Apparently, after checking the recently updated MVA website, the call for entries was on the 22nd of August.
I find this both ammusing and infuriating, given that the website was still in 'last year' mode for most of August and, if I remember correctly, a good part of September. I distinctly remember asking around about the MVA call for entries in September, with narry a person sure of the date.
Either that or they changed the website on the same date as the call for entries, so if you wanted to prepare prior to that you'd be shit out of luck.
The deadline for submissions is 15th October. I was hoping to have finished my feature by the deadline of submissions but since I didn't know when the fuck it was before it was a bit tough to coordinate. I guess 'Ciplak' will not be premiering there.
Meat flaps.
However, I am tempted to submit 'Some Like It White', even though I know for a fact that it won't pick up an award. But the thought of judges trawling through tons of beautifully shot/deeply meaningful/aestheticly experimental short films and suddenly find themselves watching 11 minutes of politically incorrect banter puts a smile on my face. I know 'Some Like It White' isn't awards material, but I'm quite sure it'll stand out from the crowd like a spontaneously combusted left mammary on a Beoing 747.
Taste the plastic goodness.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Production Meeting
Props. Storyboards. Equipment required. Scheduling. Animation. That pretty much sums up our first production meeting.
Sat in my room in Taman Tun (which shall now be dubbed 'the hive') we went through everything we needed for this weekends shoot. Whilst Ahmad video-ed the meeting (for upcoming documentary or DVD extra fun) myself and Ariff went through my hastily drawn boards whilst Diana took notes and records. Most of the meeting went like this:
ME: So I'm thinking of having the camera there, but the light's coming in from there, any worries of backlight?
ARIFF: No problem. We'll stick some sugar paper there, let the light come in from the top of the window and stick a reflector on this side for good measure.
ME: Nice. Sweetie, have we got sugar paper and a styrofoam board for reflectors on the equipment list?
DIANA: Yup. Got it all down.
ME: Cool. We'll pop out on Thursday after work to grab all the stuff. Ahmad, I'll go through the animation with you right after we sort out scene 23.
AHMAD: Ok.
ME: Ok. Ariff, on scene 23, I'm not sure between a tracking shot following the main character or a tilt up from the car. What'dya reckon?
ARIFF: ...
ME: Erm... Ariff?
ARIFF: Mmmm... Alba...
ME: Ariff? Could you put down the 'Making of Sin City' book? I've gotta send my girlfriend home later.
In a nutshell.
Going through the animation was interesting.
ME: Ok, the brain sequence runs through a page and a half and it's meant to be like the USS Enterprise, so all these guys in the brain are like Star Trek, but different...
AHMAD: Aaaarghh!!!
ME: What?
AHMAD: Lip sync!
ME: What's wrong ith lip sync?
AHMAD: Everyone in my class failed lip sync!
ME: Then create characters without lips.
We'll see how that turns out in November. The dude needs to finish college first.
Tomorrow is props and equipment buying. I've got shit-loads of miniDV tapes to buy as well as equipment for DIY lighting and my outfit for the duration of the movie. Not sure about how the guy's meant to look still. We'll soon find out.
Sat in my room in Taman Tun (which shall now be dubbed 'the hive') we went through everything we needed for this weekends shoot. Whilst Ahmad video-ed the meeting (for upcoming documentary or DVD extra fun) myself and Ariff went through my hastily drawn boards whilst Diana took notes and records. Most of the meeting went like this:
ME: So I'm thinking of having the camera there, but the light's coming in from there, any worries of backlight?
ARIFF: No problem. We'll stick some sugar paper there, let the light come in from the top of the window and stick a reflector on this side for good measure.
ME: Nice. Sweetie, have we got sugar paper and a styrofoam board for reflectors on the equipment list?
DIANA: Yup. Got it all down.
ME: Cool. We'll pop out on Thursday after work to grab all the stuff. Ahmad, I'll go through the animation with you right after we sort out scene 23.
AHMAD: Ok.
ME: Ok. Ariff, on scene 23, I'm not sure between a tracking shot following the main character or a tilt up from the car. What'dya reckon?
ARIFF: ...
ME: Erm... Ariff?
ARIFF: Mmmm... Alba...
ME: Ariff? Could you put down the 'Making of Sin City' book? I've gotta send my girlfriend home later.
In a nutshell.
Going through the animation was interesting.
ME: Ok, the brain sequence runs through a page and a half and it's meant to be like the USS Enterprise, so all these guys in the brain are like Star Trek, but different...
AHMAD: Aaaarghh!!!
ME: What?
AHMAD: Lip sync!
ME: What's wrong ith lip sync?
AHMAD: Everyone in my class failed lip sync!
ME: Then create characters without lips.
We'll see how that turns out in November. The dude needs to finish college first.
Tomorrow is props and equipment buying. I've got shit-loads of miniDV tapes to buy as well as equipment for DIY lighting and my outfit for the duration of the movie. Not sure about how the guy's meant to look still. We'll soon find out.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
A Real Ponce
"Yes, I've had a look at the part - a real ponce. So that's what you think of me, huh?"
That's what Peter Hassan Brown said (or is it Hassan Peter Brown? I can never get the order right) after reading the script and the part I had him in mind for.
I've been getting quite a few comments like these. All in light-hearted fun, of course, but totally expected. So far, I've had to ask Saiful's sister whether she'd be willing to play a sweet little girl with the biggest porn collection in South East Asia, I've had to ask Nazneen whether she'd be willing to play a grade-A first class rich bitch, and now this: asking Peter Brown whether he'd be willing to play a violent version of Uncle Monty from Withnail & I.
But the e-mail was also filled with a lot of happy stuffs, such as:
"I think you are a very good script writer, and it has that panache - sort of Steven Speilberg hyperreal stuff. I feel very overawed by it, quite honestly."
Sweet. As. Pie.
Tonight's our first production meeting. I've got Ariff Aris on D.P. duties, Diana as my trusty production manager, Paul and Ahmad as sound/light men/production assistants and Paul will also be doubling as skate-stunt coordinator and Ahmad will be doubling as the documentarian of the entire shoot.
Tonight will be... quite messy, I reckon. But hopefully we'll get all the shit sorted out for this Saturday's shoot.
That's what Peter Hassan Brown said (or is it Hassan Peter Brown? I can never get the order right) after reading the script and the part I had him in mind for.
I've been getting quite a few comments like these. All in light-hearted fun, of course, but totally expected. So far, I've had to ask Saiful's sister whether she'd be willing to play a sweet little girl with the biggest porn collection in South East Asia, I've had to ask Nazneen whether she'd be willing to play a grade-A first class rich bitch, and now this: asking Peter Brown whether he'd be willing to play a violent version of Uncle Monty from Withnail & I.
