Avalos, Eisenson to intervene in WGA case
Avalos, Eisenson to intervene in WGA case
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Musings from the Writer, Director and Editor of The Game, The Last Broadcast and The Ghosts of Edendale.
Entries into this blog have been sadly absent this year. As I’ve
written before, it means that I’m busy in life.
Should I make a New Year commitment?
Is that a cliché? Is it destined to fail?
Likely, yes on both accounts. Instead, I’ll try to do some short entries. Perhaps that is better for all – those who might read and myself. I do admit that Facebook as taken a bit of the thunder out of these writings. When it is possible to jot a one or two sentence thought of your immediate feelings, it quells the necessity to ponder the last several days or week and write a tome.
Thus – today’s entry, essentially verbatim from a post to a violin makers forum about a recent trip I took to Italy. I will try to do these short paragraphs more often. Expect more from this recent journey, as well as video.
I'm back from Italy; a fantastic trip in every regard and Cremona was a real joy.
At the museum, seeing the molds, knives, clamps, etc. of Tony himself was quite awing. We also went to the town hall, where my girlfriend was quite struck by the Amati built for King Charles the 9th. We heard Andrea Mosconi (the conservator) play the Strad Ex-Bavarian there. It's on loan to them at the moment. I wish he'd have let me play it, as I would have given it a bit more of a work out. :)
In terms of playing, though time was a bit limited, I had a chance to play several violins in a few different shops. Overall, many of the shops weren't really 'open' to the public, but the luthiers I did manage to talk to were quite friendly. I played a few 'used' violins -- a 1690 C.G. Testore, for example (for the price -- eh).
Of the new violins, I noticed quite a range in quality. What I took away from the trip was the, i guess obvious, "Luthier located in Cremona" is not synonymous with "great". I realized fully that Cremona is to many Luthiers what Los Angeles is to actors. You're going to get a wide range of capability.
However, not to be mistaken -- I did also play some very concert worthy fiddles. I was most impressed by one that was made by Andrea Castellani. To the point where I asked him the price; a surprisingly low 6000 EU. It did get me thinking. In the excitement of playing violin after violin at his shop, I didn't ask him what bow I was using, which I regret. In hindsight, it was the best bow I've ever had my hands on. Hopefully an email to him will have him remembering (and hopefully it wasn't a Tourte or something. I'd really feel like an ass.)
Anyway, a great experience. I suggest everyone do it once in their life, at least.
The updates on this blog have been getting spottier than ever. That's obvious. Time is being fragmented by so many things that it becomes difficult to maintain a routine. With this blog, I make attempts to write more than just brief, unimportant updates as to what I'm doing; Facebook or Twitter, etc. are fine for that. One quick aside about that phenomenon -- why is it essentially the same people that are completely paranoid about the government tapping phones and email are also the same people that update their 'twitbook' every ten minutes? For being concerned with privacy issues, we have very happily put it all out there, haven't we? Hey, I'm obviously one of 'them'. Aside complete. I have started thinking about the next movie. The past few years have been a series of ups and downs in terms of trying to get another feature off the ground. Like so many other people in this town, I have my stories of, "it almost happened but the deal fell apart." Unlike many in this town, that won't do for me. I have always been rather self sufficient and – as that is a strong suit – I shall, necessarily, put that self sufficiency back to work. I have begun to seriously entertain some revamped ideas about 'the next movie'. And I do have a seriously cool idea buzzing around. The buzzing goes a little bit like this… In accordance with the self-recursive premise of the movie, for the moment I am going to try a full-disclosure idea on what is happening. Now, that I've laid it out there, I have to make it happen. I've dared myself. You dare me too.
A month old cut and paste news article about a punk rocker that died constitutes a blog?
I check the statistics and see that there are the faithful that return to my writings, or lack thereof - with incredible patience. So why am I so slow in updating, in writing, in musing? Simply, because like much of this country, nay, this world - I am desperately looking for work. I haven't had the time to write and if I had - it would be useless, ponderous tripe. Proof is this entire previous paragraph.
So... what exactly is happening? What news is there to tell?
I am developing a new project. It's a reality show. It's for kids.
Here's a quick sneak peak.
There will be more. For now, I am leaving with that.
Oh, okay... here's some more. This is just me griping and is not of much use...
Founder, front man of punk band, The Cramps… As a Teenager, I had a lot of fun playing covers of some of this band's tunes. The GOO GOO MUCK, as simple and silly a tune as it is, will always bring a smile to my face and memories of parties, guitars, amps, and summertime in high school.
