Friday, July 7, 2017

Tender Mercies

I understand and accept that we are not normally in control of our dreams, but I really wish one day to learn how to do so.  Besides the obvious (wet dreams, something I still have never achieved even at this age), I could avoid the dreams I had recently.

One involved Voldemort, the guy who first tore my heart out, emotionally abused me every chance he got, and basically turned me from what I was told a "fun guy who could be obnoxiously hilarious but maybe is not for all tastes, and has a good heart" to "constantly sad, depressed, drunk."  I started having dreams about V again recently, as a job opening I was perfect for was near the major city near him.

That sounds like the corny, never-use line for a cover letter.  "I was born for this job!!!"  But I was, in this case.  Everything they asked for, I had in spades.  A great city, one that I love, and would love to live in, with one of the most awesome comic book stores in the world, and one that practically every musical act I'd actually pay to see stops by for every tour.

I didn't even bother applying.  They hired some guy out of Salt Lake, who sucks... not in comparison to me, just plain sucks.  There was a molecularly sufficient chance that I would run into He Who Must Not Be Named, even though I never go to bars anymore, or socialize much.  Even the smallest chance, so I didn't go for the perfect gig.

Soon after the job opening posted, the dreams/nightmares began, of him creeping into my life again.  The one this week, I had some control over.  He talked to me, talked about old times, remarked how much he'd missed me, much like the last time we tried to be friends again.  This time, I ignored him, and did not reply.  It did not frustrate his dream spectre, like I hoped it would, but the point is, I ignored him with contempt and never spoke to him. Probably the most satisfying nightmare I've had, honestly.

The dream last night, however, was not as satisfying. 

Friday, June 23, 2017

Job Search

The job search continues.

Since January, I have been producing podcast dramas for a company out of Los Angeles.  This is incredibly fun.  It seems I am good at pacing my music, dialogue, and sound effects, which is something I knew already, but is a quiet different beast when it's a podcast production where the final product is anywhere from one hour to two hours long.  It pays pretty decent, considering it's really just part time and I'm pretty much producing in my skivvies in my brother's house.

They are a growing company.  It is possible that they might eventually hire me full-time, but whether I'd want to live in Los Angeles, much less the west coast again, is not something I've thought of much.

Another job lead would allow me to also work from home, but it's not something I can talk about in a way that I can't even talk about why I can't talk about it.  But it, coupled with my ongoing podcast project, would keep me from having to uproot everything again, and would solve any financial hardships coming my way.

There are other opportunities, but I am loathe to discuss them as I'm sure my stalker still monitors any and everything I do.  I really don't understand that guy.  There's nothing remotely interesting or attractive about me to that degree, nothing that would make anybody in their right mind want to stalk me.  And there we go--that's the answer.  He's not in his right mind.  Luckily, everybody still in Texas is aware of this.

I am of course not superstitious, but it seems to me when as many job opportunities as have arisen in the last month pop up, all at the same time, it usually means one of those is meant for me.  Four possibilities I have applied for would allow me to work from home.  Three would require me to move, again... Texas (ugh no, not because of PityPartySadfaceStalker, but because Houston, ick), Florida (not really my bag but I'd be working with an old boss, which would be cool), and... St. Louis.

So I don't know how to feel about that last one.

But I do have a full-time (if temp) job lined up for a few months starting in a couple of weeks.  It would be tedious, but it would get me straight with my finances.

I should have just learned computer coding.  Seems any idiot with fully functioning fingers can do that (even when they're addicted to meth).  Anyway.

Back to work.

Monday, March 6, 2017









>2.6 ms












Sunday, October 23, 2016

Let's hold off on doing the Time Warp again for a bit

Where the remake went wrong:

Well, first and possibly most important, it was too polished.  The original had a feel of, "OK this is good but it needs something more, hey here's a severed moose head I found in Wardrobe, let's put that somewhere" kind of thing going.  Maybe that's not how it was, but it was how it felt, and that was what was appealing.

And trying to one-up the original is wrong.  You won't match Tim Curry's Frank, don't try to (this is just an example and not a criticism, as I don't think Ms. Cox tried to match or even emulate, she just did her own interpretation, and I really had no problem with that).  One thing I would point to as an example is the Rocky Horror Punk Rock Show, a CD I came across many years ago, and while not a shining example (punk rock shouldn't ever be that anyway, except for Return of the Living Dead, whiich is), was the feel I was hoping to get from this.  Instead... polish polish polish.

Also... should today's Rocky (the creature) be less chiseled than the one from 1975?  Did nobody on the crew know about anabolic steroids, or did they really want a Rocky that looked like he occasionally went to Carl Jr's for lunch?

But the main problem was that there was no interaction with the audience.  When we go to the theatre and see RHPS, we are part of the experience.  Who ever forgets that first time you shouted out a riff that nobody had ever thought of, and got laughs?  It wouldn't have been easy, admittedly... whether they hosted servers for people to log into to riff live, or just a text crawl like MST3K used to occasionally do.  There was simply nothing to invest in as an audience except just WATCHING, and I'm sorry but I've downloaded the new Black Mirror and would rather watch that.