But the e-mail was also filled with a lot of happy stuffs, such as:
"I think you are a very good script writer, and it has that panache - sort of Steven Speilberg hyperreal stuff. I feel very overawed by it, quite honestly."
Sweet. As. Pie.
Tonight's our first production meeting. I've got Ariff Aris on D.P. duties, Diana as my trusty production manager, Paul and Ahmad as sound/light men/production assistants and Paul will also be doubling as skate-stunt coordinator and Ahmad will be doubling as the documentarian of the entire shoot.
Tonight will be... quite messy, I reckon. But hopefully we'll get all the shit sorted out for this Saturday's shoot.
From Ma-Sheen to the Source of his Scandal...
Following on from the Charlie Sheen dream, it seems like my train of thought deep in my subconscious is continously travelling the realms of fucked-up-ness. The night before it was Charlie Sheen telling me to kill. Last night, it was the source of the Ma-sheen's scandal in the mid 90's.
That's right. Hookers.
There I was, having some strange dream at some strange parties in KL, driving a BMW 3 series (which, for reasons I shall not say, is a nightmare in itself due to my secret history with the evil 2 door bastard) when I find myself making my way to a part of town I am as yet unfamiliar with. The design of the place is like a high-school until I walk over to the lobby and realize I'm in a whorehouse.
Yup. A whorehouse.
I place my order with the maddam and she asks me to wait in the waiting booth, which is really just a small toilet with windows. A blonde prostitute walks past and for some reason I know she's not mine. Then another one. There she is.
Straight, jet black hair, a slight Eurasian look, busty, voloptuous and wearing nothing but a deep blue strapless PVC bra and matching hotpants. She knocks on the window, smiles and beckons me to go upstairs. I exit the toilet, walk up with her, open the door...
...and that's when I wake up.
These dreams are getting weirder and weirder by the day. What's gonna happen tonight, I wonder? Will Jack Nicholson teach me how to convince cheerleaders to give me head whilst weilding a H&K sub machine gun? Where are these fucking dreams coming from?
And why the fuck did my dream have to end just before we got down and dirty?! couldn't I have woken up just before it was time to pay? Then I'd have gotten away with having sex with a hooker for free!
Maybe it's the Gatorade. I'll stay away from the Gatorade.
That's right. Hookers.
There I was, having some strange dream at some strange parties in KL, driving a BMW 3 series (which, for reasons I shall not say, is a nightmare in itself due to my secret history with the evil 2 door bastard) when I find myself making my way to a part of town I am as yet unfamiliar with. The design of the place is like a high-school until I walk over to the lobby and realize I'm in a whorehouse.
Yup. A whorehouse.
I place my order with the maddam and she asks me to wait in the waiting booth, which is really just a small toilet with windows. A blonde prostitute walks past and for some reason I know she's not mine. Then another one. There she is.
Straight, jet black hair, a slight Eurasian look, busty, voloptuous and wearing nothing but a deep blue strapless PVC bra and matching hotpants. She knocks on the window, smiles and beckons me to go upstairs. I exit the toilet, walk up with her, open the door...
...and that's when I wake up.
These dreams are getting weirder and weirder by the day. What's gonna happen tonight, I wonder? Will Jack Nicholson teach me how to convince cheerleaders to give me head whilst weilding a H&K sub machine gun? Where are these fucking dreams coming from?
And why the fuck did my dream have to end just before we got down and dirty?! couldn't I have woken up just before it was time to pay? Then I'd have gotten away with having sex with a hooker for free!
Maybe it's the Gatorade. I'll stay away from the Gatorade.
Malaysia Loves It Up The Ass
No, not the country 'Malaysia' (although some would debate this). I'm talking about the porn star 'Malaysia'.That's right. Porn star. There's a porn star called 'Malaysia'.
some of you may already know about this, but this sure was news to me. There I was, searching through IMDB for anything to do with Malaysia when I find Jayna Oso, a.k.a.Malaysia.
Born in Brunei in 1981 (she's younger than me by a year!) and brought up in Hawaii, Malaysia has been busy since 2003. Besides her real name and Malaysia, she's sometimes credited as Jeana or Malasah.
You may remember her from many imaginatively titled smut movies such as:
- Biggest Black Girth On Earth 4
- One In The Pink & One In The Stink
- Grand Theft Anal 2
- Cum Dumpsters 3
- Sophia Has A Negro Problem Too
- Weapons of Ass Destruction 3
- Straight to the Sphincter
- Shitty Shitty Bang Bang
- I Cream On Genie
- Ass Good Ass It Gets
- Slant Eye For The Straight Guy
I wish I was making these names up, but they're all true. I think I'll use these titles in my movie. After all, my script is filled with nods to comic fans and movie fans. Why not give a shout out to smut fans? The fact that it's a movie about Malaysia and all the porn titles mentioned in the movie all feature an actress called Malaysia fits nicely, methinks.
Nice.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Ma-Sheen Dreams
My dreams have been getting progressively dodgier as the days go by. But two nights ago it took the cake.
There I was, sleeping on a sofa not long enough for my entire body, legs dangling out. Goz and Beh had come up to visit and record a hip-hop track at my house so, ever the gracious host, I gave them my bed and I slept downstairs on said sofa. After much persuasion, I managed to fall asleep briefly.
And that's when I met Charlie Sheen.
There I was in my dream: queueing up in a food court. When it came to my turn guess who was serving me? Charlie-fucking-Sheen, looking 80's young.
And he was telling me to kill.
Cooly and calmly with an edge of menace, a look on his face akin to his cameo in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, he told me to go out and kill. He told me how easy it would be. He told me how to slice people's throats and what knife to use.
Charlie Sheen told me I should kill every last one of you sorry pigfuckers.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
There I was, sleeping on a sofa not long enough for my entire body, legs dangling out. Goz and Beh had come up to visit and record a hip-hop track at my house so, ever the gracious host, I gave them my bed and I slept downstairs on said sofa. After much persuasion, I managed to fall asleep briefly.
And that's when I met Charlie Sheen.
There I was in my dream: queueing up in a food court. When it came to my turn guess who was serving me? Charlie-fucking-Sheen, looking 80's young.
And he was telling me to kill.
Cooly and calmly with an edge of menace, a look on his face akin to his cameo in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, he told me to go out and kill. He told me how easy it would be. He told me how to slice people's throats and what knife to use.
Charlie Sheen told me I should kill every last one of you sorry pigfuckers.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Friday, September 23, 2005
Beyond Ranting
I was in a briefing today about a product from a company which isexactly the same as another product from the same company (same shape, same ingredients, etc) except it's cheaper and the packaging's a different colour. Listening to how 'great' the insights and ideas were and how 'important' the job was I began to question in my head exactly how much this job makes a difference to my life in general.
