The Top Five People of 2006

Okay, enough smack talk. Man writes an outline for a movie and it's all like he liberated Iraq or something. It's time to talk about someone else other than myself, so without further ado, here are my my picks for the top five people of 2006. To be eligible for this list, you must be 1) a NEW presence in my life, and one that has 2) affected me in some significant way.


5) Bono, Rock Star/Activist/Capitalist



You're quietly saving up your nickels and dimes so you can quit your job. You figure you can do eke out at least a year, IF you live frugally: beans and rice, taking public transit a lot, squeezing out the dregs of the toothpaste. Then a rock star shows up at your company and buys the damn place, and hands everyone a nice bonus check. Now you can do 18 months. You can take unlimited yoga classes. And you're going to Asia. All thanks to a perennial Nobel peace prize nominee who makes video games about indiscriminately killing brown people. Bono, you may be a contradiction, but you're MY contradiction. God bless you.


4) ???, Unlockable Character



I am in so much trouble for doing this. I couldn't get the necessary clearances from the legal department to publish this, so what can I tell you about Number Four? Um, nothing. But I can tell you that this person garners a high mention count in discussions with my friends, and is the subject of considerable speculation. And the buzz continues to get louder and louder. Will "El Numero Cuatro", as we affectionately refer to this person, deliver on the hype? Hell if I know.


3) Satoru Iwata, President and CEO of Nintendo Co., Ltd.



This is the man who proved all those worthless game industry analysts and would-be pundits wrong in 2006. He championed pure gameplay over cynical marketing, graphical realism, and fanboy provincialism. And he bet the entire farm on his beliefs. In doing so, he saved the company that gave birth to many childhood memories, and reminded everyone what it was like to play a video game for the very first time. But that's not why he's on this list. He's here because he's a soft-spoken and humble man who quietly worked his way up from developer to CEO. He doesn't speak in marketing copy, loves and believes in his work, and is very cute. (No seriously, dude - I've been in the room with this man, and he's adorable.) In short, he's everything I aspire to be in the entertainment world.


2) My Yoga Instructor, Uh...Yoga Instructor



Here's what I wrote about her a week ago: "This woman is one of the greatest teachers I've ever had in any subject. I go to her class every single day. In that time, I've gained seven pounds of muscle. I've grown out of some of my favorite t-shirts. My back, my shoulders, and most importantly, my heart -- all of these have opened. I feel sturdier than ever, and yet, I feel softer than ever. Something is happening to me, and yoga is only a part of it. And my instructor been with me every step of the way, knowing how far I've come, and how much further I will go."


1) Naruto Uzumaki, Konohagakure Ninja (Genin rank)



Let's be real. Who couldn't see this coming? I've written about him previously here and here, but let me step outside my fandom to write that Naruto is by far the most potent adolescent power fantasy of our time. Stronger than Buffy. Stronger than Harry, even. There's a bored kid inside of all of us, waiting (and waiting still) for the call to adventure. The voice behind the call, if you listen carefully enough, is Mr. Uzumaki's. Naruto turns 15 this February, as the second saga of his chronicles premieres on Japanese television. You know I'll be there.

Twenty-Three Reasons to Quit Your Damn Job Already (2006 Edition)

1. Run into international pop stars at the shoe store.


2. Eat chocolate croissants whenever you damn well please.


3. Skip town for a couple weeks to hang out with old friends BECAUSE YOU FEEL LIKE IT.


4. Take public speaking lessons at USC Business School with future MBAs.


5. Take a road trip to Austin to help your brother move into his new apartment.


6. Learn to do a handstand.


7. Ride the train to San Diego and attend the Comic-Con.


8. Spend more time with your family.


9. Visit a tarot reader.


10. Attend a Hollywood movie premiere.


11. Tour the inside of a B-12 Flying Fortress.


12. Pitch a movie to Hollywood studio executives.


13. Walk the Brookyln Bridge.


14. Remove the bicycle from storage and ride around the neighborhood.


15. Learn to make risotto and other things.


16. Create ringtones of your favorite anime series for the amusement of teenagers across the Internet.
    


17. Gamble at an Indian casino.


18. Disassemble a video game console and recalibrate the laser.


19. Attend the Whitney Biennial.


20. Eat barbeque in South Central Los Angeles.


21. Take yoga lessons.


22. Serve as a juror on a trial and deliver a verdict.


23. Write a blockbuster movie about Lobsters fighting Butterflies.

Some Assorted Thoughts On Life and Happiness and Everything, Part VI

So this series is clearly turning into a year-end roundup of sorts. A summary seems appropriate at this point, because I am roughly halfway through this little adventure, having spent approximately half of my savings.

Let's answer some Frequently Asked Questions:

Q) Are you worried yet?

A) Nope.

Q) Are you happy?

A) Yes. Very much so.

Q) Do you miss your old job?

A) Lol.

I recently met with a former coworker from the video game company who hadn't seen me since I left. We caught up over lunch, and the following bit of dialogue ensued:

Him: I think this plan of yours is going to work.

Me: How can you tell?

Him: Your voice. I can tell by the way you talk about things.

I'm not necessarily agreeing with him. It's way too early to tell. But his commment is a small reminder to me that significant changes are happening in my life. And they may be happening more slowly than I can notice.

There was a day, not too long ago, when I put on a favorite t-shirt and noticed that it fit me a lot more snugly (and uncomfortably) than usual. I thought that perhaps I had unintentionally shrunk it by putting it in the dryer (I hang dry all my shirts). So I put on another shirt. Again, a bit too tight for comfort.

Then I realized: it wasn't the t-shirts. It was me. And more specifically, me in yoga class. I later weighed myself. I had put on seven pounds of muscle. And I hadn't even noticed.

I suspect something similar is happening to my creative faculties, but I won't really know until I am well into my first draft of Lobsters vs. Butterflies. I can tell you that ideas seem to come much more quickly than they used to. There's a nice sense of playfulness to my work. I'm beginning to remember what it was like to be engaged in something, only to hear my mother's voice yelling, "DINNERTIME!", and to look up, blinking.

And if you're asking me to compare my creative powers now to when I was punching a clock, it's no contest. The day after I left my job, I traveled to Thousand Oaks to visit an intuitive advisor. She described the then upcoming transition in my life thusly:

Download: Judy Talks About My Creativity Before And After Leaving My Job

At the time, I thought her metaphor was quite goofy. But now I realize that it was quite apt.

Welcome to the meadow, ladies.

Some Assorted Thoughts On Life and Happiness and Everything, Part V

This post is about destiny.

No, it's not another Judy post (come back tomorrow). This one is about something even Judy's formidable powers cannot foresee: ideas.

As a writer, you spend an inordinate amount of your life sitting in a room and banging your head against a desk. The only reason anyone would willingly choose such a life is that she has become obsessed with a beautiful idea.

Ideas are your most fragile and precious resource. They are both your livelihood and fuel, and you spend a lot of time waiting for them to appear. You "research": you read, you watch movies, you talk to people. You survey the landscape, take soil samples, and drill down, hoping for another big strike.

More often than not, you don't find it. Your greatest fear is that you've tapped out your wells. But the truth is, all of this "research" is a sham: you have no idea when or where an idea will appear. Ideas only seep slowly and unpredicatably from the most obscure crevasses and fissures of your life. They spring from the most trivial moments, the most chance encounters, the silliest events.

Don't believe me? Here's a roundup of my writing projects and their origin stories:

The Last Whatever: During high school, I walk across a courtyard and see an autumn leaf floating across the ground, traveling in perfect concentric circles. (Uh, that's it. And this script got me a ton of meetings and recognition. Ridiculous.)

Waxahachie Air: I buy a cheap paperback pulp, read a few chapters of it, and toss it aside. My friend Wallace shows up, picks up the book, reads a chapter I hadn't read, tells me, "Hey, this is interesting." I read the chapter he's talking about, and say, "You're right. I want to make a movie out of this."

Pillow Crisis: I go to a Minibosses show at Meltdown Comics. I idly thumb through some lame time-traveling comic while waiting for the band to go on. Bam! Random idea strikes. (I can't even tell you the name of the comic.)

Lobsters vs. Butterflies: My brother gets a summer job as a game tester at my former place of employment. He spends a lot of time in the Quality Assurance room with other adolescent guys, playing games, talking shit, and watching anime. His coworker introduces him to one Naruto Uzumaki, who immediately becomes an obsession of my brother's. Jon loads up my hard drive with twenty gigs of episodes, and makes me promise to watch it. He returns to college. I forget about Naruto. And then, one day, I quit my job. Suddenly, I have all the time in the world. I'm bored. So I watch some Naruto. And watch some more. Take a few breaks for meals and sleep. Watch even more. And as I'm watching, a story crystallizes in my head: the idea, the tone, the world.

Those stories are quite possibly the most banal things I've ever written. But their banality supports my thesis: a writer's entire career balances on the point of the most trivial and ephemeral moments.

What if I hadn't crossed the courtyard that day? What if I hadn't gone to the Minibosses show? What if my brother hadn't worked at the game company? Three whole years of my life - the years I spent chasing those random ideas down - would have been radically different.

