The Log – 2002 Edition, #2

The new gig, while interesting, is keeping me on my toes as far as making me always try to come up with new and interesting ways to look busy. My back is to the room, and for those of you that don’t know me all that well, I don’t mind telling you that it bothers me to no end that people are always able to look over my shoulder, that I can’t see what’s happening. I mean, for a visual guy, this is torture. What it means in a more sort of imaginary way is that I live thinking that people are always reading what I’m writing, always checking out my screen. It’s unsettling.
Now, five hours later, the word comes down that perhaps we aren’t staying here (“we” is Peter, the other PA and myself), but moving into the ante-room, the entryway, if you will. While this could sound like a terrible idea, like they’re moving us into the super-high traffic area, the place where delivery boys and mail all comes, and it’s true. But moving there would be a major improvement, I think, for a series of reasons. Here are three: first, the lighting is better. Never underestimate the power and importance of good lighting. Second, my back will get to be to a wall. No more ninjas sneaking up behind me. Third, I’ll be out of the eyeline. This one is amazingly important to the life of a PA–never underestimate it.
–I had tasty treats for dinner last night at Megan & Lindsay’s house, and even though it meant that I couldn’t catch Russ, it was worth it. M&L are very good about planning in advance. Besides that, I’m pretty sure Russ has no interest in catching up with me, having moved past his “I need film-makers in my life” phase. I’m not sure if he’s still mad at me about New Years’ 2001 or not, and i guess it doesn’t matter. It sucks that we aren’t tight anymore because he’s a good egg.

and that’s the end. more to come. lots of thoughts, not enough time.

Anyway, this update has sort of meandered into weirdness (as they often seem to), so I’ll leave it at this. On the bus ride home tonight, I’ll probably work on my scr1pt–that’s a good thing. Maybe I can figure out what it’s about.

Anyway, besides that, I’ve already finished the edits to my ORAL PLEASURES scr1pt (which have been complete on paper but not entered for 6 weeks cause I’m lazy), reformatted a computer (which still requires a ton of time) and fought with my roommate in the park because it’s an amazing day.

We used to go fight in the park all the time, but it’s been like nine months and I missed it, so we decided to do it this morning and see how we fared. It turned out not bad, actually. I got punched hard in the ribs once so now it hurts to breathe, but otherwise, my pain is just a symptom of being out of fighting shape. That means that my shins and forearms are all pulpy and sore, but not really injured, and my feet are a little beat up, too. But that happens when you throw lots of kicks.

Anyway, it’s already 1:30 and my mind is blown. I have to go to the bank sometime and see what the story is with getting a loan to buy a motorcycle (someday, i swear) and I have to get my fuckin Maxims down and photograph them so I can sell them on ebay.

The weekend, which saw me completely ignore the internet, turned out pretty well, complete with Spider-Man and closing a Sunnyside bar at 4 on Friday, a party that only managed to make me feel vaguely weird on Saturday (although, man, were there some odd undercurrents going on there) and reorganization and such on Sunday, allowing me to start today running. That’s good. But there’s much yet to be done, so I’m off to *not* lose momentum.

The ARCHIVE still holds everything that used to be here (including this morning’s update, even), and I anticipate that it’ll fill up more quickly, even, than before. I’m psyched.

This week is all about Diamond Distribution, Oral Pleasures and the techlist, and if all of these things sound terribly mysterious (or vaguely dirty), it’s only because, well, they are. I need Diamond to distribute my book and I need to frickin’ finish Oral Pleasures, because I’m running out of time to show the thing to people that might have any interest in production. And the techlist needs to go up so that we all have a place to refuge when this is all over. And it’s all over soon. Maybe I need a countdown.

Anyway, I visited with my mom and sister this weekend in Philly–it was nice to be there. Even though I didn’t spend that much time there, I figure it’ll be only a matter of time before I’m unemployed and can head down there for a few days to work and hang out. Maybe during that time I can also make some money doing web design or hosting. We’ll see. How I’ll survive in the upcoming weeks is a mystery to me.

Last night, out at a house party that I was definitely too sick to be at (although I felt better and my fever has been gone since midday yesterday), I ran into what’s becoming an interesting quandry. To set the scene, Mike has left for the weekend (it’s Heather’s birthday, afterall) so I’m out with Melody and Julie on a Saturday night at a house party in Brooklyn. There’s something nice about rolling into the party with the two hottest girls there, but that’s another rant for another day. So there I am, just kinda hanging out, when this girl starts talking to me. Good stuff. She’s had too much to drink, this much is true, and I’m definitely under the weather, but there’s something else keeping me from even hitting on this girl in a friendly manner. This mysterious something is my quandry. I go to a party–one of the two places at which it’s socially acceptable to meet people (the other being the laundromat, but we won’t even go there at the moment…), and can’t manage to make interesting conversation with eligible (and interested!) women because I’ve got friends at the party. I don’t know if it’s some aversion to hitting on someone when there are women that I came with present and watching, if it’s an aversion to the *idea* of picking up someone at a party, an aversion to looking like some kind of player hitting on girls wherever I go, or something else entirely. It’s a good kind of quandary, I know, to have to wonder why I don’t take advantage of situations where there are girls interested in me (and better still that it’s happened a couple of times recently) but that makes it no less irritating, because the end result was the same as if I’d been in a room full of married senior citizens. Now, if I had a handle on this issue of mine, would I have taken advantage of my situation? Of course not. Sick me, drunk girl, no way home, etc–none of these things are involved in my psychosis, and they’re all totally legitamate reasons that I bounced when I did. No, the issue is somewhere else, something that I can’t put my hands on, and it’s the reason that I didn’t get to the real reasons to go home. Gosh, what does this all mean? Not a damn thing.

I have the strange feeling that this is going to be badly interpreted by a couple of readers. Part of me doesn’t want to post this, in case there are repercussions in the form of people thinking that I’m some kind of player or something, but I think I’ll post it anyway. I mean, I don’t deny that I want to have fabulous, god-like luck with women, that I want to have the opportunity to involve myself with any woman of my choosing. Find me a man that says that he doesn’t want these things and I’ll point you to a pale-faced liar. But action breeds character (thanks Syd) and what I *do* is ultimately what matters, not what I say. So I guess it’s okay if I post all this drivel. Besides, if you think this is bad, wait till I get around to posting about my dad. That one’s been brewing for awhile now, and it might be just too big for me. Only time will tell.