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...and that'll be the first and last Pink Floyd reference we'll be dropping.
Went out for a look at the lunar eclipse. Cool beans. Did I ever tell you about the time I burned out half of my right retina looking at a solar eclipse? True story. Gosh, that was only about 40 miles from here, 40 miles and 29 years. Back when I was the roller disco queen of the Alameda County Fair, and I'd spend my days and nights watching channel 2, where in the mornings Bob Wilkins would put on a space suit and be Captain Cosmic, and on the weekends he would host the horror movies--usually with advice like "don't stay up late and watch this garbage--it's not worth it." I miss Bob Wilkins. You know what I also miss? My right retina. I misread the instructions. So sue me.
That fall I had this huge crush on this boy in the fairgrounds trailer park but the closest I got was when I was Colonel Wilma in our Buck Rogers reenactment. If it wasn't for my stirring interpretations of Princess Leia, Colonel Wilma, and Cassiopeia the space prostitute from Battlestar Galactica, all my male elementary school friends would have wasted their whole days blasting aliens and blowing up robots instead of talking about our space-relationships and space-feelings and playing space-house. Did you know the Millennium Falcon had a full kitchen and baby nursery? Yeah, neither did my friends. Until I informed them. And you should have seen the Clinique counter on the Death Star.
There was an earthquake then, my first. I was in the trailer and I thought someone had hooked onto it and was stealing it, with me in it. The aforementioned boy came running to see if I was okay. It was sweet. Afterwards we sat there, inappropriately close, brought together by the harrowing experience of a mild five-second tremor, and watched Ultraman until the adults came home and ruined everything, as adults are wont to do. Still one of my better dates.
In retrospect I may have wasted 99% of my love on clueless idiots. Also in retrospect I may have underestimated that figure by roughly 1%.
I've been working--no, for real--for my friend J's animal foundation/shelter. She had someone quit and needed some extra help. It's been way too physical for my delicate, asthmatic-carnival-glass-Emily-Dickinson constitution, but I'm trying to fight through it. There's also a bunch of stuff happening with the film, but since I can't talk about that stuff yet, just imagine it's something really outlandish like I'm shooting the whole thing with a cast of monkeys or Thunderbirds marionettes or something. In fact--you know, I should do that. For the DVD extras.
I'm really, really tired. Weird to be bandying around these crazy make-a-movie type budget numbers and then trying to figure out how to come up with $30 for groceries. I've got a ton of stuff I want to be working on, too, but it's hard to write when everything's so--yeah.
It'll all be okay. I have faith. Actually it could go either way, but I thought I should go out on a high note.
Went out for a look at the lunar eclipse. Cool beans. Did I ever tell you about the time I burned out half of my right retina looking at a solar eclipse? True story. Gosh, that was only about 40 miles from here, 40 miles and 29 years. Back when I was the roller disco queen of the Alameda County Fair, and I'd spend my days and nights watching channel 2, where in the mornings Bob Wilkins would put on a space suit and be Captain Cosmic, and on the weekends he would host the horror movies--usually with advice like "don't stay up late and watch this garbage--it's not worth it." I miss Bob Wilkins. You know what I also miss? My right retina. I misread the instructions. So sue me.
That fall I had this huge crush on this boy in the fairgrounds trailer park but the closest I got was when I was Colonel Wilma in our Buck Rogers reenactment. If it wasn't for my stirring interpretations of Princess Leia, Colonel Wilma, and Cassiopeia the space prostitute from Battlestar Galactica, all my male elementary school friends would have wasted their whole days blasting aliens and blowing up robots instead of talking about our space-relationships and space-feelings and playing space-house. Did you know the Millennium Falcon had a full kitchen and baby nursery? Yeah, neither did my friends. Until I informed them. And you should have seen the Clinique counter on the Death Star.
There was an earthquake then, my first. I was in the trailer and I thought someone had hooked onto it and was stealing it, with me in it. The aforementioned boy came running to see if I was okay. It was sweet. Afterwards we sat there, inappropriately close, brought together by the harrowing experience of a mild five-second tremor, and watched Ultraman until the adults came home and ruined everything, as adults are wont to do. Still one of my better dates.
In retrospect I may have wasted 99% of my love on clueless idiots. Also in retrospect I may have underestimated that figure by roughly 1%.
I've been working--no, for real--for my friend J's animal foundation/shelter. She had someone quit and needed some extra help. It's been way too physical for my delicate, asthmatic-carnival-glass-Emily-Dickinson constitution, but I'm trying to fight through it. There's also a bunch of stuff happening with the film, but since I can't talk about that stuff yet, just imagine it's something really outlandish like I'm shooting the whole thing with a cast of monkeys or Thunderbirds marionettes or something. In fact--you know, I should do that. For the DVD extras.
I'm really, really tired. Weird to be bandying around these crazy make-a-movie type budget numbers and then trying to figure out how to come up with $30 for groceries. I've got a ton of stuff I want to be working on, too, but it's hard to write when everything's so--yeah.
It'll all be okay. I have faith. Actually it could go either way, but I thought I should go out on a high note.
