our friend Jaume Collet-Serra directed this PSA.
so proud of him. he is an amazing director.
he directed my hubby's movie Orphan.
Friday, October 3, 2008
where the summer went
http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/hr/content_display/film/news/e3id0839a35f93f4784ee083b10e81764f1
you can't access the whole article unless you subscribe to the Hollywood Reporter.
and let's face it, you don't.
but there's not much else to know about it.
it's a thriller.
we're still kicking around titles.
i don't like the fact that it's untitled. my stuff is usually titled right away.
anyway, i didn't really experience much summer.
i tend to write at home. i'm not really a coffeehouse writer and my writer friends and i do not fool ourselves into thinking we'd actually work in each other's vicinity.
i've been pretty underground the past months.
i have an Associate Producer credit on this one, which i'm loving.
the producer plans to shoot it sometime in the next few months.
so it's rewrites for me. and more rewrites.
then some more rewrites.
you can't access the whole article unless you subscribe to the Hollywood Reporter.
and let's face it, you don't.
but there's not much else to know about it.
it's a thriller.
we're still kicking around titles.
i don't like the fact that it's untitled. my stuff is usually titled right away.
anyway, i didn't really experience much summer.
i tend to write at home. i'm not really a coffeehouse writer and my writer friends and i do not fool ourselves into thinking we'd actually work in each other's vicinity.
i've been pretty underground the past months.
i have an Associate Producer credit on this one, which i'm loving.
the producer plans to shoot it sometime in the next few months.
so it's rewrites for me. and more rewrites.
then some more rewrites.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
my favorite author hangs himself, sending me into a sheer fucking panic.
followed by pit of despair.
sorrow for his wife and family.
and well, utter disbelief.
david foster wallace.
david fucking foster wallace.
really one of the main reasons that i wanted to be a writer.
or pursue it professionally, i guess maybe.
i foisted the essay "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again" upon countless friend/foes, acquaintances.
i loved and admired that motherfucker.
when i heard that he hung himself, i cried till i pulled a muscle in my left side.
then i tossed all his books under my bed.
(if this sounds like the rash act of a teeenager, okay-- i was admittedly already in a bad way that week).
david foster wallace seemed so acutely aware of himself in the world, is the only way i can think to put it. through his essays-- i would've guessed he'd have weathered anything before allowing himself to become the source of grief to others.
but i didn't know the guy.
i do know that he was a genius.
sorrow for his wife and family.
and well, utter disbelief.
david foster wallace.
david fucking foster wallace.
really one of the main reasons that i wanted to be a writer.
or pursue it professionally, i guess maybe.
i foisted the essay "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again" upon countless friend/foes, acquaintances.
i loved and admired that motherfucker.
when i heard that he hung himself, i cried till i pulled a muscle in my left side.
then i tossed all his books under my bed.
(if this sounds like the rash act of a teeenager, okay-- i was admittedly already in a bad way that week).
david foster wallace seemed so acutely aware of himself in the world, is the only way i can think to put it. through his essays-- i would've guessed he'd have weathered anything before allowing himself to become the source of grief to others.
but i didn't know the guy.
i do know that he was a genius.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
DLJ
and the months continue to pass.
me and DLJ.
not sure how i found someone smarter, nicer...
a better communicator, writer, person.
my best friend.
my eyes sting, face puffs, stomach pangs.
my heart hurts.
i might not ever mention him again. my hubby. my love.
but oh god, do i need this man.
me and DLJ.
not sure how i found someone smarter, nicer...
a better communicator, writer, person.
my best friend.
my eyes sting, face puffs, stomach pangs.
my heart hurts.
i might not ever mention him again. my hubby. my love.
but oh god, do i need this man.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
the last thing that made me laugh out loud...
... some TV blurb:
"what you can do to really survive a shark attack"
i think if i ever write a book it'll be titled,
Why I'm not Afraid of Shark Attacks.
bitch, i'm afraid of a lot of things.
i'm afraid of landsharks.
be afraid!
"what you can do to really survive a shark attack"
i think if i ever write a book it'll be titled,
Why I'm not Afraid of Shark Attacks.
bitch, i'm afraid of a lot of things.
i'm afraid of landsharks.
be afraid!
Thursday, July 24, 2008
five months pass.
so like but then of course well--
when there's death in the fam,
all else is rendered moot.
everything.
(to be gut wrenced toward the skies a la Gary Oldman in "The Professional")--
one of my best friends is navigating her way through the French Alps right now and i'm navigating my way back into Google because i forgot/misplaced my IDs/passwords to my accounts in the past months.
sigh.
grieving is as Donkey Kong maven Billy Mitchell would say, a real sunovagun.
when there's death in the fam,
all else is rendered moot.
everything.
(to be gut wrenced toward the skies a la Gary Oldman in "The Professional")--
one of my best friends is navigating her way through the French Alps right now and i'm navigating my way back into Google because i forgot/misplaced my IDs/passwords to my accounts in the past months.
sigh.
grieving is as Donkey Kong maven Billy Mitchell would say, a real sunovagun.
Friday, February 22, 2008
curving into the ole reporter today
i was sure there'd be another baseball analogy--
disappointed!
will have to expound on this tomorrow b/c i'm running out of battery power...
disappointed!
will have to expound on this tomorrow b/c i'm running out of battery power...
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