Welcome to my new series where I share the short horror films I made for Just Scare Me (more on that below) and the behind-the-scenes stories of each shoot. First up is our inaugural short, Sir Stirs.Read More »
First, I must state for those of you who do not know me: I’m white. I’ve lived in a middle class setting for most of my life, and for many reasons, I’ve struggled in that life. But I cannot even begin to comprehend the discrimination, hatred, and racism the BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) have endured over the past several hundred years. My point in this post is to equate a striking revelation I had while out on the street today. It’s not meant to ignore the situation, but it’s about how we, as a society, have become cavalier about racial bias in this country. Most importantly, it’s not enough.
Silent solidarity isn’t going to cut it anymore.
We need to enact change so that our “new normal” post-COVID includes a revolution on how we treat the BIPOC.
On the street today, a woman in yoga pants and a sports bra chatted with two men on the street. Her husky laid at her feet, with striking blue eyes, panting happily in the shade. They likely went for a run, and the poor pup sure needed the rest. I didn’t hear the specifics of the conversation, but it was one of a friendly manner. They spoke in length about something. They all shared a smile as they chatted. They candor was that of people on the same level.Read More »
Well, would you look at that! We came back to share our thoughts on the state of the entertainment world during this pandemic! Just what you need: another reminder of your existential dread!
Well, here we go again. I’m back reviewing older films regarded in some circles as “classics” – only now – I’m watching films that I have never before seen. That’s right, all of these films I’ll be viewing in 2020 are completely new to me. Some of these guilty omissions will surprise you.
The goal of this experiment is to determine whether or not these films stand the test of time while also matching my preconceived notions regarding their plot. Time shifts memories of things, especially when I had only watched a trailer a few times as a kid.
So sit back, grab your favorite beverage, and welcome to…
Let’s start with the obvious. I’ve been away from this channel for quite some time, and yeah, I miss it. I thought that in order to be more productive in my writing career, I had to focus on the projects that could lead to paid gigs, like my screenplays. But then, I’d get home after a long day, and I’d do nothing, or waste time. The point is, I wasn’t writing.
When I wrote new blog posts in the past, it utilized a different part of the brain, but at the end of the day, I used my brain. The constant stream of output allowed the narrative functions to relax, and the analytical processes to ignite. I loved the feeling of being productive in multiple facets. If I was able to paint something (that I didn’t hate), I’d do that more, but even if I painted something God awful now, it would serve the same purpose as a blog. It’s an expression of the mind through other channels and that’s freeing. I miss that.
So here’s what I’m going to do.
Today, I was gobsmacked with a wave of nostalgia. I went to a new restaurant for my office’s lunch run, Belcampo, on 3rd Street in LA, and it was there (in the Verve coffee shop next door) where I spent many a day typing away at my creative endeavors. Whether the focus was My Cancer Story, a screenplay, or the then-numerous blog posts (yeah, sorry about that), I spent my free time (of which I had ample supply then) ticking away at my form of expression. On November 8th, it will have been three years since I moved into my first apartment here, the temporary room rental on Blackburn Ave.
I’ve done it. After five painstaking months, I’ve completed the third draft of “Thank God for Cancer” (formerly My Cancer Story). If you’re a consistent reader of mine, you’ve likely noticed my absence from the blog. Now that I’m a Writer’s PA (first on Ratched, now on 9-1-1), finding free time is hard, especially when I was knee-deep into the hardest draft of any piece of written work I’ve attempted in my life.