Prelude to a Love-Fest

It’s been so long.

On one hand, I feel guilty. Much like the small plant that my girlfriend donated to my room, I’ve been neglecting this blog. I can only hope that it requires significantly less water, sunlight, pure air, and grooming than does the plant. One thing that it does NOT require, however, is any less attention. In many ways, it’s a living, organic, tangible ‘pet’ – or it would be if people actually posted salutations, comments, even insults. Regardless, fair blog, I am singlehandedly to blame for the lack of recent nurturing. I’m sorry. The plant gets no apology...it knows why.

On the other hand...

The only reason to feel guilty is if I’m under the impression that I’m letting people down. I have a desk job; I know that for many there is a desperate dependence on surfing your favorite sites. It can be grounds to Irish your coffee (not that my contemporaries need an excuse) if a regular fave hasn’t been updated since Feb. 13th (That’s right, Friedman. I only hope you’re not posting because a) you’re too busy writing a great script b) you’re too busy writing a decent script or c) you’re tanning at Pepperdine, knee-deep in sorority girls and grapefruit-flavored Fresca.)

That being said, I don’t know that this blog penetrates the same circus of informative, interesting ego-prose that our favorites (August, Mazin, Friedman, Wordplay, and the other Monkeys) perform in. I don’t know how many people visit the site – but if there’s a way to check this within Blogspot, let a brotha know. I don’t know if people care, one way or the other, save for those who love me and those who hate me.

In any event, fueled by Karen’s insistence that chemically-balanced literates actually waste their cookies on bdsa.blogspot.com, I shall trudge on. Not to mention the handful of semi-professional industry fluff who run into me at parties and muse behind smug lips, ‘So, I hear you have a blog….I’m sure it’s… (pause to sip mohito, ensure anti-establishment pins are securely fastened, resume eye contact)… fun.”

Moving past my guilt/non-guilt, there’s not much to report. I went as a guest of inkcanada (THE Canadian screenwriting group of the future) to see AVENGE BUT ONE OF MY TWO EYES, an honest, emotionally raw (if poorly paced and a half hour too long – but when a director wears too many hats…) Anti-Israeli occupation doc made by an Israeli. As Avi Mograbi spoke to an engaged crowd, I regarded him with the blind sense of authority I reserve only for people with neat accents or handguns. What a commanding speaker – that’s one talent (along with nimble guitar hands) that I wish I had, the ability to engage a room with booming eloquence and grace.

Following the movie, a few of us went out to discuss. This is when all hell broke loose…details are unnecessary, suffice to say it was a rip-roaring good time, I learned Mexican mask wrestling is not only a valid passion but also worth the energy, got boozeltoffed (look it up) with some great new acquaintances, and woke up smelling like I was tied to a mattress and doused by a fire hose gushing JD and Moosehead.

I met with VA again, and we de-briefed one another: I told her who I was in contact with, and she did the same. We agreed (meaning I agreed) that it’s a good time to take a breath on the feature front and focus on some TV specs. Specifically, a half hour comedy spec and a 1hr. drama original spec. There is one fundamental reason for this decision: I want work ASAP. Not tomorrow, but yesterday. I’m patiently growing impatient with 9-5, rush-hour sandwiched on the TTC, the lack of creative contributions, the lack of funds. Before KW tells me I’m a whiny little baby, I know I’ve got it good. I’m aware. I know I don’t yet deserve to rattle on about what is fair and what is not…but writers should write, I keep telling myself. There’s a reason we like to lock ourselves in rooms and conjure up explosions and threesomes and underdog stories – and it’s the same reason we don’t take to working amongst cubicles and status meetings and inter-office acronyms.

I know it takes time – time is fine. Gotta get your face out, meet the producers, directors, agents, broadcasters of the country: The movers and shakers of this frigid cinema brotherhood (sisters welcome - nay, preferred). Follow the chain – it's all about contacts. An example: It was mentioned that there’s a woman with an idea for a mobile short – and a director who is interested. Thing is, she don’t wanna write it. I know: cell-phone shorts aren’t exactly hitting the big time. But it makes sense for me to do it. Why? The person with the idea just happens to be a big-time writer up for positions on some of Canada's biggest TV series. The interested director is an up-and-comer with an excellent reel, and alum of Ryerson (as am I). We’re roughly the same age – so as he grows, (hopefully) I’ll grow. Forming a relationship with these people is the right thing to do…assuming, of course, that we get along. It’s that cardinal rule that I keep getting drilled into my head: Only work with who you like.

An interesting aside: The above rule runs contrary to my father’s cardinal rule: If they’re gonna pay you to write shit jokes on toilet paper, you better write the funniest shit jokes ever scribbled on two-ply.

Seriously, now:

I have recently become rather concerned about the image I’m projecting on this blog. In other words, I’m beginning to think of the children. I’m afraid that I come across as a surly, sarcastic, self-conscious writer…which is no more than 63% of Josh Budd. Based on the suggestion of my far better half (and if you’ve met her, you’ll certainly agree), to come is a post about things that make me happy. Why I choose, like so many others, to jump headfirst down the fifteen-storey waterslide without being certain that there’s actually water at the bottom – the kamikaze dream of the creditless screenwriter. We're all hoping not to hit the rocks. What about his crazy game is actually fun? Basically, all the sugar coated cheeseball (sounds disgusting AND unhealthy) reasons for keeping inspired, focused, and sane.

Stay tuned. Love-fest coming soon. It’s the only time you’ll get this out of me, so enjoy.