Things are at a supremely low point right now as far as work is concerned. The conspiracy theorists have surmised that our office is not of the right 'Feng Shui'. In fact, they believe the structure, the colours, even the floor number are acting against us. In the last building we were on the 28th floor, a number they believed brought us wealth and fortune. Strange symbols were placed on the ceiling. Now we're on the 14th floor - 'die every day', apparently. The symbols are gone.
This line of thought seems to be more and more appealing as an explanation of current events since we moved here, but whilst it may be a reason, it does not fix things. My care and love and attention to my work is at a point right now where I'm actually planning on leaving little booby traps in my work. In-jokes that may backfire on the client one day, hopefully when I'm long gone.
I have French names to come up with. I'm tempted to put the words 'Arse', 'Fellatio' and 'Pig Fucker' in the names in French and tell the client the words actually mean 'Peaches', 'Talent' and 'Rural Activities'.
And now, as I discovered in the meeting, the inspirational speeches aren't working anymore. I'm just doing this for the money at this point and it won't be long before someone realizes I'm putting zero effort into everything I do between the hours of 9 to 5.
Sorry. I meant 11 to 5.
All I know is it wasn't like this when I first joined. I don't care slaving and working my ass off if someone benefits from it, but I really don't see anyone benefiting from a damn thing I do. Especially yesterday when I spent 3 1/2 hours in the backseat of a Kancil and another 3 1/2 hours in my own car going through endless traffic jams. NOTHING was accomplished. Absolute fuck-all.
And when I know I could be spending that time doing something a lot more productive it pisses me off to no end.
My chips are currently on my 'extra-vocational' activities. By December I'll know for certain whether I'll be a corporate whore for the rest of my life who dabbles in the 'arts' (I hate that term) on the side or whether I'll be spendin my days doing stuff that I actually believe in. By December the Y2k album will be out. The movie will be done. These two releases will determine my 2006.
Till then, give me your fucking briefs and your inane deadlines and uninspiring speeches on the importance of marketing these products to the nines. I'll write your headlines, type your copy and come up with your inane concepts based on Un-Unique Selling Propositions.
And before anyone starts, I know there are a lot of people in this industry going through a much bigger hell than me and people in other industries going through worse and people who are jobless and thus not in any industry in particular going through even worse and victims in third world countries and other such malarky...
...but it's my blog. I'll rant if I'm not happy about the length of my pubes if it so pleases me.
Epilogue: Later, after this post was written, before I posted it I went to check on one of the TVC's we've sent for submission in the Kancils. We've recut it and used music I composed. Slight tang of pride, there.
Things are at a supremely low point right now as far as work is concerned. The conspiracy theorists have surmised that our office is not of the right 'Feng Shui'. In fact, they believe the structure, the colours, even the floor number are acting against us. In the last building we were on the 28th floor, a number they believed brought us wealth and fortune. Strange symbols were placed on the ceiling. Now we're on the 14th floor - 'die every day', apparently. The symbols are gone.
This line of thought seems to be more and more appealing as an explanation of current events since we moved here, but whilst it may be a reason, it does not fix things. My care and love and attention to my work is at a point right now where I'm actually planning on leaving little booby traps in my work. In-jokes that may backfire on the client one day, hopefully when I'm long gone.
I have French names to come up with. I'm tempted to put the words 'Arse', 'Fellatio' and 'Pig Fucker' in the names in French and tell the client the words actually mean 'Peaches', 'Talent' and 'Rural Activities'.
And now, as I discovered in the meeting, the inspirational speeches aren't working anymore. I'm just doing this for the money at this point and it won't be long before someone realizes I'm putting zero effort into everything I do between the hours of 9 to 5.
Sorry. I meant 11 to 5.
All I know is it wasn't like this when I first joined. I don't care slaving and working my ass off if someone benefits from it, but I really don't see anyone benefiting from a damn thing I do. Especially yesterday when I spent 3 1/2 hours in the backseat of a Kancil and another 3 1/2 hours in my own car going through endless traffic jams. NOTHING was accomplished. Absolute fuck-all.
And when I know I could be spending that time doing something a lot more productive it pisses me off to no end.
My chips are currently on my 'extra-vocational' activities. By December I'll know for certain whether I'll be a corporate whore for the rest of my life who dabbles in the 'arts' (I hate that term) on the side or whether I'll be spendin my days doing stuff that I actually believe in. By December the Y2k album will be out. The movie will be done. These two releases will determine my 2006.
Till then, give me your fucking briefs and your inane deadlines and uninspiring speeches on the importance of marketing these products to the nines. I'll write your headlines, type your copy and come up with your inane concepts based on Un-Unique Selling Propositions.
And before anyone starts, I know there are a lot of people in this industry going through a much bigger hell than me and people in other industries going through worse and people who are jobless and thus not in any industry in particular going through even worse and victims in third world countries and other such malarky...
...but it's my blog. I'll rant if I'm not happy about the length of my pubes if it so pleases me.
Epilogue: Later, after this post was written, before I posted it I went to check on one of the TVC's we've sent for submission in the Kancils. We've recut it and used music I composed. Slight tang of pride, there.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Feta Cheese - The Musical
Tell me, sir,
Could you please save
My head, I fear
That my brain waves
Are slowly turning into
Lumps of poo...
(Chorus background: Poo! Poo!)
And I know
That if I spent
A second saving
Up to rent
A great big flat
I would be fat
From vindaloo...
(Chorus background: In the loo...!)
Refrain:
Oh, GLORIOUS! So GLORIOUS! The mountains made of CHEESE!
Oh GLORIOUS! So GLORIOUS! These hills do what they PLEASE!
(Chorus background: You're welcome!)
...I seriously need help. Of the professional kind.
Could you please save
My head, I fear
That my brain waves
Are slowly turning into
Lumps of poo...
(Chorus background: Poo! Poo!)
And I know
That if I spent
A second saving
Up to rent
A great big flat
I would be fat
From vindaloo...
(Chorus background: In the loo...!)
Refrain:
Oh, GLORIOUS! So GLORIOUS! The mountains made of CHEESE!
Oh GLORIOUS! So GLORIOUS! These hills do what they PLEASE!
(Chorus background: You're welcome!)
...I seriously need help. Of the professional kind.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Time to Time It
Met up with Ariff (Aris, my drummer back in Khaimano days) to talk about the movie I'm making to see whether he'd be up for handling the camera. Looks like the guy is on for the shoot and I lent him 24 Hour Party People for visual reference and Swingers to show him (a) another low-budget movie where story is key and (b) to make him laugh. The guy hasn't exactly been lucky in the ladies department of late and Swingers is the ultimate guys movie about dating and getting over a chick. If that movie doesn't rock his catskills, I don't know what will.
