I have a little movie project in the works at the moment. To sum it up, it's kind of a mockumentary comedy film about a fictional county in America that secedes from the US and becomes it's own nation, run by an eccentric dictator and his team of advisors and military personnel. It's sort of The Office meets The Last King of Scotland, if you can picture that.
Anyway, aside from my lack of decent camera equipment and a location to shoot, I need people to be in the movie. Speaking parts, extras, crew, etc. I'm planning on playing the 'dictator', but I still need people to be the interviewer, everyone on my staff, the military guys, and random civilians.
So, yeah. If anybody is interested, post here or on Facebook, or just email me. If enough people are interested in doing it, I might actually go buy the equipment and get this thing off the ground.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
No News is Good News
Jordan and/or Schunk, if you're reading this, I fuckin' miss you guys. I haven't been online in weeks because I've been busy with work and crap. I swear I'm gonna take a drive out to Poughkeepsie sometime before finals start. At least, I'll sure as hell try to. Anyway, I'm just making a little update for anyone who's been wondering where I've been.
In psychiatric news, I'm on Cymbalta now. Not loving it, but not hating it either. Also, it seems I may be slightly OCD. This came as something of a surprise to me, but it does explain a few things, like the hand-washing.
Still doesn't explain why I seem to have latent packrat tendencies. For those who haven't heard, there's a large black chair in my room now that wasn't there before. I took it off someone's lawn after being struck by how cool it looked. However, I didn't realize until I picked it up just how large it is. I couldn't actually fit it in my car. I ended up driving home at about 20mph with the thing hanging out the back of my trunk. It's now sitting in the middle of my room, and despite its apparent comfiness, I have yet to actually sit in it. I've kind of been using it as another table.
On the writing front, I've gotten back to work on my novel and have been making good progress. I have my heart set on a June publishing date, but I don't know yet if I'll have it done by then. Part of the problem is that one of the publishers I was looking at won't accept any manuscript short of 80,000 words, and at present my manuscript falls just short of 50,000. Plus, I'm still not sure how I want to finish the thing. Endings are a bitch, man.
Also, working at Price Chopper still sucks balls. I'm sore and miserable all day, and they don't pay me enough for this shit. It's also a bad environment for me, considering my seething hatred for old people. I don't mind some old people as long as they're still pretty alert, but I have zero patience for the senile. If I ever get that old and my mind starts to go, just kill me. I'd rather be dead than exist like that. My mind is my livelihood.
Well, on that cheery note, I'm signing off. Later, my loyal readers. Snooch to the muthafuckin' dudes.
In psychiatric news, I'm on Cymbalta now. Not loving it, but not hating it either. Also, it seems I may be slightly OCD. This came as something of a surprise to me, but it does explain a few things, like the hand-washing.
Still doesn't explain why I seem to have latent packrat tendencies. For those who haven't heard, there's a large black chair in my room now that wasn't there before. I took it off someone's lawn after being struck by how cool it looked. However, I didn't realize until I picked it up just how large it is. I couldn't actually fit it in my car. I ended up driving home at about 20mph with the thing hanging out the back of my trunk. It's now sitting in the middle of my room, and despite its apparent comfiness, I have yet to actually sit in it. I've kind of been using it as another table.
On the writing front, I've gotten back to work on my novel and have been making good progress. I have my heart set on a June publishing date, but I don't know yet if I'll have it done by then. Part of the problem is that one of the publishers I was looking at won't accept any manuscript short of 80,000 words, and at present my manuscript falls just short of 50,000. Plus, I'm still not sure how I want to finish the thing. Endings are a bitch, man.
Also, working at Price Chopper still sucks balls. I'm sore and miserable all day, and they don't pay me enough for this shit. It's also a bad environment for me, considering my seething hatred for old people. I don't mind some old people as long as they're still pretty alert, but I have zero patience for the senile. If I ever get that old and my mind starts to go, just kill me. I'd rather be dead than exist like that. My mind is my livelihood.
Well, on that cheery note, I'm signing off. Later, my loyal readers. Snooch to the muthafuckin' dudes.
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