There's a small, whimsical form of destiny at work here. And the only thing I can tell you about it, with any certainty, is that it feeds on idle time. It only sneaks up on you when you're ready to play. It only works when you step away from your desk.

One of the primary aims of my little experiment - of these eighteen months - has been to give myself as much idle time as possible. I can guarantee you that if I hadn't quit my job, I would never have watched seventy episodes of a Japanese animated series about a hyperactive twelve-year-old who wears an orange jumpsuit and yells a lot.

But I did.

And doing so might very well mean the beginning of an entire career.

Some Assorted Thoughts On Life and Happiness and Everything, Part IV

Download this and listen.

Some Assorted Thoughts On Life and Happiness and Everything, Part III

The amazing thing is not that Judy got it right.

The amazing thing is that she got it right, and life STILL took me by surprise.

P.S. We haven't even gotten to the best part yet. Buckle up.

Some Assorted Thoughts On Life and Happiness and Everything, Part II

One day I awoke, got dressed, and went to work at the video game company. Although this day began like any other day during my salaryman existence, it would not end so.

This was the day that I learned that 1) the future of my employment at the company was in doubt (this was a false alarm, but bear with me), and 2) my relationship at the time was over (most definitely NOT a false alarm). I learned of both within hours of each other. I learned of the first by e-mail.

I learned of the second by instant message.

No, this was NOT the opening of a Cameron Crowe movie. In fact, it was my life. It may not have been the most fulfilling life, in retrospect. But it wasn't bad at all. And confronted with the sudden and immediate loss of it, I was shellshocked.

So I stood up from my desk, left the building, and walked across the street to the Hammer Museum. The Hammer Museum has a wonderful enclosed patio: a cool, white marble cube filled with trees and bamboo shoots. It's one of the calmest places in Los Angeles, and one of my secret hiding places when I need to quietly regenerate. Indeed, I spent a lot of time there when I was working at the video game company. (Nowadays, not so much - my entire life is for quietly regenerating.)

As I walked to the museum, my head was filled with a resounding, endless chorus of panic. Panic exploding into panic. Recursive panic.

I entered the museum patio. Stillness and silence, my favorite trees. I climbed to the second floor balcony, and sat down on a bench. Before me was a giant balcony, cut in the shape of a half-ellipse. I could see the rooftops of Westwood rolling before me. I sat and listened to the wind, felt it against my skin.

Suddenly, I couldn't help it anymore. I smiled to myself.

"This is fucking AWESOME!" I thought. "How exciting is this? And SO dramatic!"

It was one thing to be threatened with the loss of a job, or with the loss of a relationship. But both on the same day? Within two hours of each other? If there was a god, this entity had walked up to the bar and told me, "I done bought them drinks. Bitch, you is MY GIRLFRIEND."

It just seemed so ludicrously operatic, hilariously tragic in the Greek sense. It felt as if powerful forces beyond my control had stirred, and were now rushing to evacuate me from my own life. I imagined angels walking around with walkie-talkies, barking orders to each other; "Operation: To Hell With This Bullshit" was a go.

Clearly it had been decided that this life would not do. And it would no longer continue. Effective immediately.

And for one of only a few times in my life, I had absolutely no idea what was going to happen next. An entire universe of possibilites unfolded before me. I was thrilled.

I had the fleeting intuition that something wonderful was about to happen. Something important.

I enjoyed that thought. I got up from the bench, walked back to the office.

And proceeded to panic all over again.

Some Assorted Thoughts On Life and Happiness and Everything, Part I

A few weeks ago, I was minding my own business in yoga class when my instructor called me to center stage. It was time, she informed me, to learn how to do a handstand.

Let me clarify that: A MOTHERFUCKING HANDSTAND.

I noted the fact that everyone in the room was looking at me, smiled politely, and said, "I've never done that before."

Understatement of the year. My instructor proceeded to tell a long anecdote about her first handstand, which took place in her very first class with a new instructor. She was annoyed with him at the time, but eventually realized that he was offering her a special place of honor in the class. Which was my instructor's roundabout way of saying the same thing to me.

Let me give you some context: this woman is one of the greatest teachers I've ever had in any subject. I go to her class every single day. In that time, I've gained seven pounds of muscle. I've grown out of some of my favorite t-shirts. My back, my shoulders, and most importantly, my heart -- all of these have opened. I feel sturdier than ever, and yet, I feel softer than ever. Something is happening to me, and yoga is only a part of it. And my instructor been with me every step of the way, knowing how far I've come, and how much further I will go. I promise you now: this woman will be a guest at my wedding. (That should preempt any "so why don't you marry her" remarks.)

Anyway, the task before me was a handstand. So I got down on my hands and knees, kicked my feet up, and my instructor adjusted my legs into position. My wrists felt as if they were going to snap in half under the pressure of my entire body's weight. But that's a sensation you often feel with every new pose: like the lady says, what you experience at any level is what you experience at every level. I held the pose for fifteen excruciating seconds, not wholly believing my own strength. The sensation was so intense that the only thing in the universe at that moment was the presence of my own strength, overpowering everything else out of existence.

And then I dropped back down. As soon as I had done it, the first thing I thought was: it didn't count because she helped me. So I immediately tried again by myself. And held the pose for another fifteen seconds. My body and mind went supernova. And then it was over.

I still can't believe it. This handstand, along with many other things in my life, would have been an impossibility nine months ago.

But every endeavor begins with a single action, performed in a single moment.

And now I find myself here.

I Hit My Goddamn Milestone For The First Time Ever, People

Well, I finished my outline. In a record-shattering three-and-a-half months.

The movie feels fast. And mischievous. And - thank goodness - solid. It has problems, it will always have problems, but this is definitely a movie and not a crumpled up sheet of paper in my trash bin.

Last night, I was up until three in the morning, talking to Huili about The New Hotness (this seems to be a recurring phrase in my life nowadays.) He gave me a conditonal greenlight, and I'm going into a first draft in January. That cheering you hear is that of the Rebels celebrating the escape of the first assault carrier.

The eternal question when you're writing a film is: will it cohere? Will all the disparate elements, characters, action sequences bouncing around in my head pull themselves together into a movie that actually works? You spend a lot of time paralyzed by this fear, and in order to overcome it, you think. And think some more. An outline is a way of recording your iterative thought processes as you fuss over every single detail in your head, attempting to align them in some semblance of coherent narrative.

Let me give you the context of this feat. My thesis script in film school took about six months to outline, and even then, the outline utterly failed in its purpose of, you know, outlining. I rushed (if it's possible to call turning in a script a year late "rushing") a very messy script to meet my graduation requirements, and that script now lives in a desk drawer, waiting for someone to blackmail me with it. My next script, the Last Whatever, was outlined piecemeal over the period of about a year, while I worked crunch hours at the video game company. The outline wasn't a failure, but it failed to capture the necessary moments of the completed script. I know this because I undertook a page-one rewrite after a year of working on it.

In other words, I suck at outlining. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. Because I'm of the opinion that a movie that reads well as an outline or treatment, it will suck as a movie. Good outlines and treatments, unlike good movies, are simple and obvious in the way they move from point to point.

The suckiness of outlines and treatments (and of writing them) aside, you do need to have some idea of the shape of your movie before you sit down to write it. Screenwriting has a lot in common with architecture in that there are obligatory structures in a film, just as there are in a building. You may not know where the bathroom is located, nor what shade of paint it will have, but you know you must have one.

Memento Mori

If you've been reading this blog, you're aware that I quit my job about nine months ago to pursue my screenwriting career full time. While I was working, I would often spend time working offsite, going to the library to do research, or writing outlines at a museum cafe.

A habit of mine was to write my cell phone number on my cubicle's whiteboard, so if anyone needed to reach me (which was never), they could dial me up. When I left the company, I unintentionally neglected to erase my whiteboard, leaving my number for everyone's reference.

Since I left, my cubicle has been appropriated by not one, but two interlopers. Nine months have passed. Babies have been born. Nations have fallen. The video game I worked on is still nowhere near release.

AND MY NUMBER IS STILL ON THE FREAKING WHITEBOARD.

Along with a drawing of a Gameboy Micro that a coworker drew in order to explain the design aesthetic it shares with the Xbox 360. "That's how little the place has changed," says the former coworker.

"This is so going into my blog," I say.

My lonely cellphone number, imploring my oblivious coworkers to call me, accompanied only by a poor man's rendition of an obsolete video game handheld. If that's not a memento mori for my former employer, I don't know what is. Allow me to say that I am very happy with my current mode of employment.

Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!

The Timeline: 2007

Let's get this out of the way: summer vacation is most definitely over. The timeline below merely covers my professional concerns, an extracurricular activity, and none of my personal life. Multiple areas of my existence seem to be expanding simultaneously, and the timing and scale of the expansion is somewhat unexpected.

This writing schedule would have been unfathomable for me as recently as a year ago, and it's still pretty unfathomable now. But I've managed to make a record amount of progress in very little time, and I can only hope that it will continue. One of the things I've realized about my day is that I still only spend a handful of hours every day engaged in truly productive creative work. The difference is that now the remainder of my day now serves to prepare me for those hours, as opposed to hindering me. More on this in a bit.