I'll admit I was a bit worried when talking to him for the simple fact that to me, story and structure is key. I tell stories, that's what I do. From screenplays to lyrics to these banal blog entries, it's all about story (90% of the time).
Ariff, on the other hand, is incredibly visual. He thinks in terms of aesthetics and composition and beauty, which strangely worried me at first because automatically my mind started panicking about 2 hour set-ups for a 2 minute scene. BUT here's the thing: the fact that he isincredibly visual means that I may actually make a movie that has some sort of aesthetic value. The guy does some stunning photography (check out his DeviantArt Gallery by clicking here).
Secondly, I want to work with him because back in Khaimano days I made the terrible mistake of trusting Jam the bassist (who pretty much got the ball rolling in the break-up of the band) as opposed to trusting Ariff, the more trustworthy of the two (this mistake in trust has wracked me with guilt for quite some time). It's time I made the right decision for once and the man is more than capable. Even though I always thought of this movie as very gritty and almost documentary style, in Ariff's hands it may actually turn into something beautiful, and there ain't nothing wrong with that.
In other news, Peter Brown has gotten back to me. He's read a 1/3rd of the script so far and likes it. Only thing is he's gonna find it tough shooting during fasting month so his scene will have to be scheduled for November.
Diana, my production manager and girlfriend, passed me the 'Master Table' for the production yesterday. The Master Table contains everything you need to know about each scene in a mere five pages and she's done wonders with it. I neve knew about this 'auto-filter' business in Excel! Genius! Everything's been set out to make our planning and scheduling a whole lot easier thanks to her.
On my side, the one thing I'm trying to figure out is sound. I was watching my past short films last night and noticed that whilst the visuals are alright the sound is nigh-on horrendous. I'm definitely going to need a boom mic of some kind. My options are to (a) borrow Jordan's stereo mic, although I don't know whether he still has it, or (b) buy one. I'd rather not buy one if someone has one. The cheapest those fuckers go is RM$400. I don't have RM$400.
I also have to finalize the cast, which will mostly be made up of friends, but one character in particular I'm finding it hard to cast simply because the character's very straight, meaning not quirky at all (except for the fact that he shoots random footage, post-rationalizes a meaning and flogs it off as 'experimental visual art'). I have a few ideas who I could cast but nothing's solid yet. If anyone out there would like to make friends with a mad wannabe filmmaker and audition for this exercise in madness, do let me know.
Lastly, I need to find out how things are across the pond. Man Methodwill be handling the shoot in London. Need to find out whether his filmmaker friend is in like Flynn and whether he's got a cast rounded off.
Principal photography of the movie starts on October 1st, regarldess of how ready I am. When there's too much time I put things off till the last minute. It is now the last minute and all engines are on full steam ahead.
Even though I'm tired as fuck, I can't sleep and I'm this fucking close to killing the bastards who invented my so-called 'deodorant'. Arses in Heaven.
I'll admit I was a bit worried when talking to him for the simple fact that to me, story and structure is key. I tell stories, that's what I do. From screenplays to lyrics to these banal blog entries, it's all about story (90% of the time).
Ariff, on the other hand, is incredibly visual. He thinks in terms of aesthetics and composition and beauty, which strangely worried me at first because automatically my mind started panicking about 2 hour set-ups for a 2 minute scene. BUT here's the thing: the fact that he isincredibly visual means that I may actually make a movie that has some sort of aesthetic value. The guy does some stunning photography (check out his DeviantArt Gallery by clicking here).
Secondly, I want to work with him because back in Khaimano days I made the terrible mistake of trusting Jam the bassist (who pretty much got the ball rolling in the break-up of the band) as opposed to trusting Ariff, the more trustworthy of the two (this mistake in trust has wracked me with guilt for quite some time). It's time I made the right decision for once and the man is more than capable. Even though I always thought of this movie as very gritty and almost documentary style, in Ariff's hands it may actually turn into something beautiful, and there ain't nothing wrong with that.
In other news, Peter Brown has gotten back to me. He's read a 1/3rd of the script so far and likes it. Only thing is he's gonna find it tough shooting during fasting month so his scene will have to be scheduled for November.
Diana, my production manager and girlfriend, passed me the 'Master Table' for the production yesterday. The Master Table contains everything you need to know about each scene in a mere five pages and she's done wonders with it. I neve knew about this 'auto-filter' business in Excel! Genius! Everything's been set out to make our planning and scheduling a whole lot easier thanks to her.
On my side, the one thing I'm trying to figure out is sound. I was watching my past short films last night and noticed that whilst the visuals are alright the sound is nigh-on horrendous. I'm definitely going to need a boom mic of some kind. My options are to (a) borrow Jordan's stereo mic, although I don't know whether he still has it, or (b) buy one. I'd rather not buy one if someone has one. The cheapest those fuckers go is RM$400. I don't have RM$400.
I also have to finalize the cast, which will mostly be made up of friends, but one character in particular I'm finding it hard to cast simply because the character's very straight, meaning not quirky at all (except for the fact that he shoots random footage, post-rationalizes a meaning and flogs it off as 'experimental visual art'). I have a few ideas who I could cast but nothing's solid yet. If anyone out there would like to make friends with a mad wannabe filmmaker and audition for this exercise in madness, do let me know.
Lastly, I need to find out how things are across the pond. Man Methodwill be handling the shoot in London. Need to find out whether his filmmaker friend is in like Flynn and whether he's got a cast rounded off.
Principal photography of the movie starts on October 1st, regarldess of how ready I am. When there's too much time I put things off till the last minute. It is now the last minute and all engines are on full steam ahead.
Even though I'm tired as fuck, I can't sleep and I'm this fucking close to killing the bastards who invented my so-called 'deodorant'. Arses in Heaven.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Me & My Producer
I'm kicking myself for not thinking about this the last time I wanted to do a feature film. Why didn't I get my girlfriend as the producer from the start? She's (a) hard working, (b) trustworthy and (c) very supportive. Makes sense.
Last night, instead of cuddling up and watching a movie we worked on the movie. Diana worked on our production schedule and master table, as I like to call it. The master table is an excel spreadsheet that states, in one shot, each scene, characters in the scene, location, props required, crew, shots and various other tid-bits. Diana took the original master table (which I did for the last movie) and re-layout-ed the thing to make a whole lot simpler.
Wonderful.
Whilst she worked on the PC, I worked on the storyboards. Ordinarily I don't storyboard with my short films, but since there are a LOT of shots in this movie (at a guess, there will be at least 300 shots in the movie, possibly 400) and because I'll be using multiple cameramen and D.O.P.'s it'd be good to have a frame of reference for everyone. Might upload some of the weirder boards one of these days.