Columbia's hair was fun though, and I thought the new take on fishnets was quite a cool idea.  

Saturday, August 27, 2016

Coming from behind, Butt Fiction (oops wait)

So talking about the Butt Fiction backstory (i.e. TR finding to his glee that the Fayette Mall Food Court sold beer on Sundays) got me thinking about another time with Teddy, where we did go to Hooters afterwards, all the way back in a snowy day of 1995 to watch 12 Monkeys.
This was a good example of why you should never underestimate somebody, because I knew little enough about the movie except a.) it was based a short French film, which is never a good sign, b.) it was a Terry Gilliam film, which always means the audience has to think, and c.) and d.) which I will come up with later.
I totally expected TR to sleep through it and indulge me, as I would indulge him with titties later.
IIRC, we were in Lexington to actually go to Hooters first and THEN the movie, but we got there early enough to get a matinee. Or a manatee. No, it was definitely a matinee, although if I was still driving that old Ford truck at the time we could have taken a manatee also.
The reason I still love the movie so much after all these years, besides the memories of seeing it with TR at the time, is that it treats two subject matters in the absolute correct way. One, time travel. Even if traveling through time was possible (sorry fellow Whovians, it's not), manipulating and changing past events would not be. I can go into why some other time, but I knew this already going into the theatre.
Something I didn't know at the time, however, is how your memories fuck with you. Think of it: how many times have you almost resorted to fisticuffs arguing over a memory you ABSOLUTELY know is true, yet somebody else who was also there contradicts it, because their recollection is ABSOLUTELY true and is in fact the correct one so fuck you?
That statement got away from me.
My point is, memory likes to play silly buggers with all of us. It's not a video recording we play back later; it is an amalgam of the actual event, but also feelings we have had about similar situations, and other related memories and facts we know about the world, and what ice cream we last had, and why do people in the NE of our country hate soft-serve so much when you can get it dipped in chocolate, and on and on with other things that don't matter that get all mushed up because our brains are still not smarter than our phones, where we can catch invisible imaginary animals in tiny imaginary prison-balls, whom we summon to fight other imaginary animals in events that are only *slightly* less goofy than "Professional Wrestling."
(I make fun of that in the utmost respect for the business, because when I met John Cena while living in Boston, I looked at him and said to myself "this little nerd is a wrestling superstar?" He was tiny. BUT, it was probably off-season, or between PPV fights, besides what does it matter, Alfalfa from The Little Rascals could probably kick my ass. Note: He was still very, very hot. Cena I mean, not Alfalfa.)
Sorry, typing with one hand is distracting, I got away from my point (well, not all of them, but shut up Kenny). James Cole, played as an adult by Bruce Willis, keeps having flashbacks about the terrorists in the airport when he was a kid. And as the story goes along, the terrorists change with time, each memory being different. Every flashback showed a different villain from young James Cole's eyes, until he finally realizes HE is the terrorist that he, as a child, saw, and realizes in his last breaths that he'd seen his own death as a child.
Oh. Spoilers, sorry. Also, the Enterprise blows up and it was all a dream by Patrick Duffy.
So I left and got in my truck (because driving a parking lot's length was TOO MUCH for my fat ass at the time, I mean, we didn't even have Pokemon Go back then, was I supposed to walk all the way across a parking lot *for my health*?) and we went to Hooters. I totally expected Teddy to just try to get laid or at least look at titties non-stop, but, after placing our orders (mine is always the cheese-steak sandwich and curly fries), he could not shut the fuck up about how much he loved the movie. And he got it, completely (well, at the time, I am sure he's forgotten the movie by now).
Also he looked at titties.

Saturday, February 13, 2016

I've reached a New Low


It doesn't even sound like a proper weight.  280, yes, 265, yes, but not 270.  I think I have some form of triskadelaphobia or whatever it's called...  irrational fear of certain numbers.  I remember 28... it felt wrong and I didn't know why.  28 was not an age.

Also, black eye.  Fell flat on my face TO THE FUCKING FLOOR tripping over a broom that had fallen into the floor.  It caused a cut over my eye that made me look like a crime scene.  I used a whole Swiffer tampon cleaning it up!

Keifer Sutherland passed by my studio and waved and said "Hi buddy" to me yesterday.  All the girls in the news section were acting like president showed up.  He's not as tall as Jack Bauer.  But from what I heard (since my studio has no real sound proofing) he's a really good guy.

Passed a kidney stone, I think.

Saturday, December 19, 2015

So, yeah.  280.  If not for the fact that it doesn't run in my family, I would worry that I caught The Sugar, i.e. diabeetus.  But no, as much as my doctor can't believe a fatty like me can have proper insulin absorption, I can.

My time off will get me back here just in time for the big Sketch comedy thingsirmadoodle.  I forgot what it's called, but MARIA BAMFORD will be here!!!

In other news... RIP Amanda... sad now.  Oh.  Spoilers.