T-day

There were no casualties over the thanksgiving break.

Discussions between the studios and the wga are supposed to restart today. Will blog more when I learn more.

Requiem

I watched Requiem for a Dream last night. I think I’ve seen all of Darren Aronofsky’s (sp?) films: Pi, Requiem, and The Fountain. All of these films are very good. Shit, the last two are genius. Requiem is an anti-drug movie that isn’t preachy or smug. It doesn’t moralize. In fact, I would that the depiction of drug use, while at times startling, even frightening, is secondary to its success. The film succeeds because it examines the issue of addiction itself; it examines how we think of “drugs,” and how our limited notion of what we can be addicted to affects what we are, in fact, addicted to. Television, prescription drugs, and sex are society’s acceptable drugs; but that doesn’t mean you’re liberated from the dangers of addiction.

It is also one of the most depressing movies I have ever seen, second only to IZO (and for different reasons). IZO’s bloody and bleak nihilism is replaced with tragedy. Requiem stacks tragedy upon tragedy. All of the primary characters meet a tragic fate. And the final tragedy—this isn’t a spoiler—is that none of the characters realize what’s happened to the other characters! They don’t even have the ability to grieve for the sorry state of their compatriots. Their isolation is complete.

If you watch this movie here’s some advice. Grab a couple of your favorite foods, maybe pizza, candy, and a tasty root beer, and eat them after the movie. You will need something to make you feel better, and yes I realize the irony in saying that when talking about a movie on addiction, but loving a thing is not the same as addiction :P

untitled

Went to the gas station last night to grab a bottle of water. As I was paying—I believe the attendant was a black female—two black guys in typical hip hop dress entered. I was suddenly struck with fear. I didn’t break into cold sweats or hyperventilate; the reaction was purely internal. I couldn’t get out of their fast enough. I kept visualizing them robbing the store, pulling guns, wreaking havoc. Is it racist if your emotional response to a minority is abject fear despite your best attempts to the contrary? I’m not naïve. No one is impervious racism, bigotry, etc. but in this case there is a sharp division between thought and feeling. I know, in all likelihood they are just kids, and yet my emotional response is extreme. How do you fix that? How do you undo a reaction like that? What’s the cure, more black male friends??? I worry one day that I may have that reaction to someone I’m teaching. What will the solution be?? I feel contaminated.

More notes on the strike

I learned through unitedhollywood.blogspot.com that the average writer is pulling down
62,000.00 a year. Wow. So much for my conservative estimate. I thought most of them would of had low six figures (when working) and it was the duration between gigs that was really killing them. That figure is simply unacceptable.

BTW unitedhollywood is an excellent page to learn more about the strike.

Damnation

Went to the doctor for a check up and Surprise! Need to drain that right ear again.

I had noticed the swelling hadn't gone down; but I hoped it was just slow on that front, much like the left ear.

This time the aftermath is what's getting me. Already took 3 generic alleve, and I'm currently icing my ear.

Change of direction: the writer's strike

Well, unless you are culturally retarded or—you know—actually retarded you’ve heard about the writer’s strike in tinsel town. I know this ain’t worth much in the grand scheme of things, but I support the writers 100 %. This is supposed to be a blog about sexual trauma, and coping with life in its wake. Well, art, particularly good art, makes that process a little easier. So as far as I’m concerned this is a viable topic for my little island in the web.

I’ve been reading around, mostly on huffingtonpost.com and a few other sites, trying to understand the issues at hand: why the writers are striking, why the studios don’t wanna play ball, the sentiment of commenters, trolls, random passersby, et cetera et cetera.

What I’m finding is that most of the folks who support the strike understand the lay of the land—the rules of Hollywood, specifically why writers have residuals in the first place.

For most folks in La La land employment is never certain, every job is a temporary job. Some jobs just last longer than others, depending on how successful the product (movie/tv show) is. Just like fighters, who are only as good as their last fight, writers (and actors and directors, everyone) are only as good as their last film (or tv show). Now there are a few exceptions, but these apply to A list movie stars and A list directors, who have accrued some political capital. (And for the record I have NEVER heard anyone referred to as an A list writer).

Screenwriters, who haven’t seen an increase in home movie sales since 1989, are hurtin’ pretty bad. To my knowledge there hasn’t even been adjustment for inflation. Combine that with the problem of living in or around Los Angeles, a very expensive town to live in even when the economy is good. And for those of you keeping score at home we’re in the middle of a housing crisis and a gas crisis. Things look to get worse in the foreseeable future. I’m not a number wiz, but I reckon the cost of living is about seventy thousand just to make ends meet—most likely by the way my estimate is conservative.

Now the people—I’m excluding film execs et al—who have crapped on the strike don’t seem to have a realistic idea of how Hollywood works.

“Fire the writers and hire a whole new crop! With better ideas! And imaginations!”

