Monday, January 25, 2016

An Ordinary Life



Oh, Amy... you get me.

But, seriously... people think I do what I do because I want to be famous.

Fuck.  That.

I hate sticking out in crowds.  I like entering and leaving a place the same way... silently and without anyone knowing I was there.

Yes, I can handle crowds just fine.  I can handle social situations just fine.  But I hate loud places, and this includes parties, bars, and (especially) clubs.

I don't particularly like the city I'm in.  Never have.  I don't hate it, to be sure, but this will never truly be home to me.  San Diego, Boston... Adelaide.  Those feel like home.

I just want to see the world.  All of it.

I am nothing special and I don't ask to be anything more.

It's all for fun and it's all so fucking hysterical.

Bonjour, buenos dias, and good day to you.

Sunday, January 10, 2016

Shove It Up Your Ethereal Asshole

It is precisely because it might be "part of your plan" that I don't believe in you. It is precisely because it might be "your will being done" that I think you're a piece of dog shit, at odds with the very thing that makes us human... being alive. Fuck you, "God."

"Belief" is why we're going to fall apart as a species.

Playlist, January 2016






Friday, January 8, 2016

La Chaise des Animaux

So, I recently moved.  When I had originally returned to Los Angeles, a friend of mine from North Carolina (who had also moved to Los Angeles) gave me a couch and a matching armchair.  Over the next five years or so, that couch got used and abused.  The cats pissed on it (often), used it as a scratching post (even more often), and my dog basically used it as a bed while I wrote or worked on the computer (or played video games... I'll admit it).

Late last year, a friend of mine from Australia came for a visit and decided to buy me a new couch, so we dumped the old one.  However, I kept the armchair.  As it had been in my room, it had not been used and abused and only sometimes did the cats sleep on it.  I'm not sure how many times I even sat on the thing, but it wasn't many.

Anyway, despite the pleas of some to get rid of that chair, I did not.  Despite the fact that it's kinda ugly and rocks a bit due to unbalanced legs (actually, one leg is missing, replaced by a poorly-nailed block of wood), it now sits proudly immediately next to my desk.

But, why did I keep it?

Well, because my pets love it.  And it makes them feel comfortable.

Case in point, when I first moved into the new place, both of my cats hid inside of that chair for days.  Literally, days... coming out only to use the litter box and sneak some water.  I'm not even sure they ate anything for those days.

The only place Sagremor and Kay felt safe...

Anyway, fast-forward a couple of weeks and my living room is done up, my dining room is done up, and the chair winds up in my office, next to my desk.  The cats are finally used to the place, are exploring the neighborhood, and everything is hunky dory.

Well, except for Starbuck and Kay fighting over who gets to sleep in the chair.

"This is bullshit, dude."

"His nose is poking my ass, dude."

"Bullshit, I said!"

But, eventually, it all comes together.  Harmony, at last.

Sagremor is supervising.  That's why he's on the desk.

Sagremor is still supervising.  He's just doing it from a softer place.

Hell, the chair is so popular, so comfortable and comforting, that even animals who don't live here gravitate to it.

"Who the fuck is that, dude?"

And there you have it... reason enough to keep that crappy old chair.

Also, I'm taking French lessons, which explains the title of this blog entry.

À plus tard!

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

Domestication

For the first time since the end of 2005/beginning of 2006, I'm living in a house that I decided to make "homey."  So, with some input from a close friend, that's exactly what I did.

Oddly enough, I found myself enjoying the process of furnishing and arranging the place.  Over the past couple of years, I've discovered that I enjoy cooking.  And, strangely enough, I've almost always enjoyed cleaning.

I guess I'm getting domestic in my old age.





Friday, January 1, 2016

Happy New Year!

This is how I woke up this morning:

"What you got, bitch?  Huh?  Nothing, bitch, that's what.  Meow."
Grayer, that's for sure.  And a little violated.

Happy 2016, everyone!

Irreview, Book Review: The Nutshell Technique

I have, to date, read well over two dozen books on screenwriting and its related mediums (theatre, specifically).  While most - if not all -...