. I keep telling myself I’ll do things… and then I don’t. I give up. My energy fizzles out. I keep dwelling on the past, and fantasizing about the future, and other realities, and not focusing on the present, on my NEXT IMMEDIATE SHORT-TERM STEPS towards this vague-but-achievable goal of Happiness / A State That Is Better Than The Present, which are: 1) I need to get a job —> 2) I need to lock down a sublet so that I finally have a room and bed of my own. The basics, which should never be taken for granted. Baby steps, which can become aimless when you fixate too much on larger steps, or things that are beyond your control, or things that aren’t even real.
I know. I was gonna fill you in on the past 9 months, and you were probably expecting juicy details, and trust me — there’s a lot of narrative embedded within there. But, I guess that’s kind of antithetical to the whole message here, which is “WTF AM I DOING TUMBLING AND WATCHING THE WORLD CUP I NEED TO APPLY TO SHIT.” Hah, okay, obviously life is all about balance. But I need to step it up. I need to set goals for myself, and actually fucking accomplish them. Here’s what my Reminders app looks like right now (sort of; I excised some mundane stuff, which is saying a lot because this is already pretty mundane):
I’ll speak to the 2nd item: I ran into one of the founders (and Editor-At-Large) of Polygon, my favorite gaming website, on a street near Union Sq the other day. I nerded out, and he gave me his email, and then I emailed him the other day, saying how crossing paths with him that night really brightened up my shitty day, and he responded with a nice message. And now we follow each other on Twitter. Friends forever! Dreams do come true!
Jkjk — the dream is to get published on Polygon, silly, and maybe that serendipitous moment was a sign from the universe. Obviously, queuing up shit you need to do is not the same as doing it (I call this the Netflix Effect, because I’m literally always just adding movies and shows to my List without actually watching them — speaking of, I need to jump on S02 of Orange is the New Black soon o_O), so time to wrap up this longwinded post, because I am always verbose as fuck. I feel good: about life, and myself. I’m grateful for so many things… And I’m saying all this because there was recently a period where I really, really didn’t feel this way. There’s a person, who may or may not read this, who played a part in that dark period (and was going through her own dark period at the time), but is now the main reason for this new lease on life. She inspires me. She makes me want to be better. I hate it when I fuck up, but I can’t let the fuck-up’s define me as a Fuck-Up. I care about her a lot. I’m rooting for both of us.
Like I said, there’s a whole lot of narrative in these Lost Episodes that I haven’t even scratched the surface of… but the basic gist of it: I met someone. At age 22, I finally made direct, unguarded contact with another person. And I’m better for it. Take that however you like.