December 2006

• Home for the holidays
• Finish Lobsters vs. Butterflies outline
• Wrangle Pillow Crisis outline into acceptable shape for studio overseers
• Go to yoga class

January 2007

• Begin Lobsters vs. Butterflies draft
• Tell everything and everyone else to GO TO HELL
• Continue wrangling Pillow Crisis part-time anyway
• Go to yoga class

February 2007

• Continue Lobsters vs. Butterflies draft
• Begin making travel plans for Europe and Asia
• Do as little work on Pillow Crisis as I can get away with
• Go to yoga class

March and April 2007

• Lobsters! Butterflies!
• Pillows?
• Yoga

May 2007

• Finish Lobsters vs. Butterflies Draft
• Nicholl Fellowships Deadline. Enter. Win.
• If still working on Pillow Crisis, ponder own mortality
• Go to Europe - UK? Spain? Italy?
• Go to Asia - China? Japan?
• Go to yoga class

Summer 2007

• Put rouge on LvB (and Pillow Crisis?) and push onto street corner
• Anticipate of writers' strike and possible spec material feeding frenzy
• Make contingency plans as the money runs out
• Alternately, cancel contingency plans and count stacks of money
• Go to yoga class

The Birds

When I returned home from Dallas, my grandfather was visiting from San Jose, and wanted to go the Indian casino in Oklahoma. Every. Single. Day. It was on one of these trips that I managed to hit a $20 jackpot off a single pull of a slot machine.

On the bus ride to the casino, I saw a sight I hadn't seen since I was a boy riding in the car on the way to school: an impossibly large flock of birds, spinning like tea leaves in a cup, shifting position from one set of telephone wires to another, sitting and suddenly moving, again and again. The birds were struggling to find peace, but found themselves endlessly agitated by some unseen force. I must have seen this phenomenon countless times driving up and down Hillcrest Rd. to school in the morning. And I still have no idea what they're doing, or why they're doing it. I can't even identify the species.

You don't see flocks of birds like this in Los Angeles, and you certainly don't see this particular specimen (like a blackbird, but smaller). Birds in Los Angeles tend to be more solitary, if the occasional blackbirds and sparrows I see in my neighborhood are any indication.

When we returned from the casino, the bus deposited us in the expansive tracts of parking lot in front of a Wal-Mart. The birds had gathered in the countless tiny trees of the countless parking lot islands, and were chittering to each other in a monstrous cacophony. It's utterly lame to describe natural phenomena in industrial terms, but they are the only references I have: the noise sounded like a thousand tiny car alarms going off at once. Conversation was impossible, as was thinking. The experience was one of the most eerie and unsettling I can remember.

Day of the Ninja

Today, in case you hadn't heard, is the Day of the Ninja. An auspicious day to break an unintentional month-long silence, especially if you know anything about what I've up to for the past three months. Also, Naruto is a ninja. Never forget.

The short story is that I've been very busy. Pillow Crisis is back in play with our overseers at the studio, and the Lobsters vs. Butterflies outline is nearly complete. I've watched about 30 movies in the past month, read half as many books, and have spent too much time listening to the Naruto Original Sound Tracks. LvB has seeped its way through my skin and into my bloodstream, as I compulsively spend the majority of my day thinking about crustaceans and insects. Even when I would prefer not to.

Over the past two months or so, I've learned a lot about self-employment workflow. Most of my upcoming posts will concern the lessons of making your own work.

What else? I went home for Thanksgiving, won $20 off a single pull of a nickel slot machine, and managed to not buy any clothes. I caught up with a friend who doesn't read this blog, and he said, "You've had a very exciting year."

And 2006 is a bottle of melatonin compared to 2007. My next post will concern the timeline for the next six months. It involves one newly completed screenplay, brand new negotiations with the studios, Europe, Asia, and some very intriguing guest stars. And these aren't even the possibilities - these are just the ACTUALITIES.

How To Save $100k On Business School Tuition

Last week, I was pleased to begin a public speaking course (of sorts) with MBA students from the Marshall School of Business at USC. My curriculum would not be unusual at all were it not for the fact that I am not, nor have I ever, been an enrolled student at the Marshall School of Business.

I receive a lot of strange looks, as well as the oft-asked question, "Are you a first year?" My joke is, "Hey guys! I'm getting all of the networking without paying any of the tuition!" That one goes over really well, let me tell you.

Four times a month, we meet in an elaborate circular classroom that evokes the notorious Star Chamber of British criminal justice history. It's a room more suited to the wearing of robes and powdered wigs than khakis and loafers. The atmosphere is quite casual, and many people bring lunch into the room; the b-school kids are a genial crowd, if a bit vague about their actual career aspirations (beyond making a lot of money).

We go around the room and volunteer to deliver a spontaneous two-minute speech on a topic drawn from a hat. The room appoints four judges. The first two judges are the official timer and the grammarian. Then there's an "um, like, you know" counter, whose job is to count your verbal time-fillers. And finally, a judge known as "the posture police", whose task is to critique your physical mannerisms.

I've only been to two sessions, and I have not volunteered yet. Even in a relatively safe environment as a b-school classroom, the pressure of speaking before a crowd of relative strangers is palpable. But even as a mere spectator, I've already learned quite a bit about public speaking:

1) There is no such thing as speaking too slowly. No. Seriously. It's. Totally. True.

2) The actual content of your speech is completely insignificant. The smoothness of your delivery is everything. Even if you have absolutely nothing to say, if you are able to say it without awkwardness, you have won. Congratulations. You are now ready for a career in politics.

3) The ability to transition from one point to another is the layup of public speaking. You might also call this ability "improvisation". If you can master it, you've got public speaking licked.

4) The crowd wants you to succeed. They're willing to give you the benefit of the doubt a thousand times over, because they all know how hard it is. So relax.

5) Stop doing that annoying thing with your body already. It's a defense mechanism you're using to protect yourself from the crowd. See point #4. (And now we see the cross-disciplinary benefits of yoga, which trains one to confront all situations with a body balanced and at peace. It's all coming together.)

Fiscal Report: October 2006

As promised, here comes the red ink. Last month, I issued guidance that the era of large budget surpluses was coming to an end, and identified increased leisure spending as the would-be culprit. I was only half-correct.

I was utterly stumped by the depletion of my food budget this month, as I hadn't dined at any particularly fancy establishments. And then I realized that I spent the majority of October trying to fell my research stack, chopping away at the piles of books and dvds about lobsters and butterflies that sit on my desk. Due to my intense focus on research, I opted for take-out instead of cooking more often than not, and the expenses added up. Take-out, I've decided, is for chumps. It's much better to cook cheaply for yourself and occasionally splurge on the good restaurant, than to order mediocre take-out often. As my budget will attest, the two cost roughly the same.

But take-out did save me time, and as should become increasingly apparent over the next few months, the time constraints upon A Very Big If are only increasing in number. More on that in a bit.

Additionally, a large sum was spent on the Household Improvement Initiative, which I'm pleased to report, is a success. Although my apartment will never aspire to any status greater than Late 90's Dorm Room, the interior of my freezer compartment is immaculate, and no longer a exhibit of natural history.

UNDER BUDGET SPENDING CATEGORIES

Entertainment: 114.57
Dining Out: 5.51

Total: $120.08 under budget

Tonal Shift

I'm headed into a period of time where the number of things I must accomplish and the amount of time I have to accomplish them are not commensurate. There's been a definite shift in tone for my grand adventure; whereas the early, salad days of the endeavor had the promise of an eternal spring break, we're now settling into a definite back-to-school rush. Some brief updates:

• Outlining my new writing project (Lobsters vs. Butterflies). It's coming along slowly but surely; a little too slowly, for my tastes. I've been plowing through every movie that is remotely related to the project, and the Los Angeles Public Library is dutifully delivering new research materials to my local branch on a weekly basis.


• Serving as a frequent demontration model in yoga class. For some reason, I am called to serve ever more frequently by my instructor; this would not be so worrisome were it not for the fact that she often calls upon me to demonstrate poses I've never done before. I know I'm getting good at this because the adjustments my instructors are making to my stance are becoming downright nitpicky - we're talking millimeters here.


• Upgrading to the six-out-at-a-time on Netflix. Between the daily red envelopes in my mailbox and the yoga classes, it's hard to declare a bigger indulgence. The problem I had with the four-out plan was that I was watching movies faster than Netflix could send them to me. I have at least twenty more movies to watch in the name of researching LvB, so I consider this a temporary upgrade.


• Optimizing my daily schedule. Back in the salad days of my tenure on Pillow Crisis, I engaged in ad hoc scheduling of my day. It worked back then, but without a writing partner cracking the whip, productivity and focus have flagged a bit. I have at least one post coming up about schedule optimization for the self-employed.


• Cleaning the apartment AGAIN. This is really a process that never ends, but I need to reach and maintain a certain threshold of cleanliness within the next two weeks. My roommate is off on a jaunt to Taiwan and Thailand, which provides me with a slight advantage: whatever I can clean, will stay clean. (For now.) I am devoting an hour each day to housekeeping, because that's the only way my humble adobe will ever be presentable.