But yes, the multiple cameramen. The shooting schedule's gonna be spread out over several weekends (going well into the fasting month and after it) and I can't get one single cameraman and D.O.P. who'll be available for every weekend till we get this movie in the can (or, in the case of our current digital wave, in the hard drive). So instead I'm getting a bunch of guys who'll be taking shifts. On some weekends, it might even end up with one cameraman going on till 3pm and another will take over till 7pm. Such is the world of low budget-ness.
Another issue about the movie came up over the weekend and that is the MVA's (Malaysian Video Awards). Apparently the call for entries is in mid-October, which means there is no way in hell my feature length's gonna make it in. I'm contemplating sending my past two short films but also tempted to shoot something over the next weekend, just to stick in the MVA's. If only I had an idea...
See, with the short films I'm usually testing a technique that I'm not sure about. With Nicotine I wanted to see whether I could do a voice over driven movie and also whether my colour-to-black & white fade worked. With Some Like It White I wanted to see how much I could control pacing and dialogue through the edit. There are a few techniques I want to test out for the feature film, I'm just not sure what kind of short film dramatic context I could wrap it around.
Grammar deteriorating. Must have cigarette.
Last night, instead of cuddling up and watching a movie we worked on the movie. Diana worked on our production schedule and master table, as I like to call it. The master table is an excel spreadsheet that states, in one shot, each scene, characters in the scene, location, props required, crew, shots and various other tid-bits. Diana took the original master table (which I did for the last movie) and re-layout-ed the thing to make a whole lot simpler.
Wonderful.
Whilst she worked on the PC, I worked on the storyboards. Ordinarily I don't storyboard with my short films, but since there are a LOT of shots in this movie (at a guess, there will be at least 300 shots in the movie, possibly 400) and because I'll be using multiple cameramen and D.O.P.'s it'd be good to have a frame of reference for everyone. Might upload some of the weirder boards one of these days.
But yes, the multiple cameramen. The shooting schedule's gonna be spread out over several weekends (going well into the fasting month and after it) and I can't get one single cameraman and D.O.P. who'll be available for every weekend till we get this movie in the can (or, in the case of our current digital wave, in the hard drive). So instead I'm getting a bunch of guys who'll be taking shifts. On some weekends, it might even end up with one cameraman going on till 3pm and another will take over till 7pm. Such is the world of low budget-ness.
Another issue about the movie came up over the weekend and that is the MVA's (Malaysian Video Awards). Apparently the call for entries is in mid-October, which means there is no way in hell my feature length's gonna make it in. I'm contemplating sending my past two short films but also tempted to shoot something over the next weekend, just to stick in the MVA's. If only I had an idea...
See, with the short films I'm usually testing a technique that I'm not sure about. With Nicotine I wanted to see whether I could do a voice over driven movie and also whether my colour-to-black & white fade worked. With Some Like It White I wanted to see how much I could control pacing and dialogue through the edit. There are a few techniques I want to test out for the feature film, I'm just not sure what kind of short film dramatic context I could wrap it around.
Grammar deteriorating. Must have cigarette.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Action Sequence
When the cats away the mouse doth play. I've been trying to board up one of the action sequences in the movie I'm making, 'Ciplak'. I've never had to storyboard something before so I thought I'd have a practice run at it, see if I can get the shots in my head and put them to pen and paper.
One thing I had to make sure I kept in mind was the fact that this would be the first action sequence I've ever shot, and to top it all off it involves a car and a skateboard (with a slight homage to Back to the Future and Trainspotting thrown in the mix). I need to keep in mind that
(a) We have no stunt drivers or stunt cars, so a lot of the car scenes will have to be easy and safe enough for anyone to pull off, yet with the cunning use of camera trickery look badass.
(b) I also have to keep in mind the fact that I have no stunt double, and will be doing as much skating as I can. I'm planning to meet up with Paul at some point and see if he knows any pro skaters that could pass as my double. Worst case scenario, stick a pillow in the guys t-shirt and it'll pass for my belly. If we can't get a double, tricks will have to be kept to a minimum. After all, if you're being chased by three thugs in a car the last thing you're going to do is try and pull some kickflip-backside-tailslide-shuvit-out's. Unless you we're really trying to show off.
(c) I haven't figured out the location for this action sequence. It needs to be somewhere open with quite a bit of road, but also very quiet, with minimum cars around.
(d) I'll be shooting without a permit, so wherever it is, it better be somewhere the cops rarely visit.
At one point I was thinking of taking out the skate-car-chase-scene but it's too damn fun and leads the action to the third act. By this point in time in the film you need a little balls-out action to keep the story going and interesting.
It's also quite funny in it's homage-y-ness.
Further updates as the pre-pro progresses: Right now half the cast is agreed, which includes myself, my parents (who'll be playing my characters parents, which shouldn't be too much of a stretch), Nazneen, Farah (Saiful's sister who looks nothing like him. All the good genes went to her), Saiful (as Farah's character's brother. See, we keep it all in the family) and an assortment of others. I'm trying to figure out who else to cast, a lot of the other roles are minor but would be fun to do (if any of y'all are interested holla back).
Either way, this Sunday my production manager (Diana) and I have to start scheduling everyone. Shouldn't be too difficult. Only problem is I need to finish and polish my second draft before we can start scheduling. Aargh.
Man Meth'! Any idea what kind of camera your film-buddies have? If it's looking to be something decent enough, holla back. I'll figure out how to wire you a budget for tapes and postage and stuff. Still haven't worked on Zash's character yet. Will let you know.
One thing I had to make sure I kept in mind was the fact that this would be the first action sequence I've ever shot, and to top it all off it involves a car and a skateboard (with a slight homage to Back to the Future and Trainspotting thrown in the mix). I need to keep in mind that
(a) We have no stunt drivers or stunt cars, so a lot of the car scenes will have to be easy and safe enough for anyone to pull off, yet with the cunning use of camera trickery look badass.
(b) I also have to keep in mind the fact that I have no stunt double, and will be doing as much skating as I can. I'm planning to meet up with Paul at some point and see if he knows any pro skaters that could pass as my double. Worst case scenario, stick a pillow in the guys t-shirt and it'll pass for my belly. If we can't get a double, tricks will have to be kept to a minimum. After all, if you're being chased by three thugs in a car the last thing you're going to do is try and pull some kickflip-backside-tailslide-shuvit-out's. Unless you we're really trying to show off.
(c) I haven't figured out the location for this action sequence. It needs to be somewhere open with quite a bit of road, but also very quiet, with minimum cars around.
(d) I'll be shooting without a permit, so wherever it is, it better be somewhere the cops rarely visit.
At one point I was thinking of taking out the skate-car-chase-scene but it's too damn fun and leads the action to the third act. By this point in time in the film you need a little balls-out action to keep the story going and interesting.
It's also quite funny in it's homage-y-ness.
