I wonder if I'm missing out on anything, not having enough girl friends. I have one close girl friend here, which is great but combined, our personalities come across as being rather androgynous, which is still great. Just occasionally, there's a side of me that misses being a trashbag ho. Film sets are full of tomboys and lesbians. I don't think I have any girlie girlfriends here thus I paint my own nails and the closest I can get to being feminine is when a gay sales assistant fake compliments my shoes.
I miss camwhoring with girls who know their cameras. I've had this weird fixation with dresses lately and I spent the whole of yesterday looking at fashion websites and http://lookbook.nu/ because I need more female companionship. It's so bad I've slipped talking about dresses a couple of times with my boy friend, of all people. I bet he thinks I'm crazy.
I want to share cigarettes and bottles of tequila with women I love and not be the only one with painted nails. Instead, I've been checking out and rating women with my guy friends, or boys with my boy friends; talking cameras and editing. I miss talking to girls about cameras and editing. I miss getting dressed up by Duygu for a photoshoot or asked to strike a pose by Liyana. I miss saving Melina when she's drunk and getting drunker with Diyana. Fong Yin, you're awesome and I'm lucky enough to see you often so I don't have to miss you too. ]=)
I'm looking up how to make chicken leek pie for Friday dinner. So far this looks to be the best recipe to model after. As in the comment, I don't know how necessary it would be to put whole onions in the pie to keep the pie crust from collapsing. I think if you fill it enough, it'll be fine. I'm a bit confused as to why you wouldn't have to bake the bottom crust first with a weight on top to keep the bottom crust from inflating though. I'll do it my way. See how it goes. And if all fails, I'll call momma. ]=)
So I'm not going through a very good time at the moment. That's probably reason enough for me to stop typing now although it's a good source of inspiration. My antibodies have broken down and it's like an infection of taboos and vices have broken me down by now.
Imagine there is a place, an Eden where you could do evil and not fear its repercussions. Earth is a place for me to play and create but if I was given a heaven, I would love to be able to get away with evil. I wish I could say everything to everyone and not pay for it later. Oh, I wish I could destroy buildings and crush spirits by the thousands. I wish I was a swarm of killer bees or a rumoured mountain lion that feasts on joggers. I'd crush their bones with my teeth and lick my paws with glee whilst planning to hit the local malls next. Buahahahahhahah!!! Or not. Malls are so accessible, they let just anyone in. Have you looked around shopping malls? People are ugly. Eww.
There is as much simple logic behind insanity as there is genius and it explains how Mr. Ice, The Joker and Two-Face came to be. They all tried to save the woman (or thing) they loved most. They all started off with the best intentions for science, family and justice and found themselves scorned and punished by them, which was what drove them to the edge. It's what drove them to not give a fuck anymore and to hate Batman because he started with everything and was delivered good intentions after the death of his family. It was not naturally imbued with him to have so much good faith, it was given to him the night his parents died. Mr Ice, The Joker and Two-Face started out as ordinary men who had good in them from the start but there was only so long that they could hold on.
It's not just that the hard drives disappeared cos it came back and I'll have a film after all... but I'm human. I get tired, that even took a lot out of me and I've found that what helps is having a few beers, slurring and making loud noises as women do, because GARBLE FEELS GREAT. That's the tricky thing about a broken heart. It can't always kill you but it can mess with how much oxygen travels to your brain. I guess I can't be as disappointed because everything's been put to restoration. I'm just really tired. Really really tired.
Never mind karma. Never mind good or evil or measuring it with a large teaspoon to decide the next course of your life. I have come to an undisputed conclusion that god loves fucking with me personally. Shit can only pile so high before it turns into a landslide. All I wanted to do was to make my film in peace and I couldn't even get that. Now I've got all these religious, happy people on Facebook telling me to keep my chin up, fight on and have faith in god. Whatever, you idiots. If you think I don't know how to fight off the worst, I do. It's just that I REALLY wanted to celebrate my birthday happily and rejoice in the splendour of having earned my rest, but no.
On the eve of my birthday, we wrapped up shoot. A couple of hours later, my producer calls to tell me no one could find the hard drives. Two of our hard drives - original and back up - with all our footage and sound, had been lost in god knows suburbia, who knows, forever. By Monday morning, my producer called again to say that the plastic bag and box containing the hard drives was found near our location. The hard drives were nowhere to be found. I was devastated, to say the least. Never mind how they got lost, the point was they needed to be found. I wasn't interested in a blame game.
That's the insane thing about doing film. It will test your limits to no end and generously do so. You can lose your mind on the cutting room floor and those are just the regular work hazards. After weeks of hard work and bliss I was suddenly fronted with the awful awful thought that I was never going to see my film turn into a film after two years of painstaking work, thousands of dollars and gallons of blood, sweat, tears and goodwill. NOT COOL. What could have caused this? I'm a nice girl, I've been sober for weeks; I work extremely hard, I try my best to do good and to not do evil onto others and this happened??!! I've been nice and god not only puts a coal in my stocking, he fucking sets it on fire.