• Thinking quite a bit about travel. After all, the blog's description mentions travel as a unique selling point, and to date I've only visited cities on the North American contienent, none of which have been new destinations for me. I've been thinking a great deal about Italy lately; I'd like to see Florence and Venice (before it goes under).

Jury Duty: Day Seven - The Verdict

The pulse races when you read a guilty verdict to a defendant. You are very much aware that you are defining a significant portion of a life's trajectory. And the court reminds you of this act, by asking each juror to verbally confirm the verdict.

Last Friday, I voted guilty to convict a defendant accused of two counts: driving under the influence, and driving with a blood alcohol level of .08% or above. Until I voted guilty, the jury was hung, with myself voting against the rest.

I wasn't convinced that the prosecution's case was strong enough, as the field sobriety tests were inconclusive, the field breathalyzer was unreliable, and the defendant's reading at the station breathalyzer was well within the stated margin of error.

What changed my mind was actually looking at the prosecution's exhibits. Buried within a stack of papers were the calibration records for both the field and station breathalyzers. Looking at the numbers yielded some telling findings. First of all, the field brethalyzer's deviation from normal was about .013 grams per 1000ml - for the sake of discussion, we could suppose that the unit was overstating the defendant's blood alcohol content by .013 on a reading of .099. Which places the defendant well above legal limit.

But what if you throw out the field breathalyzer (as you should, since the unit died with two weeks of the field test)? Well, it turns out that the prosecution wildly overstated the margin of error for the station breathalyzer, much to the detriment of its case. The prosecution stated that the margin of error for the station breathalyzer was + or - .01. But a quick perusal of the station's calibration logs reveals that the machine never deviated from a test sample by more than .001. In other words, the machine was a whole order of magnitude more accurate than the prosecution claimed. The defendant's reading of .08 was almost certainly a .08.

The practically infallible accuracy of the station breathalyer established (for myself) the defendant's guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. So I changed my vote. And we ended jury deliberations after an hour.

We almost made minimum wage that day.

Jury Duty: Day Six - Deliberations

After a couple short days of testimony, today we had our first day of actual deliberation. I'm playing the contrarian, cracking a lot of jokes, and annoying the FUCK out of some of my fellow jurors, many of whom just want to go home. They have full-time jobs, after all. Guess what? I don't. So let's deliberate, motherfuckers!

The justice system in the United States appears to be quite wobbly, but still servicable. Generally speaking, I'm apalled by widespread lack of understanding of "presumption of innocence", as well as "margin of error". But on the other hand, I'm encouraged by the feeling that most people seem to want to do the right thing, if given a proper chance. And enough cookies.

As with our surfeit of sugary confections, there is no shortage of distractions in the jury room. Today, we discussed a wide range of topics, ranging from Terrell Owens of the Dallas Cowboys to stoplight avoidance strategies. And one of my fellow (and older) jurors had the gall to hit on me while we were in the jury room. And this is not some ambiguous flirtiness I'm citing to boost my ego - we're talking full-on forearm touching, which in my experience, is beyond a reasonable doubt.

Ladies, please - I'm trying to administer some justice here.

Fiscal Report: August & September 2006

I'd like to issue some forward guidance, and warn our investors that this month most likely marks the end of large budget surpluses. We foresee substantial increases in leisure spending across the board, and the increases are, at this time, not within our capacity for projection. However, it is a testament to our sound financial planning that a large percentage of surpluses was earmarked for a budget category named "Utter Frivolity", an as-yet untapped source of supplemental leisure funds.


UNDER BUDGET SPENDING CATEGORIES: AUGUST

Groceries: $98.79
Dining Out: $79.25
Auto Fuel: $42.91
Unallocated: $157.89

Total: $378.84 under budget


UNDER BUDGET SPENDING CATEGORIES: SEPTEMBER

Groceries: $119.10
Dining Out: $40.05
Entertainment: $81.94
Auto Fuel: $97.91
Unallocated: $155.91

Total: $494.91 under budget

Jury Duty: Day Three

This was quite possibly the most difficult day of service. I spent all six hours listening to testimony, some of it impossibly dull. My rate of yawns per hour skyrocketed, despite some truly catty performances from the trial lawyers.

Something that bothers me about the legal process: the judge neither specifies nor defines the law that applies to the case before the trial. Instead, this absolutely crucial information is not disseminated until all the evidence has been presented, a sequence of events that seems quite backwards to me. Sitting on a jury is an evaluative process, and to begin the process without all the necessary information feels like a deeply flawed approach. However, not knowing the exact criteria by which I will decide the defendant's innocence encourages me to take really good notes. Which may be the point.

Jury Duty: Day Two

Well, I'm on the jury. I have a feeling I should have kept my mouth shut and been more inscrutable, as that strategy seems to have been effective for a fellow Asian-American juror candidate who was excused.

The trial should last until Wednesday. I get $15 a day, and a free weely Metro pass. I also get Monday off, so I can at least make an appearance at the Center for Hot Moms during my tour of duty.

I'm not allowed to discuss the case, but I'm finding the experience at least somewhat interesting, as I'm interacting with people I wouldn't normally encounter during the course of my day. Not only that, but I get to hear some deep and dark secrets from total strangers. And trial itself, despite being a lowly misdemeanor trial, has no shortage of theatrics from the players involved.

Jury Duty: Day One

The great irony is that when I was punching a clock, I couldn't get on a jury to save my life. But as soon as I quit my day job, the justice system issues a summons.

I spent most of today reading in the juror lounge in the Washington Blvd. courthouse, a masterpiece of 70s Brutalist architecture with space-age lighting fixtures and oak-veneer walls. My fellow juror candidates represent a fairly accurate cross-section of Los Angeles - it's like the cast of Crash up in there.

"Is there an elderly black woman?" asks my roommate. "Yup." "Gotta have the elderly black woman."

We were this close to escaping the courthouse without being called to a courtroom, when a judge summoned us at 2:30. We spent the next two hours receiving lectures about the criminal justice system and answering jury selection questions from the judge and lawyers. I'll be back tomorrow, to find out if I'm actually selected as a juror. There are 24 candidates, so my odds are even.

I'd much rather be in yoga class.

The Arrival of Autumn

Something my yoga instructor reminded me of today is that last Saturday marked the beginning of fall, and the end of summer.

I'm inclined to pick fall as my favorite season - a preference I elegized in one of my scripts - despite growing up in a place in which the leaves don't turn. My wardrobe is heavily tilted towards cooler weather, I don't have to be so obsessive about wearing sunblock, I can stock up on school supplies, and the tone of the days turns a bit more serious.

I don't really think it's a coincidence that I happen to be starting a new writing project and performing website maintenance at this time. And now that I think about it, every infatuation and/or relationship I can remember began in autumn. There's clearly some sort of internal Aztec calendar at work here, demanding the modern equivalent of fresh human sacrifices at the appropriate solar-mandated moment.


Tetris at the Hollywood Bowl.

I forgot to post details about the Video Games Live concert. Essentially, if you have to ask what this is, you're probably not going to be interested. The VGL concert consists of the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra covering video game music from the seventies to the present day. The quality of the show was acutally a bit lacking - the sound engineering was problematic, and some repertoire selections were questionable. But the show began on a stroke of brilliance: the orchestra performed a stirring rendition of the score from Pong. Which, as you may or may not know, consists entirely of two notes, repeated over and over again, as the pixel bounces between the paddles and the walls.

The best part of the show is merely sitting at the Bowl and chilling. The actual music on offer is kind of irrelevant, really. And with ticket prices for VGL starting at $3, you can be sure I'll be back next year.

"Site Maintenance"

As you know, we here at A Very Big If are committed to providing you with the best possible blog-reading experience. As part of that commitment, we recently performed some "site maintenance". Unfortunately, as part of this "site maintenance", certain content went offline, including some reader comments. We sincerely regret the disappearance of the content. Thank you for your attention and understanding.

The $1400 Apartment

This is the view from my brother's new apartment: a two bedroom-two bath affair located near the University of Texas at Austin campus. The building was brand new, and in fact, had not actually been completed when we arrived. The asking price? Fourteen hundred dollars a month.

For comparison's sake, one of my friends recently moved into a studio apartment in a very nice area of Los Angeles. A studio. As in no second bedroom, no full-size kitchen, no second bathroom, and no separate living room. The asking price? Fourteen hundred dollars a month.

Let's take a closer look at Jon's apartment:


Hey kids! Can you spot the three things in this photo that don't belong in a Los Angeles apartment? 1) The laundry machine. 2) The free fridge. 3) The wine rack.



The living room, with the kitchen in the background.


The kitchen. Note the marble counters and the modern appliances.


The living room. Note the polished concrete floor.


The shelves in the living room, and the door to Jon's bedroom.


Jon's bedroom. Sup ladies.


One of the two bathrooms.