Further updates as the pre-pro progresses: Right now half the cast is agreed, which includes myself, my parents (who'll be playing my characters parents, which shouldn't be too much of a stretch), Nazneen, Farah (Saiful's sister who looks nothing like him. All the good genes went to her), Saiful (as Farah's character's brother. See, we keep it all in the family) and an assortment of others. I'm trying to figure out who else to cast, a lot of the other roles are minor but would be fun to do (if any of y'all are interested holla back).
Either way, this Sunday my production manager (Diana) and I have to start scheduling everyone. Shouldn't be too difficult. Only problem is I need to finish and polish my second draft before we can start scheduling. Aargh.
Man Meth'! Any idea what kind of camera your film-buddies have? If it's looking to be something decent enough, holla back. I'll figure out how to wire you a budget for tapes and postage and stuff. Still haven't worked on Zash's character yet. Will let you know.
Friday, September 9, 2005
So Far, So Noonch
The cast is slowly coming together. Peter Brown asked about the last script and to not let the actions of one person who has mysteriously dissapeared to affect its production so I e-mailed him with my fuzzy logic and reasoning. I hope he comes 'round.
Man Method has been a wonderful sounding board. We're currently in the midst of e-mail to and fro ping-pong action of ideas. If all goes well, some sequences will be shot in the UK via his various contacts. If anyone asks, I'm saying we flew over.
"Yes, we bought numerous return tickets to shoot in London over the weekend."
"But it's only ten minutes of footage..."
"It don't mean a thing if you got mega-bling."
In truth, we have a budget of... my upcoming paycheck. Give or take. However, on each day there shouldn't be more than 4 or 5 people on set, so that should save in feeding costs for cast & crew.
Except for my third act action scene, of course. Perhaps I should take out insurance...
Another worry has come to light, however. One that you may have noticed me blab about before but regardless will blab again.
I'm playing the lead and I'm a tubby bitch.
The first signs of just how tubby I was and how it would affect the shoot came when I tried on a t-shirt last weekend. I loved that fucking t-shirt. And they didn't have my size.
Then two days ago: I finally saw the footage of my interview on TV. TV adds about 10 pounds, they say. In that case it transformed me from John Candy to Jabba the Hutt. I kid you not. They kept using a low angle which made my double chin look like I was the fucking Budweiser frog.
I know what Meth's probably thinking as he reads this: 'get someone else to play the part'. Unfortunately it's hard enough trying to find people that fit the other characters as it is. And I want to play it. Orson Welles style.
Or Ed Wood. I guess we'll find out when it's finished which one I take to.
...
...if it's the latter, at least I have a very cool biopic to look forward to. Till then, I won't be helping my belly issues any by going to the Loft@Zouk tonight, but someone's agreed to foot the bill. And it's a she. So far, so noonch.
Kevin Smith's gonna sue my ass.
Man Method has been a wonderful sounding board. We're currently in the midst of e-mail to and fro ping-pong action of ideas. If all goes well, some sequences will be shot in the UK via his various contacts. If anyone asks, I'm saying we flew over.
"Yes, we bought numerous return tickets to shoot in London over the weekend."
"But it's only ten minutes of footage..."
"It don't mean a thing if you got mega-bling."
In truth, we have a budget of... my upcoming paycheck. Give or take. However, on each day there shouldn't be more than 4 or 5 people on set, so that should save in feeding costs for cast & crew.
Except for my third act action scene, of course. Perhaps I should take out insurance...
Another worry has come to light, however. One that you may have noticed me blab about before but regardless will blab again.
I'm playing the lead and I'm a tubby bitch.
The first signs of just how tubby I was and how it would affect the shoot came when I tried on a t-shirt last weekend. I loved that fucking t-shirt. And they didn't have my size.
Then two days ago: I finally saw the footage of my interview on TV. TV adds about 10 pounds, they say. In that case it transformed me from John Candy to Jabba the Hutt. I kid you not. They kept using a low angle which made my double chin look like I was the fucking Budweiser frog.
I know what Meth's probably thinking as he reads this: 'get someone else to play the part'. Unfortunately it's hard enough trying to find people that fit the other characters as it is. And I want to play it. Orson Welles style.
Or Ed Wood. I guess we'll find out when it's finished which one I take to.
...
...if it's the latter, at least I have a very cool biopic to look forward to. Till then, I won't be helping my belly issues any by going to the Loft@Zouk tonight, but someone's agreed to foot the bill. And it's a she. So far, so noonch.
Kevin Smith's gonna sue my ass.
Pussy Cleansing
That's it.This time, they've gone too fucking far.
Asking a copywriter to write French is one thing, but this... this...
Sigh.
I've got to come up with 8 concise single sentence tips on how to best clean your vagina.
It's gonna be in supermarket and pharmacy aisles, so it's recommended I stay away from the words 'vulva', 'vagina', 'labia' and 'yeast'.
I never realized how much care a vagina needs. And all the descriptions and images are making me feel incredibly uncomfortable.
I have only been staring at vulva's for ten minutes, but already I feel I need to take a break. No offence, ladies, but some things we'd rather not know. I don't think any of you women want to know about dick cheese (a problem not suffered by the circumcised, btw).
Yeast. Yeast for fucks sake...
Wednesday, September 7, 2005
Cast, Motherfucker
Things are going well so far on the casting front. For the sake of simplicity and to minimize possible ego-trips on the part of the actors I'm only using people I know so far and I doubt I'll need to audition anyone for now.
The flip-side of the coin is that since I haven't auditioned the cast I don't know whether they'll do a good reading. Although that's not too much of a worry. I casted people based on their personality and look in relation to the character.
No, Nazneen, that does not mean I think you're a bitch.
So far, most of the primary cast have agreed. Still gotta schedule the bugger, though.
The flip-side of the coin is that since I haven't auditioned the cast I don't know whether they'll do a good reading. Although that's not too much of a worry. I casted people based on their personality and look in relation to the character.
No, Nazneen, that does not mean I think you're a bitch.
So far, most of the primary cast have agreed. Still gotta schedule the bugger, though.
Monday, September 5, 2005
The Parent Factor
So I had lunch with my parents today. My father had been calling me almost every night just to see how I was and I assume it's because everytime I come home they're asleep and everytime I wake up they've already left for work. I figured lunch would put them both at ease.
Besides, I had something to discuss with them. I had always felt that my script-writing and filmmaking was a taboo subject that I had to keep hidden from them. I'd have nightmares of them seeing one of my films in horror of the language and subject matter before turning to me and screaming,
"how dare you right this FILTH!? Begone! Begone, I say!"
Strangely, it turned out quite the contrary.
We went to Italliani's at Cosway (excellent meatballs) and I introduced them to the owner, Gino. Then, to business. I explained what short films I had done and what my upcoming movie was about. I told them what happens in the movie. I told them about the subject matter. I told them it would probably get banned.
