Saturday, July 02, 2005

It's Friday Night, I'm Intoxicated and Blogging...Deal With It...

There's an old saying. Don't drink and blog. Well, okay, so it's not that old, because the word blog has only existed for, like, three weeks. I'm paraphrasing. Sue me.

Anyway, maybe I've been inspired by the frequently hung-over brilliance of Immoderation. Or maybe I'm just too drunk to think about writing my screenplay, and I want to write something. Whatever the reason, I've decided to post inane late-night ramblings. Why should you be denied my brilliance just because I've had between 8 and 12 beers? No reason!

I'm only back here in my room in the first place because I have once again been eliminated from our friendly poker game. My friend Matt is in town from Chicago, and so we all decided that, rather than spend time discussing the various twists and turns of our lives over the past 6 months to a year, thus growing closer as friends, we'd instead try to win $10 off of one another at cards while slamming imported beer.

As usual, I had rotten luck and lost almost immediately. My complete lack of luck at cards almost makes me believe in some sort of higher power. I mean, think about it...if God wanted to punish you, how would he do it? He can't just cause you to spontaneously combust or something. He's got to be subtle. He doesn't want to give the whole game away.

So, maybe he just gives the atheists and immoral bastards rotten luck. He could do it - he has control over all of space and time. Something to think about...

Anyway, I lost right away, and now find myself in my room, drunk, alone, listening to Frank Black's masterful "Teenager of the Year" album and typing to you fine people.

Poker, in fact, is part of the script I'm working on right now. It's not really about poker, so much as it's a thriller that involves some characters who all play poker. But I'm always debating with myself about how much actual poker to include in the movie.

Alert readers familiar with my reviews of poker movies like High Roller and Cincinatti Kid will note that I often find poker movies lacking in actual poker. As if poker itself isn't interesting enough to sustain a movie, and bullshit extra plot devices and fancy camera tricks must be inserted to manufacture audience attention. I personally kind of find poker inherently dramatic, so I wouldn't mind seeing more of the actual game.

But when you're writing a script, you're trying to move everything along as fast as possible. My impulse is always to dilly-dally, focus on dialogue and play the scenes loose, but that's why I always end upf with 160 pages scripts that need to be trimmed down. The best movies aren't really the ones that dither around aimlessly - they're tight, you know?

I mean, this story I'm writing is a thriller. Think of a movie like Parallax View. Have you guys all seen Parallax View? Oh, man, it's fucking great. I'll have to review it some time on here. Warren Beatty, 70's conspiracy thriller. Anyway, it's this incredibly twisty, confusing movie about a reporter who's researching a strange corporation that's recruiting assassins. But the thing is just expertly paced. So tight, so well-structured, so dense and yet so easy to watch and follow. Amazing. That's the sort of thing I want to emulate.

But instead, my stuff always seems to come out Kevin Smith-style. I mean, I like Clerks, and I know that's my style of writing...but still. I sometimes envy the guys that can come out with those 100 page action scripts - just really specific, crisp writing.

Oh well.

I suddenly feel that this post will be really dull. Will anyone but my mother and grandmother have bothered to scan past the screenwriting diatribe? To be honest, my grandmother is probably mortified by now, becuase I mentioned the fact that I've been drinking, and my family seems to suddenly view this rather mild vice as deeply shameful. Seriously. I wrote what I thought was a rather innocent post a few months ago about alcohol, and they were so embarrassed, I feared they would commit seppuku.

Is that an obscure reference? Seppuku is the Japanese ritual practice of suicide, often associated with samurai, where they disembowel themselves with swords. It's done when the samurai have been shamed...much like my parents have been shamed by my drinking posts here on the blog.

But now I feel so stupid and condescending. Of course you knew that. It's a well known thing. These are the thoughts that cloud my mind every time I make a post on here, by the way, not just right now. I just usually keep them to myself. But not tonight!

Okay, I don't really have anything more to say. Oh, I know. Here are some articles I was looking at today but didn't actually have enough to say about to link them on the blog. I'll just list them for your convenience.

Luther Vandross: Dead

Had almost nothing to say about this.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

The music blogs are abuzz this month with talk of this Brooklyn-based indie rock band, and their adulation is once again well placed. It seems like every few months, some new band comes out and gets all the attention from places like Pitchfork, Salon and Tiny Mix Tapes, and then I always wind up really liking the band. Does that mean I'm just a witless trendster, pikcing up on whatever music happens to be popular at that moment? Because I like to think of myself as a free-thinker who's not swayed so easily by marketing.

So, whatever the reason, my enjoyment of this album ranges anywhere from Strong to Quite Strong. It's got a real Talking Heads vibe, which is an aspect is shares with Arcade Fire, making the Talking Heads officially the hipster band to sound like of the moment, narrowly edging out The Cars and Depeche Mode. So, you know, keep a mental note of that somewhere.

My only problem with the album is that one song sounds exactly like Blur's "End of a Century," off of the "Parklife" LP, which is a really great song.


If you have testicles, best not to check out this video. Thanks to Gorilla Mask for this excruciating link.

Oh, and I'm compiling a list of profane, inappropriate or dirty movie quotes. If you have suggestions, leave them in the comments below.

1 comment:

Boyd McKendrick said...

"I can smell your cunt."
-SIR Anthony Hopkins, Silence of the Lambs