The Hollywood Tooth

I was at the endodontist's office to check the status of a tooth that the doctor had repaired about nine months ago. It's impossible to evaluate the tooth visually, as the problematic area is inside the bones of my mouth; I don't have any symptoms, either, so an x-ray is necessary. So the doctor took an x-ray of my tooth, told me nothing had changed, and asked me to return in a year. She told me we won't know for a full year whether the tooth is healing properly - that's how slowly a tooth heals. So even if I were able to see the affected area (which I can't), I would still be unable to see any progress due to the glacial rate of change. And the first thing that popped into my head was: this tooth is an excellent allegory for Hollywood.

Pillow Crisis is on hiatus. We sent the treatment off to our contacts a few weeks ago, and proceeded to hear absolutely nothing from them. A week passed. Then another. Then another. Huili went through the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. I leveled up my characters in Final Fantasy Tactics. Another week passed. Finally, we decided to reinitiate contact: even if our contacts hated the thing, it would still be valuable to get the studio notes for use as a calibration tool.

Out contacts returned the message. They were really busy, and still hadn't read the entire treatment. However, they liked what they read a lot. I'm inclined to believe in the sincerity of the liking, but sincere liking is not exactly a primal motivation in this industry.

So we continue to wait. My career, like those of many others, is an extremely stable mixture of waiting and non-committal liking which may or may not precipitate into action.

In the meantime, I'm on to my next writing project: Lobsters vs. Butterflies. My intention is to finish this script within six months, which is an utterly laughable ambition, given my project history. But LvB has a simplicity and an energy that my other projects lacked, and I have a pretty good feeling that nine months is wholly doable. This was supposed to be my "easy" project, but if there's one thing I've learned from myself and other artists, it's this: there is never any such thing as an easy project. There will always be unforeseen difficulties. Already, LvB is requiring more research than I had anticipated, which implies a graduate student-like existence for myself. Admittedly, my graduate school is located in California and has very low graduation requirements, but still.

Rise From Your Grave

So I'm back from Dallas. One thing I've noticed about trips home is that time seems to pass more slowly when I'm there. I suspect this temporal phenomenon has much to do with the utter lack of responsibility I have to shoulder. Someone else cleans up, someone else does the groceries, someone else gets the mail.

My visit to Dallas seemed to be some sort of Zen koan revolving around the utter futility of making plans. My trip was originally scheduled to last only a week; just long enough to visit my parents and help my brother move into a new apartment in Austin. And then a ridiculous chain of events began to unfurl, straight out of the first act of a Hollywood road movie.

My youngest brother's apartment wasn't finished. So I spent a week longer in Austin, surviving off of microwaved fried chicken and biscuits, as the tardy contractors rushed to finish the project. We spent much of our time hanging out in a temporary condo, surrounded by unassembled, boxed Ikea furniture as we competed for high score in Metroid Prime Pinball. I also ate Thai fajitas while watching the sun set over Lake Travis, hung out in UT Austin's library, pondered the fashion choices of Austin coeds (they all dress like desperate housewives), and got to know my brother's girlfriend's pets: 2 cockatiels, a dog, and a hamster. For sheer comedic value, there is nothing quite like the sight of a dog playing with a hamster. If I ever wanted to know how a hamster expressed the notion, "WTF?!", that curiosity has been satisfied.

(One thing I can recommend in Austin is the bookstore Book People - it's easily one of my top five book shops of all time. You know how Barnes and Noble has little handwritten recommendation cards for about twenty volumes in the store? In Book People, every other book has a card like that.)

On our last day in Austin, my mom arrived to help us move into the new apartment. The three of us, along with Jon's roommate, set up an efficient assembly line, in accordance with the principle of division of labor developed by American industrial tycoon Eli Whitney. Together, we assembled a bedroom, a kitchen, and a living room's worth of furniture, all in about eight hours. This might very well be a record of some kind.

Then, as my mom and I drove back from Austin. We encountered a classic Texas thunderstorm. The kind of storm that may or may not erupt into a fullblown tornado. Visibility diminished to about a ten foot radius, allowing me to just barely make out the tail lights of the car before me and the headlights of the car behind. Lightning strikes were followed almost immediately by thunder, suggesting an extremely proximal storm center. The rain hammering on the car's roof was deafening. Simultaneously, all traffic on the interstate slowed to the pace of a funeral procession, as everyone switched on their hazard blinkers and their headlights. As we crawled beneath a massive, elaborate highway interchange, I saw torrents of water spouting off the freeways, incongruously reminiscent of tropical waterfalls. I pulled off the freeway, and we waited for about half an hour for the storm to wither. My mom, having glimpsed the Nintendo DS Lite, decided to play some Zoo Keeper, and I read a Scandinavian novel. In over a decade of driving, this was the very first time I've ever had to stop the car because of the weather. For some reason, it had been decided that I was to leave Austin as slowly as possible.

Then my mother decided to have back surgery. She's doing quite well, and the hospital discharged her early. I spent about a week in the hospital as she recuperated, eating surprisingly decent hospital cafeteria food and plowing through more of the Scandinavian novel. Meanwhile, my middle brother developed some strange ear malady. His earlobe swelled to the size of a walnut, and doctors were unable to ascertain the cause of the condition, and just preemptively decided to cut the ear open. So I spent a lot of time with my family, cleaned out much of my parents' garage, did some gardening, discovered a long lost cache of old video games, reached the halfway mark in Final Fantasy Tactics, and most importantly, began the outlining for my next story (more on this in a bit). Lobsters and butterflies have never been more exciting.

A pretty good vacation (from my preexisting vacation), all in all.

And now it's over. There's a been a sudden shift in the tone of my life upon my return; more urgency, more nervousness. Pillow Crisis is on hiatus (more on this in a bit), I'm beginning a brand new writing project, and I am opening serious and formal inquiries into recent individuals and events that have given me pause. It's an exciting time.

Once Again

Due to some unforseen circumstances, I find myself in Dallas AGAIN, and my departure date is indefinite. The timing is a bit inopportune, because my life was in the process of unraveling some pretty exciting plot threads, which will now hang for a few weeks while I enjoy 100 degree weather daily.

I came prepared, though, possessing the foresight to slip a copy of Final Fantasy Tactics, all my Netflix DVDs, and a few books into my suitcase. That should tide me over until the next Ice Age.

I didn't think my life could get any more mellow and relaxed, and yet here are some of the things I've been up to: leveling up my characters in FFT, dispensing ant poison, selling my college textbooks (for $65!), watering plants, buying cashmere sweaters, hanging out at Costco, donating old things to Goodwill. I also found this photograph, and thank goodness the developer timestamped it, because there was actually some confusion as to who (among myself and my brothers) is posing.

Some updates:

The Pillow Crisis is a day or two away from completion. Our project management software indicates that this milestone is over 90 days late. What can I say? The job was harder than we thought. But the story is in quite good shape, and I'm looking forward to seeing what the studios make of it.

A couple days before I left Los Angeles, I had the unique experience of pulling out of my garage, and swerving to avoid A HORSE. Some cowboy had pulled up his trailer, and let a white pony prance about in the street. Despite the fact that it was late in the evening, the dude was absolutely mobbed with young children, stengthening the case for ponies (over candy and trips to Disneyland) as the ultimate pedo bait.



The Los Angeles Metro has recently unveiled a new service for air travelers. The Flyaway bus provides nonstop, 24 hour service every half hour between downtown's Union Station and LAX, which allows me to hop on the subway and be at the airport in less than an hour. All for the mere pittance of $3, which is an astronomical savings over Supershuttle's asking price of $22. As if I needed any more excuse to visit Union Station, one of the most picturesque locations in all of Los Angeles. I was talking to a girl on the ride over, and she told me that the shuttle also provides service from LAX to Union Station. I said to her: "I think this bus is my NEW BEST FRIEND."

Fall is on its way, and that means it's time to rock some layers. I was in the store looking at sweaters, and noticed the last cardigan in my size was displayed on a mannequin. So I asked a sales clerk if I could try it on, my curiosity piqued by the issue of removing the garment from the display. The salesperson walked up to the mannequin, grabbed its arms, and with a kung-fu-like motion, dislocated both shoulders, peeled off the sweater, and handed it to me. It was a very sudden and surprising act of violence, one you wouldn't expect fo witness while shopping.

My favorite book store in Dallas is Half Price Books, which unfortunately does not have any branches in southern California. A couple reasons why I love this place:

• 1) They pay cash on the barrelhead for old books with the speed and justice of Amoeba Records.
  
  
• 2) I found a beautiful first edition copy of one of my favorite novels: Haruki Murakami's The Wind Up Bird Chronicles. It was sitting on the shelf with a sticker price of $10. I've been looking for this book for ages, and let me tell you something: you simply don't find this book for less than $100, and the prices go as high as $1500 for a signed copy.
  
  
• 3) As I was paying my purchases, I noticed that the sales clerk was wearing a very unusual necklace. Oh wait - it wasn't a necklace; it was a Konoha forehead protector from the Hidden Leaf Village. Now that I'm into Naruto, I can't get away from Naruto. So me and the clerk talked about the Nine-Tail Fox, and she's clearly a bigger fan than myself, because she's seen more episodes than me, and downloaded them all over DIAL-UP.