My mom agreed,
"It's all politics, they probably will ban it."
Then she said,
"Let me guess. You use the word 'shit' a lot in it, don't you?"
"Well," I replied, "I stayed away from the f-word."
But here's the thing: they did not once look dissaproving, or overly concerned, or angry or worried. I could be mistaken, but I think there was a semblance of pride in their smiles. Regardless, they did give the impression that they would not intrude, not interrupt or try to steer me otherwise. They seemed to... accept it.
That was weird.
So I've cast them in the movie. They'll play the parents, who were based on them to begin with so it shouldn't be too much of a stretch.
Although now I have to adjust their scenes in the schedule because they're flying off to Geneva on holiday (to my mom, it's holiday. To my father, it's work).
Full steam ahead.
Besides, I had something to discuss with them. I had always felt that my script-writing and filmmaking was a taboo subject that I had to keep hidden from them. I'd have nightmares of them seeing one of my films in horror of the language and subject matter before turning to me and screaming,
"how dare you right this FILTH!? Begone! Begone, I say!"
Strangely, it turned out quite the contrary.
We went to Italliani's at Cosway (excellent meatballs) and I introduced them to the owner, Gino. Then, to business. I explained what short films I had done and what my upcoming movie was about. I told them what happens in the movie. I told them about the subject matter. I told them it would probably get banned.
My mom agreed,
"It's all politics, they probably will ban it."
Then she said,
"Let me guess. You use the word 'shit' a lot in it, don't you?"
"Well," I replied, "I stayed away from the f-word."
But here's the thing: they did not once look dissaproving, or overly concerned, or angry or worried. I could be mistaken, but I think there was a semblance of pride in their smiles. Regardless, they did give the impression that they would not intrude, not interrupt or try to steer me otherwise. They seemed to... accept it.
That was weird.
So I've cast them in the movie. They'll play the parents, who were based on them to begin with so it shouldn't be too much of a stretch.
Although now I have to adjust their scenes in the schedule because they're flying off to Geneva on holiday (to my mom, it's holiday. To my father, it's work).
Full steam ahead.
Cocksmoking Bribery
So last Friday a colleague of mine went out for drinks with other colleagues. For blogging's sake, we'll call her 'Maria'.
When one of the colleagues left early he called back and warned the others at the bar that one of the roads in KL had a roadblock. Maria, tipsy as she was, completely forgot and made her way down that same road later that night.
The cops pulled her over.
One quick check on a breathalyser test and the cops had proof that she was driving under the influence. One of the cops stepped into the car. The cop did the usual schtick, telling her what the penalty was, buying time until Maria would ask the question.
Maria knew what question he was waiting for. Finally she asked,
"Sir, is there any way we can work this out?"
The cop looked around, made sure they were in a dark area and asked her in not so many words to,
"Suck my dick."
I'm serious.
Now, Maria's quite a cute looking little hottie and let's face facts, the cops here are about as law abiding as the citizens, but this is genuinely fucked up. And if you think about it, if a cop would even ask that question then wouldn't that imply that he's had his dick sucked many times before by young females slightly tipsy clubbers on their way home from Zouk trying to get out of an overnight stay in jail?
'Bad Lieutenant', anyone?
And have you ever seen a Malay cop? They're not exactly hunks-a-burning-love. Let's put it this way: they're obviously eating well and the term 'handlebars' often springs to mind. Immediately followed by 'grease'.
Maria was shocked as shit. She kept saying no, the cop kept asking her to. She kept refusing so the cop changed tactics.
"How about a kiss, then?"
Maria said no. And no and no. Out of curiosity, she asked for how long.
"20 seconds."
"Eww...! Why does it have to be so long?!"
"Because I want our tongues to spend some time together in each others mouths."
"EWWWWW!!!"
Finally, he accepted cash.
I am intensely curious as to how many young females have sucked a cops dick to get out of trouble...
When one of the colleagues left early he called back and warned the others at the bar that one of the roads in KL had a roadblock. Maria, tipsy as she was, completely forgot and made her way down that same road later that night.
The cops pulled her over.
One quick check on a breathalyser test and the cops had proof that she was driving under the influence. One of the cops stepped into the car. The cop did the usual schtick, telling her what the penalty was, buying time until Maria would ask the question.
Maria knew what question he was waiting for. Finally she asked,
"Sir, is there any way we can work this out?"
The cop looked around, made sure they were in a dark area and asked her in not so many words to,
"Suck my dick."
I'm serious.
Now, Maria's quite a cute looking little hottie and let's face facts, the cops here are about as law abiding as the citizens, but this is genuinely fucked up. And if you think about it, if a cop would even ask that question then wouldn't that imply that he's had his dick sucked many times before by young females slightly tipsy clubbers on their way home from Zouk trying to get out of an overnight stay in jail?
'Bad Lieutenant', anyone?
And have you ever seen a Malay cop? They're not exactly hunks-a-burning-love. Let's put it this way: they're obviously eating well and the term 'handlebars' often springs to mind. Immediately followed by 'grease'.
Maria was shocked as shit. She kept saying no, the cop kept asking her to. She kept refusing so the cop changed tactics.
"How about a kiss, then?"
Maria said no. And no and no. Out of curiosity, she asked for how long.
"20 seconds."
"Eww...! Why does it have to be so long?!"
"Because I want our tongues to spend some time together in each others mouths."
"EWWWWW!!!"
Finally, he accepted cash.
I am intensely curious as to how many young females have sucked a cops dick to get out of trouble...
Sunday, September 4, 2005
Ciplak
Did you know that Malaysia is the number one exporter of pirated optical disc products in the world?
Did you know that the reason why a number of films come out in England much later than in the US is because Hollywood thinks of the U.K. as a secondary market?
Jo knows this. And like many other Malaysian students studying abroad, everytime Jo comes back to uni in London he brings with him DVD's of movies the UK won't see for a good few months.
Most Malaysian students bring these pirated DVD's for personal pleasure.
Some Malaysian students bring these pirated DVD's to sell to their classmates.
Jo brings them to sell to bootlegger's in East London for 50 quid a pop. They copy them and sell them on the black market.
It's Jo's last day in KL for his Easter holidays before returning back for his last term in City University. He's ready for the big score. He's got the buyer waiting. He's got it all planned.
If only he knew there'd be a raid.
You read it here first. Draft one is complete and in the midst of a rewrite. Shooting begins on October 1st by hook or by crook. Anybody nick this and I'll feed you to the fricking leeches. These posts are dated on servers in the UK and I'll sue you, America-style.
However, if you'd like to help out or audition or by some twisted miracle want to give me money to produce this movie that will almost definitely be banned, let me know.
(c)Copyright 2005 Khairil M. Bahar. All Rights Reserved.