The main crew put up ads in the Ipswich newspaper, radio and posted fliers all around town. Then last night my producer got word that the son of some lady who had seen the ad in the newspaper, was walking home from a party the other night and kicked said hard drive by accident. Kicked, omg. I thought my head was going to explode with relief and happiness. The weird thing was despite the broken case, the cables were all intact, as were the continuity sheets. We have all our footage back and we're backing it up onto every possible hard drive. The original hard drive is a little worse for wear as the casing's come off, it looks like it's been run over.
Seriously, after working my ass off, I'm angry. My producer told me that there was something to be learned, well isn't there always? Isn't there always some pot of gold at the end of the fucking rainbow? Well great. Thank you Mr God for setting me straight, not. I didn't ask for it. I thought I had enough life lessons to last me at least till this point save for one - it doesn't matter how much good you do, something's gonna find a way to kick you down. I am thankful that the hard drive came back but I feel like god has tested me so many times recently I just can't find it in me to take this well. I've done it so many times before. What the fuck do I care about some lesson learned, it was really really tiring to have to go through all that! I can usually look back at the shit I went through with good humour but this time round, it was very much unappreciated that I had to be sent into such arrest. I have the right to be angry. It was a bad day to end all bad days, birthdays even, and my boyfriend even thought it would be a great idea to pick a fight with me that night. Huzzah!!
I resent the notion that I'm not allowed to talk smack about god. I am so tired of having to be positive and having people tell me to keep my chin up, because I'm a fighter and I DON'T need this crap when I'm just trying to get on with my life. Messing with me is one thing, mess with my work and I'm gonna have my claws out. It's not fair that I've to be afraid of a vengeful god all the time and cower in the fear of being manipulated by his magical hand. Yeah, hazards in this line of work happen all the time but I am not amused. In fact, I am very upset. Do you have any idea what it's like to have all this photographic evidence and behind the scenes footage of a film that doesn't exist? It was the most gut wrenching feeling, especially since I was so attached to the script. GAH.
God can be cruel, playing an awful awful joke on me like that and I'm supposed to just take it because if I talk smack to god, I'm going to be struck by lightning some more. Geez. What a bully. I'm tired. I'm going to start on post production with my baby. I'm not letting it out of my sights again. What a hoo-ha. I don't know if my heart can deal with more stuff like this any longer. *sigh. And I'm irritated knowing that he'll come around again to mess with me. It's inevitable. Or maybe it wasn't god but sheer carelessness, even if it wasn't really on my part. I don't know why I'm trying so hard to find someone to blame, this just got so ridiculous. Still... May's a birthday month. I wish mine didn't get so hellish cos I was really looking forward to turning 22. It was pretty much the worst personal thing that could happen to me on the least expecting of days. Now I'm just going to watch all the other May babies celebrate happily knowing I didn't get my party. *sigh. At least my film's safe.
If you were to open up a business of your own, what would it be?
Submitted by beth.
My own film production/distribution company. Knew it in a heartbeat.
Buddhist
Do bad = Receive bad
Do good = Receive good
Screw up = do it all over again
Buddhists are kind of like the good cops, modern parents in the religious scene. Only problem with modern parents is they get walked all over and their kids think they're scum.
Do bad = Eventually go to hell and get licked by flames and stabbed by giant pitchforks designed for molestation
Do good = 70 virgins await for you in eternal cloudland beneath the glowing, warm embrace of god
Old fashioned parenting will reprimand you as you go but it's up to you to fuck up your own life eventually, if you so choose. "We did what we could." Getting in a booth and asking for forgiveness is kinda like having to sit in a corner and think about what you've done and you still get people who can't measure for themselves their rights and wrongs because their repercussions come in intangible lump sums after.
Call the local oral gigolo to make fun of him and put it up on the internet =
At least I don't fall into the category of Asian fetish material because I've said this before, I may be Asian but I'm a real woman, not a fetish. Do I look like I'm going to lick shit out of a cup for you? No. Fantasise away from my ear please and thank you and goodbye.
So now I'm cranky because I can't sleep and I'm a little annoyed, wondering if I really did bring this on myself. It's too early in the day. For that, I'm going to watch Ex Drummer till it's a sound enough hour to start running errands. *Hrmph.
New idiom for today: karma is like trying to eat a live fish. Don't expect it not to bite back.
Mmm.. sashimi.
First weekend of shooting Dream Cradle. Unfortunately I haven't any of the actual stills just yet. These are all photos from continuity.