Three days ago, I had a few bouts with the hiccups. I used to get them frequently when I was a child, but this was for a different reason. After ruling out a few things, I realized it was the eating of crackers, and drinking of water that was precipitating them. Of course, it wasn't really the fault of the crackers and water. It was the Vicodin that I'd been popping. Dulling physical pain as well as my mind, I guess it also dulled my muscles and their abilities slightly. So what pain was I dulling? Well, on Monday morning, I had a brief surgery. Yup – in and out in about three hours, said surgery added a nice scar about belt level, a shaved stomach and leg -- and hiccups. Lest anyone be overly concerned about my well being, it was surgery for a "lifting of heavy weights" injury – yes, a hernia. Minor, and something from which I will fully recover with no restrictions (eventually), it is currently a nuisance. So, 'hic', I am now focusing on things that don't require much movement. I am relaxing from exercise until the good doctor says otherwise, and am exploring the wanderings of the mind when popping Vicodin. Actually, I've drastically cut back on the stuff and am using just half (or less) of what is being prescribed. While it's not a bad feeling, I am having a need for full use of my mental faculties. I'll take a bit of discomfort if I can think straight. Of course, right now, I'm about to go to bed and with my side is hurting a bit…. Maybe half. 'Hic.'
These meandering thoughts began with my attempt to fix the sync. No, that's not a typo; this all began when Yahoo.com, my internet homepage for quite a few years, stopped synchronizing with MS Outlook. Follow the trail of thoughts and see where it leads. Basically, I am an extremely loyal person. I am not one to give up or move on from something very quickly. Dogged perseverance has been one trait I've had as long as I've been around. While this is generally considered a positive trait, I also see it as a detriment. For years, I owned a British sports car. While beautiful to look at, mechanically, it was a piece of junk. That perseverance and hope for a better day only led to me being stranded countless times – betrayed, shamed, humbled. Why did I keep with it? Why did I keep working at it? Why did I think it would somehow change? I have had similar experiences with other machines, as well as Banks, pets, stores -- and people. It's not a trait that is unique; I'm sure this is striking a nerve, right? So, back to fixing the sync. I tried. I really did. I bet if I were to spend more time with it, I could get it to work. But it shouldn't be that hard. Not in this day and age. So, I'm looking elsewhere. That is the thing I'm going to do differently in the New Year. I won't call it a resolution; the word is too trendy around this time; it's going to be 'a thought process'. I'm simply not going to try as hard with something that is obviously broken. Already, the last few days have involved deleting, removing, and disposing of useless detritus from the past and I'm happy to say, it gets easier with practice. You get the idea. Those are all web and computer based geek-issues, but amongst the other pruning that I've done thus far, phone numbers have been deleted from my cell phone (that felt great), a credit card was dumped (awesome), and food thrown out that I hated, that had been occupying precious shelf space for months (just good sense). Still to come- artwork, clothes, discs of music and software that I'll never use or listen to… I highly suggest you try it. Chuck the baggage, downsize, fire, eliminate, break-up, throw-away. And don't look back. It's a new year. It's a great time to shift loyalties to new hopes and dreams. And hell, if someone did it to you – be it an employer, a friend, a dream, a lover, a (fill in the blank)… good riddance. It's a new year!
I'm in a decrepit hotel in Matewan, West Virginia -- the area famous for the Hatfield-McCoy feud, among other also-violent happenings, mostly involving coal mining and unions, sometimes a flood. We drove the poorest Appalachia to get here. Matewan, with a population of about 498 is actually quite a bit larger than the 'towns' we went through to get here. All no more than a quarter mile in diameter, restricted by the mountains, these collections of buildings exist only because of the railroad tracks that wind through the bases of the mountains – the tracks upon which is delivered the coal, coal, coal. Most of the buildings in these railtrack-side towns are prefab or trailer homes. I think that carting things away is too expensive or too much effort for many. Junked cars, appliances, etc. pile up next to buildings and frequent burned out shells of homes stand next to still-occupied ones. There is no shortage of churches. The denominations one would expect in this land – Baptist, Revival, Methodist, Zionist, Fundamental, are all within walking distance of any domicile in these towns. But even the churches look sad and more than a handful have been abandoned; left to be devoured by the elements. No matter what your beliefs, a house of worship crumbling down upon itself, is one of the bleakest sites to see, especially in a town that is not quite dead. The mile long trains laden with Coal frequently lumber down the tracks and the massive coal mines themselves, appearing suddenly as one goes around a bend in the road, are an impressive sight. In one place, we actually drove under a huge conveyor belt that moved coal from the mountain on one side of the road, to the tracks on the other side. Disturbing to see are the areas where strip mining has occurred. Huge swaths of forest, hundreds of feet across – one seemed to be about a mile across, are gone, bare ground chewed into by machinery. They look like bomb blasts. And another form of mining that I was not aware of is also taking place: mountaintop removal. I leave it for the interested person to click on that hyperlink to learn more. Tomorrow will be cold so I'm preparing as best as possible. It's hard to believe that I'll be back in L.A. in a few days. It seems so distant from where I am right now. Another horn of a diesel engine has sounded. Another mile-long train, cars piled high with coal is beginning to pass. I'll go to the window to watch it, then to sleep.