Huh? Ok guess what, most of the people who want to work in Hollywood are already there. Where is this magical “new” crop supposed to come from? The market is already saturated. And those fresh faces out of film school? Hmm. You’ve got to be pretty fucking stupid if you’re a NYU graduate and you burn your alumnae network. You will NEVER get to work with Spike Lee, Ang Lee, or any other highly connected NYU alumnus because THEY WILL BLACKLIST YOU. And as for “better ideas,” it’s not that the overall body of writers is poor; but collaborative art and the economics of collaborative art, are labyrinthine. Write 100 great scripts. Now turn them into MOVIES. Five of them might be great, 20 will be middling, 10 will be poor, 10 will be god awful, and the rest will be stuck in development hell. Outsourcing won’t do a damn thing.

“These guys are greedy who do they think they are blah blah”
See above. Really, I won’t type it again.

“This isn’t the studios fault. Things are out of their control”

I recognize the studios can’t see the future; however, they have the resources to approximate the future impact of technologies, and quite frankly if studio execs make bad deals they should be fired. Screw golden parachutes, golden bungee cords, golden showers, a side of effect their departure should not be exorbitant bonuses. As in other corporate structures wealth is overconcentrated at the top—this is not to say that studio execs shouldn’t be paid well, this is a volatile, dangerous executive position in a volatile fickle market—I don’t have a problem with golden handshakes, within reason—they deserve performance based bonuses and penalties. If the studios are as strapped as they claim, having a treasure chest for a rainy day by way of performance based pay, might have provided them with some bargaining wiggle room.

Suffice to say, I’ll be keeping a close eye on the strike.

Further developments in freaky mutations

The “pimples” now resemble traditional scabs---red, dried blood. Huh?? At what point did I bleed? I may wear a freakin band aid for fear of bleeding on the mats. Plus, for a bunch of hardened warriors the guys turn into squeamish little girls when blood is introduced.

Babykicker was at the house AGAIN. Must talk to mother. Sister is using “moving” as cover to be here. She will try to stretch this out as long as she can. Is she still with crazy boyfriend? Another pertinent question to ask mom.

BJJ and Ears

Back at BJJ after a lay off. Was very nervous about my ears, had serious doubts about the ear guards. Couldn’t bring myself to wear them. I didn’t endure a lot of triangles or lapel chokes but when pressure was applied it did appear to bother my ears. They are still sensitive to touch though. Even though my ears were aspirated last week I still feel…bumps…tender spots that feel like they could still hold fluid, the doctor insists they are empty. Will they go away or will they remain? Perhaps I should set up a little savings account specifically for plastic surgery. There are two pimples on my right cheek that are starting to freak me out. For a while they looked like they would merge, then they appeared to improve, drying shriveling up, dry skin pealing away, then they looked they were doing the giant pimple thing WHILE doing the raisin dance. And now? They look like eggs burrowed into flesh As if maggots could pop out at any moment or maybe even a couple of slugs that borrow into peoples heads, making them rabid sex zombies. They will probably scar. I hate acne scars, especially when I go out of my way not to pick at pimples. Hell, I’m considering switching to a weaker antihistamine just so I can start using some kind of acne med again.

It was one of those classes were I felt like I made improvements but was quickly reminded of how far I have to. We worked some judo pins and escapes, then rolled. I didn’t roll more than 24 minutes due to reasons listed above, but wow that first roll was a killer, my conditioning was lacking. A six minute match is a long time to roll if you’re a beginner. Thankfully, the next few rolls weren’t quite as fast paced. Over all, it was a good roll.

Don't neglect the blog

Having your ears drained can be a very painful experience. I was surprised, in fact, by how much my left ear hurt. It was raw, sensitive, before the needle touched the skin, and boy howdy did it seem to last forever. It seemed to last so long in fact, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could remain still. I had to focus and force myself from pulling away.

If you’ve seen the Lynch version of Dune—a fun albeit flawed film—then think of the pain box. Kyle McLaughlin puts his hand in the box, the box cranks the pain level by exponential leaps and bounds but if he moves his hand the priestess will stab him in the neck with a poisoned needle thingy (there are a lot of “thingies” in this version of dune. The bladeless helicopter thingie, the internal monologue thingie, and of course the weird solid light armor box thingie).

So yeah, it was like that. A few days later I had to return and have the right one taken care of. It was unpleasant, but certainly not in the realm of excruciating.

Odd then, that the left ear was a horrible experience, yet I didn’t curse. I like to curse, and people in pain tend to curse; in fact, for the first 12 hours I believe my descriptive lexicon consisted of “golly” “man alive!” and “highly unpleasant”

My memory isn’t perfect but in 29 years I have NEVER even thought the phrase “man alive!” Is that even a real phrase?! Where the fuck did I get that from?? I know not, seems a bit redundant though. Men do tend to be alive.