Monday, April 21, 2008

Learning To Fly


Been a weird week. Tomorrow Ryan turns in my resume and cover letter for Bogdanovich. I did six storyboards today for my short animated movie I'll have done in about seven or six weeks. We're frantically working like an assembly line over here trying to get the Alperman stuff finished up. I started doing Yoga. Carrie and I are on a break. Nadyne, the head make up lady on Scrubs, really liked the treatment and cracked up and we're meeting on Tuesday. Ups and downs all over the place.

Porno class is somewhat disappointing thus far, but I hope it will get better. My presentation on voyeurism was quickly thrown together and I am only half-interested in it. If I were to put all of my time into the class, I would try to search out communist pornography, outsourced pornography, and things like: porno from North Korea (modern), or from China (any time), or from Russia (in the 40's, 80's, and now). That is, of course, if I had time. I hope someone in the class actually writes about porno. Everything so far has been just crazy stuff, totally outside any status as pornographic or sexual. Kind of annoying. Potentially very annoying. Maybe it'll change though.

Watched Runnin' Down A Dream (all three hours of it). It was very informational, all talking heads and anecdotes and stock footage. It was an enjoyable watch, but something that we put on in the background while doing a ton of other things.

Loud Quiet Loud, on the other hand, was phenomenal. The Pixies documentary that, when I first heard about it, I scoffed at and blew off, ends up being up there with Trying to Break Your Heart and the Townes Van Zant documentary that I seem to constantly have on around the house. Despite the text on the screen and those kind of things that bug me, the movie is really, really good. Here's the first five minutes (embedding disabled for some reason).

It's a trip watching the documentary. I was following them around that tour. I saw them at Coachella, then once or twice in LA and once or twice in San Diego. There's a lot of small moments in the documentary that need no explanation, are often silent, and really, really emotional. I love watching it. It makes me appreciate many different things in many different ways. 'Appreciate' not in the laudatory sense. In sense.

"That's a classic solo, Joe. That is a classic solo."

Today we saw Mika Miko and No Age play at the Los Angeles Central Library. First we didn't get in because the place was at capacity, then we sat around the back door and Dean from No Age let us in. Weird and awesome. I love our little music scene. The show was goofy and fun. We stood at the side of the stage while a bunch of rockers sat in auditorium seats and clapped, then sat silently in between songs. Raul jumped up and down on a trampoline at the front of the stage. Very silly.

Watching Joe Strummer makes me very happy and very sad, without fail, every time.

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