Prelude to Exodus

Today may be the last day of my present form of monotony, though I may exchange it for a worse one. Tomorrow, I will head off to join the seasonal staff of Center Court Displays, a little company that owns and installs Christmas decorations for malls and casinos. I will bebop around. During the days, I’ll be staying in hotels they’ve provided, eating on their meal passes. Through the nights, I’ll be hanging enormous Christmas decorations. Nocturnal Christmas installations for one month.

My schedule looks like this:

Monday, November 1st – Friday, November 5th:
Park City Mall, Lancaster PA.

Saturday, November 6th – Wednesday, November 10th:
Jersey Gardens Mall, Elizabeth NJ.

Thursday, November 11th – Sunday, November 14th:
Landmark Mall, Alexandria, VA.

Monday, November 15th:
Travel to Las Vegas.

Tuesday, November 16th – Wednesday, December 1st
Ceasar’s Casino and Forum Shops, Las Vegas, NV

Thursday, December 2nd
Travel Home.

Somewhere in there, I will somehow find a way to contact the management company that’s promised me an interview. That interview will take place in late November. To pursue that non-paying three-month internship, I will probably have to skip a couple days at the paid job I’m on, rent a car, and drive to Sherman Oaks, up in Los Angeles, CA.

The idea is very troubling. I won’t know what hotels I’ll be staying in until I get there. I don’t know if there will be internet, or what my life will be like. I don’t know when the interview will be. I don’t know how they will take my exit, or how it will fit into my flight schedule. I don’t know anything. All I know is the sort of people I’ll have to spend my time with, having worked with some of them at the Amusement Piers in summers past – and I don’t look forward to resuming their acquaintance.

I hope that the visitors, who’ve kindly offered to stop in, may actually come.

If, by some fluke, I actually get the internship, I would have to move immediately to LA, since it begins on December 13th. I’d be traveling out on the 8th of December, and who knows where I could find to live at such short notice.

So, this could very well be the end of this three-month period of my life, and the beginning of a very hectic, uncertain period indeed. I wish I could say that I felt more up to it.

For now, I’m going to give Bacon a bath.

Fools! Idiots! The Lot of Them!

I look TOTALLY NOT tastey.

I am Inspiration Soup. I live to Inspire
those around me with my green beany, white
chunky, red soupy goodness. Many have come and
lit candles in my honor. I’ve inspired
them to become better people. Thank me,
Inspiration Soup… thank me!

What Weight Watchers recipe card from 1974 are you?

Sleeping Muse

I’m having a very hard time finding motivation. I’m having a very easy time finding resistance. I’m repulsed almost by the act of writing. Looking forward to a month of hanging Christmas decorations, without a project to return to at the end of the day, or an idea to consume the hours during it, is not appealing at all.

Since, of late, the things I’ve been successful in writing have all been for production, I can only imagine that my reluctance still rests in my desire for interaction. Even now, two years later, it appears that Darwin’s Kids has spoiled me. Before it, I had no problem losing myself in a project, even with only one interested party, even if that party was only me. Now, without feedback, without people waiting for the next draft, without dreaming about and debating over the production, I can’t get through the surface.

My thoughts drift. My will is weak.

I’ve never felt in such a haze; I don’t feel engaged. My old dependable obsession has left me. Where is the madness? Have I grown sane, and lost my work ethic as a result? Is it simply a phase, or has rejection and isolation beaten me down? I can’t even focus on this entry, except to think that it is a dull list of complaints. The critical devil on my shoulder, always nearly mute, now out-screams the obsessive muse. She seems to be asleep.

Lithium Bromide

I am feeling wretchedly untalented this evening. In response to a bunch of screenplay synopses that I sent to a producer, who requested said synopses, I received the following message:

“It’s hard to tell, based on your synopses, whether I would like to read the scripts or not. They could all go either way, be fascinating and brilliant, or somewhat bromidic. That can be a good thing, you make me curious, but people with little time, might put you back on the stack.”

For those who aren’t certain, here’s what I think that means:

bromidic adj 1: dull and tiresome but with pretensions of significance or originality; [syn: corny, platitudinal, platitudinous]

To make myself feel less like a complete jerk, I did what I often do: I made a list of things I have accomplished. My list looked like this:

This is a very pretentious and, ultimately, silly list. I decided I had better start anew. So I’ve been working on a new short script. This is what I have so far:

And this is a picture of some e-mail I got:

I thought it was appropriate. This entry proves that I’m a big dick in action.

And, just to finish off my photo fun (which prevents me from having to write), here’s a picture from explodingdog.com called stupidwords.

I’m off to smoke and wonder what became of everyone.

A Souvenir

Here is a souvenir from my little tiny road-trip up the east coast, through North Hampton and Amherst, through Boston and Salem, to a little Sheraton shaped like a castle, up in a town called Braintree.

Where I’ve Been

Create your own visited states map

Not Up for Discussion

John Kerry won.