Did you know that the reason why a number of films come out in England much later than in the US is because Hollywood thinks of the U.K. as a secondary market?
Jo knows this. And like many other Malaysian students studying abroad, everytime Jo comes back to uni in London he brings with him DVD's of movies the UK won't see for a good few months.
Most Malaysian students bring these pirated DVD's for personal pleasure.
Some Malaysian students bring these pirated DVD's to sell to their classmates.
Jo brings them to sell to bootlegger's in East London for 50 quid a pop. They copy them and sell them on the black market.
It's Jo's last day in KL for his Easter holidays before returning back for his last term in City University. He's ready for the big score. He's got the buyer waiting. He's got it all planned.
If only he knew there'd be a raid.
You read it here first. Draft one is complete and in the midst of a rewrite. Shooting begins on October 1st by hook or by crook. Anybody nick this and I'll feed you to the fricking leeches. These posts are dated on servers in the UK and I'll sue you, America-style.
However, if you'd like to help out or audition or by some twisted miracle want to give me money to produce this movie that will almost definitely be banned, let me know.
(c)Copyright 2005 Khairil M. Bahar. All Rights Reserved.
Friday, September 2, 2005
The Nightmares Are Back
What's a man gotta do to get some sleep around here?
Last night was weird. Super weird. Three nightmares in a row, each waking me up in the middle of the night, each pissing me off and depriving me of a good nights sleep. I can even remember the first one because it felt so real.
There I was, leaving work, walking to my car. Except it wasn't my car. I drove to work in my ex's car. Along the way the clubs were already starting up their nights of excess and hookers littered the streets and I couldn't find her car.
She was gonna kill me.
It wasn't where I parked it. I double checked and triple checked. I walked up and down the entire area, maybe I parked it somewhere else.
But it's gone. It's gone, and she's gonna scream and shout and berate and belittle me like she did all those times before. She's gonna make me feel two inches tall and I'm gonna take it like a little bitch because I had no idea how to stand up for myself when I was with her.
I press the button of the car alarm. Nothing.
Nada.
Zip. Zit. Zero.
The biiiig goose egg.
The hookers hassle me, the lights strobe my eyes and the panic floods over me like fire ants, nipping and biting and stinging me throughout.
I won't get out of this alive.
I'm dead.
I'm gonna lose.
I'm... hang on. I'm not going out with her anymore, am I?
And with that I woke up in my bed at 3am, tense and alert, coiled spring, wondering what the fuck is going on in my head that it thought to bring that up.
The rest of the night wasn't any better. Dreams of dodgy alleyways in London, femme fatales who'd be the death of me, department stores from hell and evil fleshy bits.
I don't like the fleshy bits.
By the time morning came I was dead tired. I hadn't had any proper sleep at all and moma cat was dying for attention.
Dear God, let me sleep.
Last night was weird. Super weird. Three nightmares in a row, each waking me up in the middle of the night, each pissing me off and depriving me of a good nights sleep. I can even remember the first one because it felt so real.
There I was, leaving work, walking to my car. Except it wasn't my car. I drove to work in my ex's car. Along the way the clubs were already starting up their nights of excess and hookers littered the streets and I couldn't find her car.
She was gonna kill me.
It wasn't where I parked it. I double checked and triple checked. I walked up and down the entire area, maybe I parked it somewhere else.
But it's gone. It's gone, and she's gonna scream and shout and berate and belittle me like she did all those times before. She's gonna make me feel two inches tall and I'm gonna take it like a little bitch because I had no idea how to stand up for myself when I was with her.
I press the button of the car alarm. Nothing.
Nada.
Zip. Zit. Zero.
The biiiig goose egg.
The hookers hassle me, the lights strobe my eyes and the panic floods over me like fire ants, nipping and biting and stinging me throughout.
I won't get out of this alive.
I'm dead.
I'm gonna lose.
I'm... hang on. I'm not going out with her anymore, am I?
And with that I woke up in my bed at 3am, tense and alert, coiled spring, wondering what the fuck is going on in my head that it thought to bring that up.
The rest of the night wasn't any better. Dreams of dodgy alleyways in London, femme fatales who'd be the death of me, department stores from hell and evil fleshy bits.
I don't like the fleshy bits.
By the time morning came I was dead tired. I hadn't had any proper sleep at all and moma cat was dying for attention.
Dear God, let me sleep.
So I Was Writing My CV Today...
...what an inane fucking task that was.
God, it's been so long since I wrote a CV I almost forgot what one looked like. To top it all off, I don't have my old CV (or my old portfolio of made up ads, for that matter) saved anywhere. Probably at home. I think. I hope.
It's weird, though. Reading all your supposed 'accomplishments' and lists of 'experience' and 'skills' can elicit one of three reactions:
"Goddamn, I'm pretty badass!"
"Goddamn, I haven't done shit in 4 years!"
"Goddamn, I can bullshit like a motherfucker!"
I'm feeling a cocktail of the three.
I also pulled off the faux-pas of the day by describing a talent of mixed nationality as a 'mix-breed'. I just kinda blurted it out.
But what a wonderful mix-breed she was. 20 years old, Malay/Euro combo, a cross between Katie Holmes and Siti Nurhaliza. We have a video of her doing the hair flick thing repeatedly, shot from behind as she smiles at us over the shoulder. Lovely figure, pretty eyes, gorgeous smile and yes, baby got back.
Next to us, one of the art directors had numerous CV's and body shots of dozens of Chinese female talents. Some of the poses were also very enticing in the Southern regions.
A colleague noticed the video and recognized her. Aparently she's married.
How evil.
God, it's been so long since I wrote a CV I almost forgot what one looked like. To top it all off, I don't have my old CV (or my old portfolio of made up ads, for that matter) saved anywhere. Probably at home. I think. I hope.
It's weird, though. Reading all your supposed 'accomplishments' and lists of 'experience' and 'skills' can elicit one of three reactions:
"Goddamn, I'm pretty badass!"
"Goddamn, I haven't done shit in 4 years!"
"Goddamn, I can bullshit like a motherfucker!"
I'm feeling a cocktail of the three.
I also pulled off the faux-pas of the day by describing a talent of mixed nationality as a 'mix-breed'. I just kinda blurted it out.
But what a wonderful mix-breed she was. 20 years old, Malay/Euro combo, a cross between Katie Holmes and Siti Nurhaliza. We have a video of her doing the hair flick thing repeatedly, shot from behind as she smiles at us over the shoulder. Lovely figure, pretty eyes, gorgeous smile and yes, baby got back.
Next to us, one of the art directors had numerous CV's and body shots of dozens of Chinese female talents. Some of the poses were also very enticing in the Southern regions.
A colleague noticed the video and recognized her. Aparently she's married.
How evil.
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