August Third

David writes:

Happy Birthday, you old motherfucker! I don't know exactly how old you are now, but it's aged. Congratulations on living so long!

Regards, Dave

Fiscal Report: July 2006

Well, somehow I ended up spending a lot more this month and I'm not sure how. I think it's a combination of buying more food, yoga, and going to Comic-con. This is my smallest surplus yet.

UNDER BUDGET SPENDING CATEGORIES

Unallocated: $186.89
Dining Out: $24.63
Entertainment: 8.71

Total: $220.23 under budget

San Diego Comic-Con

This is the view from the Pacific Surfliner Train as you roll to and from San Diego.

Downtown San Diego is what happens when you leave the Crate& Barrel in charge of urban planning. It's filled with restaurants and nightclubs that are so tastefully decorated, you want to kill yourself out of the boredom. Two pretty good restaurants to check out: Ch1ve, a restaurant so pretentious it uses numbers as surrogates for vowels (I didn't just have fries, I had spicy feta cheese shoestring fries), and Rama, a Thai place with excellent decor and decent food.

I found San Diego's pedicab subculture fascinating. It's something I haven't noticed in any other American city: immigrants from some indeterminate Central/Eastern European nation (they always have thick accents) pedaling bicycle taxis through the streets of San Diego for exoribtant prices.
You even have female pedicab drives, which is pretty amazing and unexpected in and of itself.

The best days to go to Comic Con are Wednesday and Thursday. By the time the convention hits Friday, pedestrian traffic inside the convention center resembles a pedestrian version of the 405 freeway. It took me about ten minutes to walk from one end of the floor to the other on Friday, which was compounded by the definite, inescapable man-stench about the event.

The show floor is a melting pot of corporate commerce, indie artists, vintage pornography, and obsessive nerdery. It's a much more overwhelming experience to sensory faculties than even E3, which is simply a collection of large media conglomerates showing off their home stereo systems.

I attended a panel on Star Trek, in which an eleven-year-old boy asked the show's creators about slight differences in the visual effects of phasers in two different episodes of Star Trek: Voyager. Star Trek fans never disappoint.

For research, I saw the pilot of the new NBC series "Heroes". It was solidly mediocre, although the Japanese otaku-telekinetic has some funny moments.

It's definitely worth your time to walk through the rows of indie artists who have set up shop on the convention floor. You'll most likely discover something you like - I picked up quite a few indie comics at the show, and while they're not completely successful, they all contain at least a few interesting ideas.

Somehow, American culture has meandered from the Great American Novel to the Great American Screenplay, and now, to the Great American Comic Book. I spend plenty of time reading novels, watching movies, and I am impressed by the surplus of young comic book writers who have interesting ideas, and actual stories to include them in. It's a medium that isn't drowning in its own orthodoxy and pretentions, and allows young writers to grow and develop their talents. I don't think I've ever read anything by Brian K. Vaughn that actually works as a story, but I don't know if I'll be saying the same thing five years from now.

Surprisingly, the most popular cosplay character isn't any Marvel or DC superhero, but rather various characters from a certain hidden village in the country of fire. Naruto is such a juggernaut that he singlehandedly takes up an eighth of the convention center floor. Judging from the massive array of Naruto merchandise on offer in its booth, the Mattel corporation owes its current solvency to Mr. Uzumaki, it seems. Anime chicks love wearing the Konoha forehead protector in the style of Sakura. Surprisingly, nobody dresses up as Naruto himself, probably owing to the extremely loud orange jumpsuit that he is always attired in.

Barbeque in South Central Los Angeles

One of the nice things about not doing the job thing is that you get invited to more social gatherings. The surge of invitations is due mostly to the brazen assumption that you are always available.

And guess what? You are. I've gone to more parties in the past three months than in the entire year preceding them.

Tonight I found myself gnawing at a pile of baby back ribs in the parking lot of Phillip's BBQ in south central Los Angeles, as a group of folks gathered underneath the tailgate of someone's Mercedes SUV.

Phillip's BBQ is such an exceptional (for LA) joint that they can completely omit any seating space - the restaurant consists of two windows: ordering and pick up. There's a sign next to the ordering window that reads: "Yes, the hot sauce is really hot." You can get the obligatory ribs and pulled pork with said hot sauce, or opt for a mild one or a mixture. And they have an intriguing array of uniquely Southern desserts on offer as well, including 7up Cake and Sock It To Me Cake. You know the place is authentic when you can smell the place before you can see it - heck, you can even see the place before you can see it, due to the thick plumes of smoke rising from the smokestack.

In south central, everyone seems to know each other, or at least act as if they do. Everyone greets everyone else with a surprising degree of familiarity - the security guard for the parking lot, the homeless guy, the lady in line in front of us, the random customer pulling up in a Cadillac. Despite what you see on the evening news, it's a friendlier place than the rest of Los Angeles. At least in the vicinity of Phillip's, anyway.

Packing For San Diego

I am charging four peripherals at once: phone, camera, iPod, DS. There's something weird about that.

I'm headed for the world's largest comic book convention, Comic-Con. Having never been to one of these things before, I'm really not sure what to expect.

I'm particularly excited about taking the train back from San Diego to Union Station; I haven't done that since... a very long time ago. And Sea World is close to the hotel - so that's a definite possibility.

When I return, I should have at least a few photos, and a series of somewhat contemplative posts:

• Living in Los Angeles


• Writing the Hollywood Blockbuster


• A Recap of this Experiment in Living

Nerding It Up and Dorking Out

Recently, I was trying to decide which writing project to pursue during the downtime of my primary writing project, Pillow Crisis. I finally settled on a project (one of three I have on the backburner) called Lobsters Vs. Butterflies. This was a decision fraught with consequence, so I was somewhat uncertain of tmy course. But impelled by no small amount of synchronicity, I made a choice and sided with the Nephropidae and the Papilionoidea.

A month or so later, it's becoming increasingly evident that I made the right decision. Other projects would have required research of an intensive nature, utterly exhausting any residual powers of concentration unconsumed by Pillow Crisis. Many dry primary historical accounts, many creaky old genre movies with shopworn cliches.

Lobsters vs. Butterflies, however, merely requires that I do what I do best.

That is, nerd it up and dork out.

Impossibly Nerdy/Dorky Things Done In The Name of Researching This Script

Events: Comic-Con in San Diego (July) - the world's largest comic book convention. My room is subsidized and my meals are paid for, and I have a free ride down. That's my excuse.

Hardware: In order to facilitate the enjoyment of a Dungeons & Dragons(!) game called Baldur's Gate 2, I recently reformatted a computer hard drive and installed an obsolete operating system (Windows 2000); along the way, I adjusted some CMOS settings, and attempted to flash a motherboard BIOS. You know, just to remind myself why my newest computer is an Apple.

And to play the fourth installment of a video game series - one that concerns not the overwhelming problem of global evil, but rather the more manageable quandry of residential evil - I endeavored to repair my roommate's Nintendo Gamecube, which has been broken for over a year. This involved melting a Bic pen and molding it into the shape of a proprietary screwbit screwdriver, disassembling the console, and adjusting a LASER POTENTIOMETER. Amazingly, I did it, but I don't know how long this Gamecube will live on borrowed time, especially given the intermittent and spooky clicking noises it makes.

Television: Buffy the Vampire Slayer - so far, watching this show is like being stuck in a trigonometry class full of annoying chicks who spend the hour comparing brands of tampons. I really don't want to be there. But I've made an agreement to watch at least the first 48 episodes, so what can I do?

Also... OMFGNaruto!!!11 ^_^ I can say two things about this show, having watched SEVENTY-TWO episodes. One, it's easily the greatest cartoon I've ever seen in my life. Two, I will no doubt watch at least 60 more episodes before I give it up. In order to do so, I joined Narutofan.com, which charges the mere pittance of five dollars a month in order to provide access to unlimited downloads of Naruto effluvia.

Comic Books: The Long Haul, Runaways, Powers, and countless other comics you've never, ever heard of. I am bidding on lots of old comic books on eBay, and I don't even read comics.

Video Games: Resident Evil 4, Red Dead Revolver, Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow. Well, this isn't so bad. You could probably find some frat boys somewhere playing the same stuff.

Dude, I could make the scariest Myspace page ever.

Purpose and Intention

Today the bikini lady yoga instructor asked me to demonstrate the upside-down "L" pose for the entire class. About the L pose: I suspect, despite a severe lack of foreshadowing from my instructor, that this pose is preperation for a full-on handstand. It involves coming onto your hands and knees, and then walking your feet up the wall, forming the aforementioned inverted consonant with your body.

I was somewhat apprehensive abou my instructor's request for several reasons. First of all, I'm not accustomed to performing any act of physicality before an audience. Secondly, the instructor usually recruits some incredibly limber chick wearing Hard Tail pants to demo a pose, which is an arrangement I much prefer, quite frankly. Lastly, I only learned to do the L pose about two weeks ago. It's absolute murder on your hands and arms.