Squeaking, clacking and low rumbles of a mile-long coal train are echoing outside of my window as I write this. The tracks are only a quarter mile away and it is sound I have heard often over the last couple nights. The streets are shiny wet from a light snow that is falling but not quite sticking.
I took this picture not knowing what exactly was being said. Click on the picture to see it in full size -- then zoom in on the sign to see what caught my eye. Googling provided the answer. It is the sign of one Mick McCoy, an English teacher in these parts. Were it not for that sign, I would not have become aware of this insidious form of mining.
We are getting to a point where we really have lost track of what day it is. Since our day off doesn't fall on any particular day, certainly not the weekend, it is no help, chronologically speaking. Time, the actual hour, is also getting a bit tricky. Bouncing back and forth through time zones does that. And states? All I know is that I'm experiencing an east coast autumn this year. Twice. Much of the areas we are traveling look similar to where I grew up in Pennsylvania, though the moment the locals speak, it is obviously the deep south. Today was a dreary gray, rainy day. The temperature is mild for the moment, though I fear the inevitable plunge of the mercury for which I am not fully prepared. I'm hoping that I'll be back to sunny Los Angeles before that happens in earnest. I am enjoying the hotel we are currently in. Little things like complimentary breakfast, a microwave in the room and decent internet make all the difference in the world. We were dreading the next location; a place that was quite unlikely to have these amenities (not to mention fitness rooms, a bar, LAUNDRY!, etc.) Once we discovered that the commute wasn't much different, we petitioned to stay in this hotel. Petition granted, we are happy that our current beds and bathrooms will remain the same. In a couple days we will be heading to the new location, Salley, South Carolina; a town with a population of 412. Our crew will actually, temporarily, increase the population of that town by 2% as well as completely screw up their ethnic demographic. Even the people who live here (here being Lexington, South Carolina) have, for the most part, never heard of this tiny burg. Should be interesting. There, we will be shooting part of the "Chitlin Strut", the event for which this town is known. Getting here from Austin, Texas was one of those trips one hopes never to repeat. At the airports we have a combined 36 cases of equipment and personal luggage. Most of these are massive cases that store lights, cameras and grip equipment. At the Continental gate, one of the first camera guys checking in was told that his personal check-in bag was too heavy. He was then given the bleak information that the weight limit was 75 pounds, well below the 95 pounds that other airlines had placed. We all turned to look grimly at the mountain of equipment cases looming behind us. This was very bad news. The arguing of a harried producer with the airline resulted in nothing. This was not a problem that money could solve. It was either ship them by ground, or by Fedex or lower the weight somehow. With about ten cases well over the limit and with a shoot the very next morning, we had no choice but to open up the cases and move things around as best as possible – shifting things from one case to another in order to get some of the 95 pound cases to weigh 75 pounds. It is certainly not a good way to move expensive equipment and with cases of open camera gear; tripods, large lights, cables, etc. spread out on the airport floor as we moved things around, it was not a great way to start the morning of travel. We hoped it was a final kick in the teeth from Texas, rather than portents of South Carolina. We did finally succeed in getting things on board and happily flew out of Austin. Hopping on another flight in Houston, we watched from the windows of quite a smaller plane as the baggage handlers below the wings argued with each other about the mountain of equipment that was supposed to go into the belly of the plane. The shaking of heads, staring at our cases, more shaking of heads, and furrowed brows shifted to the sounds of much thumping and banging as they loaded our stuff aboard. After about thirty minutes, this was interrupted by an announcement from the captain that 'some' people wouldn't be getting their baggage on this flight as ten 'random' bags were going to be removed due to weight issues. Our intrepid producer stomped down the aisle of the plane to the front, where the powers-that-be were getting off the intercom, and explained with frustration that if all our equipment didn't arrive with us, thousands of dollars worth of production were at stake. I heard that it was a rough and bumpy takeoff, with more than one crew member cursing under their breath as they stared out the windows. I heard that it seemed to take a long time to get up to speed for take off. I don't know. I was asleep as something about being on a plane puts me to sleep as well as a tranquilizer dart. I did awake briefly for a jag of turbulence that really made one aware of just how fast we were flying. Arriving at a tiny airport, we finally, after much checking and cross checking saw that we were only missing a couple lights and a monitor. We got lucky and the show went on without hitch. Meanwhile, some innocents aboard that plane didn't get their luggage because of us and our obnoxiously large cargo. We, the crew, apologize. Blame Continental. They should have known better from the start. Now, it is eleven thirty (or is it eight thirty?). Tomorrow is another day. What day? Uh, I don't know. I do know that I'm tired and the bed is calling. Good night.
Writing in screenplay format is finitely rewarding.
So, here in journal form -- my innermost thoughts,
realizations and hopes and fears.
If you prick me, will I not bleed?
If you tickle me, will I not laugh?
If you read me, will I not write?
Let me know that I'm not alone in the world.
Comments and Email are always welcomed.
You can Double click on any word in this blog for more info. Pretty cool.