But I agreed to demonstrate, and I was able to slowly walk up and down the wall without losing my balance. I was rock solid, in fact. And as I was performing, the instructor said:

"Look, do you see his hands? They are filled with purpose and intention!"

That's right, y'all - my hands are vessels bearing the catalysts for action. (Like Naruto!)

(There's actually a very pragmatic reason why I spread my hands shoulder-length apart and flatten my palms. Because if I don't, the L pose is going to hurt like hell.)

I'd say I'm about a month or so away from doing the first handstand of my life.

Little French Girls Love Pillow Crisis <3 <3 <3

So the latest (well, the latest that I can tell you about) on the Pillow Crisis front is that Huili pitched the story to a 12-year-old French girl who's a big Harry Potter fan.

Imagine Huili pitching, in Spanish, a story written in English to a girl whose native language is French.

She loved it, and more importantly, shared our belief in the coolness of our favorite characters and moments. That's a huge relief, as we slowly whittle the number of unanswered questions to an integer that can be counted on one hand.

Much bigger and more regular updates regarding my life and everything beginning tomorrow.

Reasons Not To Move to New York

Street fair on Amsterdam Ave. These street fairs shut down traffic.

1) Public Transit Really Doesn't Save You That Much Money

Public transit was supposed to be New York's saving grace financially, the one reliable method of saving money in the city. A monthly subway pass pretty much covers it, right?

No. Sometimes there's subway construction and your stop is closed. Sometimes you want to go crosstown and the buses are too slow. Sometimes you're carrying something expensive and you don't want to take a late night subway. All of the above means your ass is taking a cab at around ten bucks a pop. Transportation costs in New York easily equal or surpass my $90 / month gasoline budget here in LA (and by the way, I haven't come close to spending that much since I quit my job).

But you're still not paying auto insurance, you point out. True, but any savings on auto insurance are cancelled out by the increase in rent.

And I haven't even gotten to higher cost of living yet. What kind of economy asks me to pay $1.75 for a bottle of Vitamin Water?

Perfect fatality, Los Angeles. S+ rank. Would you like to continue, New York?


2) My New York Roster Will Lose Many Key Players To Free Agency

My time in New York was such that I literally didn't have to make any plans. Everyday I'd wake up, and I'd get a text message or a phone call from somebody telling me where to be at a specified time. Then I'd eat whatever food had been decided on by other parties. This worked out quite well, as I got to see a great deal of the city in a relatively short period of time.

It's certainly easy to have a good time in New York when you have a deep bench of friends in the city. But starting in about a year, I'd say this thick posse is going to be halved, with people departing for new careers and new lives. My friend George says this is a staging ground for people on the way to their actual lives. For half my friends in New York, he's right.



Danielle walking across the Brooklyn Bridge.


3) I Can Live In New York, But Can I Work In New York?

I like New York. Some parts of the city (such as my friend Danielle's neighborhood in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn) have a sense of community you'd never get in Los Angeles. You don't have to drive, and you're surrounded by lots of fun old stuff - museums and books and buildings.

On the other hand, the city is beginning to feel like a time capsule of itself - kind of like Paris. You just get the lingering, uneasy sense that New York's most exciting days are behind it. I love many writers and artists from the city, but I have absolutely no desire to be part of that tradition, which I suspect is beginning to diminish anyway. There wasn't a single author from New York among the books I purchased from the Strand. And the Whitney Biennial couldn't find enough American (read: New York) artists this year, so they threw it open to the internationals. This is all anecdotal, but still.

Also, it's not a quiet place, and that's kind of a prerequisite for my job. Yes, I am aware that I can seek quiet in New York, but that's not exactly the same thing.

What I'm saying is, it doesn't really feel like a place where I would write.

Fiscal Report: June 2006

Man, I was THIS close to not buying any clothing at all this month. Then I saw a ten dollar messenger bag at Urban Outfitters, (even the sale is on sale!), so it all went to hell. What's worse, I went to another party last night and some girl was like, "Nice bag!" And that's not helping at all.

Also, when you don't commute to work, you save a lot of money on fuel.

With all these massive surpluses, I've clearly overbudged a bit. A wise strategy, because here come some brand new monthly expenses.

NEW MONTHLY EXPENSES

Unlimited Yoga Classes at the Center for Hot Moms: $90 a month
Increase in Health Insurance Premium: $15 a month
Netflix Upgrade to 4 Out at A Time: $12 a month

I don't add new debits to the monthly budget lightly, so rest assured that these are justified. Yoga is a bit pricey, but bear in mind that I attend classes five days a week, and that I can cancel the plan at any time. For comparison's sake, a ten class series at the same studio costs about $110. Netflix is crucial for research, and the four out plan allows me to spend more time watching movies, and less time waiting by my mailbox. And without health insurance, how could I care for all the infants I've fathered out of wedlock?

UNDER BUDGET SPENDING CATEGORIES

Unallocated: $170.00
Dining Out: $105.06
Clothing: $49.50
Auto Fuel: $96.98
Phone: $30.00

Total: $451.51 under budget

Fierce Grape

Photo by Flickr user Walsh.

A brief snapshot of everything that is happening right now:

• The Bruce Wayne regimen has commenced. Five days of yoga. and three days of weights a week. Some running, too. It's going well, but I haven't needed this much electrolyte replacement since I was in high school lacrosse. Time to buy some Gatorade. Some FIERCE GRAPE perhaps?


• Lots of secret activity. Secret projects with secret collaborators. A secret workout partner (wow, that sounds so very gay). Super secret movement on the Pillow Crisis front. It's like my life is an episode of Naruto.


• Pillow Crisis is definitely taking its toll. Closing the last thousand yards on this project is agonizing. Here is what every morning is like: I wake up, I roll out of bed, make some eggs, and then sit down for a four hour chat with Huili. Ugh. Oh wait. That still sounds way better than the job I quit. I WIN.


• Have been spending much time marvelling at the remarkable similarities between Uzumaki Naruto's life and my own. Also noting how appropriate that theme song is in serving as background music to my day.


• Some warning shots being fired across my bow by destiny right now. Like Busta Rhymes says: pay attention.


• As research for a script, I conducted a great interview with a former employee of a prominent offline dating service, and have some truly horrifying stories now. In short, don't join one. It's no better than chance. The social humiliation you'll endure by striking up an awkward conversation with a stranger off the street is nothing compared to what you'll face with a dating service.


• Have been absolutely devouring media at a rate I haven't seen since Lower School Book Club. I put Naruto on hiatus to finish off the entire run of Cowboy Bebop, am about to begin the entire 144 episode run of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (don't ask), am watching about four movies a week, and finishing a book every week or so. There's just too much good stuff out there.


• Went to a party and swept the room, which is defnitely a first. By swept, I mean I talked to every individual with whom I wanted to, uh, talk. Must have spent five hours working my way through the place. Kind of exhausting, though, to be that engaged for that long. I did pretty well, though. Got compliments on my biceps and my shoes. Got hit on by attractive members of both sexes, so I guess whatever I'm doing, it's working.


• Gave some Naruto episodes to Mark. Gave some to Brian. Am forming Los Angeles Naruto Fan Club (proposed name: Hidden Larchmont Village). Naruto, Naruto, Naruto!!!

Ringtone No Jutsu

Hay guys! OK its time to talk about the best anime EVAR, NARUTO!!!11

Naturo is liek so def better than harry potter and buffy and fallout boys combined, cuz he ROX!! hahaha am i rite?

Naruto is a student at ninja school in japan which is a real place my cousin goes there. he is from hidden leaf village and he knows all these jutsus that's jp for technique. he can even turn himself into a naked lady LOLZ

girls suck at being ninjas btw thats why Sakura cant do crap in any episode ever. but she is hot so its ok

HERE IS TEH MAIN NARUTO SONG

Song: Naruto Main Theme [Excerpt] (MP3)

Daaaaaaamnn the Naruto theme is sooo CRUNK hahaha

Check it here is a ringtone I made so you can put on yr cell.

Ringtone: Naruto Main Theme (MP3)

Here is another ringtone I made plz dl it

Ringtone: The Raising Fighting Spirit (MP3)

Ringtone: Turn Over (MP3)

This is the song they play whenev Naruto is making a comeback and you think he died but he's all liek oh no i didn't here i am im Uzumaki Naruto!

oh and i made another ringtone

Ringtone: Bad Situation (MP3)

This is when the bad guy ninjas are gonna jutsu Naruto and you are hoping Naruto will pwn them. and then he does and the bad guys are like what

Brooklyn

Danielle is a stalwart defender of Brooklyn, and so she spent much of our time together showing me the virtues of living in the borough.

We walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, and then stopped at the local Coop for snacks, and then took in the sky at Prospect Park. Quite an impressive sky for New York City - voluminous enough to give you the momentary sensation of living somewhere quieter and greener than New York.

The Coop is a completely foreign concept to someone raised in Dallas, home of the most beautiful strip malls in the world. So I'll try to explain it. Essentially, much of the markup in Ralph's prices comes from 1) good old fashioned capitalism and 2) the cost of processing, storing, sorting and selling products. The Coop neatly sidesteps both; it's owned and run by the neighborhood residents.

In order to earn the right to shop at the Coop, you have to commit to work there a few hours of month, during which you might cut wheels of cheese into wedges, or sort bags of trail mix. Owing to the strident community spirit that is rampant in Brooklyn, there is actually a waiting list to work at the Coop. That's right - you have to wait a few months before you can work at the grocery store, so that you can be allowed to buy groceries. This would never fly in Texas.



But the payoff is sublime. The prices are unbeatable, even in the mass-market items, and the choice of gourmet items is easily comparable to Whole Foods. I bought a large bag of the best raisins I've ever had for a dollar. Danielle showed me a large packet of handgrown spice being sold for fifty cents. My favorite European cookies were being sold at a price I've never ever seen.

Is there a downside to the Coop? Most definitely. The store is small and crowded by supermarket standards, and the checkout procedure is arcane in the manner of an Eastern European motor vehicles bureau.

But you can't argue with the prices, and the warm and fuzzy feeling of defending your municipality against the onslaught of self-checkout machines and privacy-invading discount cards is definitely a plus.

Personally, the Coop's selection is more suited for those who spend a lot of time cooking. For someone (such as myself) who is a mere dilletante in the kitchen, Trader Joe's still represents the best balance between gourmet offerings and convenience.

Whitney Biennial 2006

The Whitney Biennial is meant to anthologize the most significant American artists currently producing work that is of the moment. But mainly, it serves as a public relations instrument for the Whitney museum - the show seems to generate more press for the institution than the selected artists.

I interned for the Whitney when I was in college, a fact I opportunistically mentioned when standing in line for tickets. The clerk was kind enough to comp me, and so in I went, accompanied by my friends Matt, Brett, and Brett's boyfriend.

The Biennial curators included international artists in the roster this year, a significant choice given that the museum is dedicated to showcasing American artists. Whether this event was an an outlier in the annals of American art history, or a portent of a slow decline in American art was not something I could determine.

That uncertainty didn't prevent Matt from issuing his initial assessment of the show: "Dude, this is fucking art school." I had to agree - most of the pieces felt conceptually dubious. There were barely any memorable works, but I am proud to have captured some completely illegal video of one by Paul Chan called "1st Light".

You have to tilt your head to the left in order to view the video with the proper orientation, as I am covertly filming it by palming my digital camera. What you're looking at is a projection on the floor meant to depict the shadows falling through a bedroom window on a moonlit night.

Life Happens Pretty Fast

Apologies for the paucity of posts lately - life has been fairly full and busy lately. No chance of a slow fadeout on the blog, since 1) I've never successfully kept a journal, and have always regretted it and 2) There is no shortage of topics to write about.

Huili and I have been spending my afternoons and his late nights talking for five hours a day, trying to sweep up all the loose threads in the Pillow Crisis outline. If I didn't have a good number of years of writing experience, I'd want to kill myself.

I've also been automating my work flow, using a combination of high-end productivity software. I'm more machine than man, now: twisted and evil.

Meanwhile, a number of unlikely and surprising possibilities have bubbled up lately:

• taking a public speaking course with MBA students from the Marshall School at USC
  


• infiltrating the inner-workings of one of most prominent offline dating services in the country


• acquiring the film rights to someone else's intellectual property

I keep saying that I can't believe this is my life, but dude, seriously.

A Fork In The Road

So the Pillow Crisis outline is nearing completion. It's looking quite lean and mean, and I think we've got something quite special herre. The movie appears to be greater than the sum of its two co-writers, which is the best possible outcome for a collaboration.

Meanwhile, the Academy's screenwriting competition (the Nicholl) is in early May 2007, and assuming that I am eligible for entry at that time, I intend to win it this year. That gives me ten-and-a-half months to complete two scripts. Pillow Crisis (none of these titles is real) is obviously one of them, but I need an additional project to occupy the downtime. PC is a project that happens in fits and starts, due to the fact that the co-writers live in different countries and one is raising a young child.

I have spent the past year assuming that my next project would be Waxahachie Air, a work of historical fiction. But synchronicity - in the form of my friends' collective opinion and random encounters with apposite media - suggests that I instead write the most ridiculous idea I've ever had. A movie that can be pitched in three words, and combines two of my most gleefully juvenile preoccupations: Lobsters vs. Butterflies.

The utterly puerile nature of Lobsters Vs. Butterflies seems to suggest a simpler story to write. It draws upon very classical archetypes and stories, which makes the job a little easier. It certainly doesn't require as much research as Waxahachie Air, although it will still require a lot. But the research will be more fun.

What gives me pause is that Waxahachie Air is clearly an easier sale to Hollywood. On the other hand, I think it's quite likely that WA won't be ready for showtime by May 2007, especially given the pace at which Pillow Crisis is moving. PC is going to be a huge time sink.

Lobsters vs. Butterflies feels like something I can have fun with and more importantly, get done quickly. I would be more than a little disappointed to emerge from 2006 with only one complete script, and looking at my current timetable, PC and LvB fit snugly (but not tightly) in the calendar.

But predicting what your writing experience is going to be on a script is near impossible, in my experience.

Monday Update

Last Week (or Two)

• Eight movies, eight episodes of Band of Brothers, 20 episodes of Naruto, four novels


• Resumed weight-training three times a week


• Met with collaborators on side project


• Phase One of apartment spring cleaning


• Pillow Crisis outlining - I say this every week, but we are really THIS close


• eBay auctions to fund Asia and Europe excursions - profit: $100/hr.


• Went to stylist's house(!) to have hair cut in living room

This Week

• Resume yoga classes after month-long hiatus due to travel and weight training


• Six movies and one book


• Commence new writing project to be completed during Pillow Crisis downtime


• Side project brainstorming


• Second and possibly final round of eBay auctions - projected profit: $30/hr


• Follow up with director who requested my script


• Phase Two of apartment spring cleaning


• Learn how to use OmniOutliner Pro software so I can stop abusing bullet points like a game designer

New York Restaurant Roundup

A roundup of eateries I dined at in New York:

Beard Papa (recommended by me)
Japanese Cream Puffs - Various Locations
Surprisingly, few of my friends had tried this, despite the fact that Beard Papa has been open at several locations in NY for over a year now. So I took it upon myself to introduce them to the delicacy known as the Japanese cream puff. Beard Papa is a popular chain imported directly from Tokyo, and their puffs consist of a creamy custard, sweetened to perfection, injected into a delicate and flaky puff. Just the smell of the place upon entering is enough to keep you coming back. Just be careful not to inhale the powdered sugar.

Peanut Butter and Co. (recommended by Danielle)
Peanut Butter & Jelly - Greenwich Village
Ok, let's get the obvious out of the way first. Would you like something other than a peanut butter (and jelly) sandwich? This is NOT your place. But there is something to be said for specialization. I can wholeheartedly recommend the Elvis - peanut butter, bananas, honey, and bacon, grilled on two pieces of wheat. Paying $7 for PB & J seems a bit precious, though.

Veselka (recommended by Danielle)
Ukrainian - East Village
Ukrainian food for hipsters having a post-club snack. Los Angelenos, think Swingers, but with pirogis and stuffed cabbage and borscht. My first time having all three, as well as my first time imbibing the New York institution known as the Lime Rickey.

Bombay Frankie Roti Roll (recommended by Matt)
Fast Indian - Morningside Heights
Now this is one of those things that gives NY an edge over LA. (Don't get uppity New Yorkers - we don't have to take a number here just to ENTER Trader Joe's - we just walk right in like we own the place.) Fast Indian food - brilliant! Imagine a non-fried samosa burrito thingy filled with chicken (marinated in cream and spices) or spiced potatoes and sweet peas. All for less than four bucks.

Good Enough To Eat (recommended by George)
Comfort Food - Upper West Side
According to George, this is one of the top ten places to eat breakfast in the United States. The menu consists of exceptionally well-executed breakfast staples - nothing too fancy here. I had the turkey hash with eggs, and thought it was just about perfect.

Taam-Tov (recommended by Matt)
Uzbek - Diamond District
Chicken schvarma so tender it just falls apart in your mouth, releasing its subtle flavors in the process. Good stuff.

Shake Shack (recommended by Matt)
Burgers & Shakes - Madison Square Park
A faux-retro roadside stand located in the middle of a diminutive city park. Often cited as the best burger in New York, but Fairway is better, so whatever with that. The burgers and fries are decent, but the shakes and the frozen custard - in an impressive array of flavors - are incredible.

Fairway Cafe (recommended by Matt)
Supermarket Steakhouse - Upper West Side
This is a fancy steakhouse on the second floor of a supermarket. They serve a pretty damn good $12 burger, served on brioche with some excellent fries. We're talking the thick and juicy patty, not the thin and crispy variety that some people tend to favor. Best of all, they cook the thing medium rare, which I'm not sure is even legal anymore. But damn the law - this is my burger we're talking about.


Edit: a few last minute additions.

107 West(recommended by Matt)
Yuppie Southern food - Upper West Side

Tomo Sushi and Sake
Yuppie Japanese - Upper West Side

Queen of Sheba
Yuppie Ethiopian - Hell's Kitchen