I think I did well, considering it's my biggest production yet. I still have a way to go but oh my god, we got some beautiful shots thanks to Rich Wang, our brilliant DOP. Sascha was a superb First AD and of course I wouldn't be anywhere without Pasquale as producer nor our lovely actors. Damien was right when he said I must have something to have a crew of such caliber. I'm not sure what it is, luck probably, but working by their side was humbling and it made my job so much easier. Everyone was slick efficient. I'm quickly developing some techniques to directing and it's been a really great learning experience so far. It's pretty amazing how the script is so shootable because being broken into three different narratives, we can afford to shoot in throughout two weekends, which is invaluable to an independent production.
It's knowing exactly what you want before everyone else that's a challenge, but that's something that comes with practise and experience. I still think that for the lack thereof, I did really well. The rushes look beautiful so far. I hope post comes along smoothly. The Red is a beautiful camera to shoot on, it's not funny, but post is going to be a bit of a bitch. Addamski's going to be doing special effects and with him on the team too, I can't imagine how we could go wrong.
I was 19 when I first watched The Graduate. It made me really look forward to what felt like an imminent feeling of nonchalance to come in that limbo post-graduation, pre-work. Dustin Hoffman played Benjamin so well, I couldn't imagine feeling otherwise once I had reached this point in my life. It turned out to be half and half. I'm doing WAY more than that now but it doesn't really feel like it. Realistically I don't think that I could be as blase as he was but it is enticing, the idea of having nothing to lose after you've gained everything you're supposed to at such a young age. You may have graduated into an adult at some point but your age becomes your innocence and you can easily dodge accusations of committing any fallacies by seasoned adults. The world is your oyster and telling it to fuck off is your aphrodisiac. I don't even care to know what happens after.
I loved that it was his intelligence and profundity; his accomplished portfolio, the immensity of his expectations of himself and of life that forcefully pushed him back into the desire to keep floating in that swimming pool, a metaphor for the womb. Before I graduated I was looking forward to having my first cigar and rewatching The Graduate with a bottle of champagne but I never did get around to it, not that it's too late. Maybe on my birthday.
I hate that now that I'm out of uni, I'm seriously contemplating doing my masters. I don't have a pool where I can administer a strap on umbilical cord and I hate sunbathing anyway but the idea of going back to uni as a security blanket makes me feel like a thumbsucker (yes, it's puns all around). Nonetheless I could always stand to learn more and I couldn't see myself regretting having the extra qualifications. I just wish I wasn't so bloody straight-edged sometimes. I wish I had more guts. Actually I suspect I secretly want to be god.
Nonetheless, these plans are still tentative. I might start working for all I know. What happens to me as of next year is going to have a lot to do with the success of my short film which begins production this weekend and I've not a fucking clue where to start doing more so I can be fully prepared. Experience comes only after you need it, or so I'm told. Without question, I'll aim to do my best. In times like these when I feel disillusioned, I just think of Dustin Hoffman as Benjamin Braddock and grin at the possibility of me fucking off everything and stealing a bride after she's exchanged her vows. The temptation is so pleasurable, it compensates for real life. Or maybe I'm not just overly-responsible. Maybe I want something that Benjamin wants too.
Mr. Braddock: What's the matter? The guests are all downstairs, Ben, waiting to see you.
Benjamin: Look, Dad, could you explain to them that I have to be alone for a while?
Mr. Braddock: These are all our good friends, Ben. Most of them have known you since, well, practically since you were born. What is it, Ben?
Benjamin: I'm just...
Mr. Braddock: Worried?
Benjamin: Well...
Mr. Braddock: About what?
Benjamin: I guess about my future.
Mr. Braddock: What about it?
Benjamin: I don't know... I want it to be...
Mr. Braddock: To be what?
Benjamin: [ looks at his father] ... Different.
It's so silly how even gigolos have double standards. A man can't watch, but a woman can. Men don't seem to get it nor the concept that I'm not gonna pay you to eat me out, buddy. If anything, men should be paying women to let them give cunnilingus. What ever happened to good, old-fashioned pizza delivery vouchers in the mail instead of oral by delivery, "available after working hours?"
So what if Paul's doing the right thing? It's amazing, the things that sex can make or break, as long as it's used right. Perish the thought that the world population is still growing too fast when half of America and Australia haven't seen their genitals in years andspend most of their time on the internet practising genitalia reaffirmation. But is this process still safe or should the turkey baster be used more than once a year? Anal is illegal in Singapore and you can get decapitated in Indonesia for wanking. Apparently in India, it's cheaper to fuck a prostitute than buy a condom. Last year, 40% of America's pregnancies were unplanned, not to mention millions of people all over the world are still suffering from and spreading an assortment of sexually-transmitted epidemics*. Talk about your work hazards. No wonder our local gigolo is only offering oral sex.
A human being can estimate about 70% of a person's physique just by listening to a person's voice and pardon me but Paul sounded ugly. God forbid any dumb woman would actually want that near their cooch. Sex undoubtedly makes for an interesting trade, however. In Japan and Guam there are services where men can help women pop their cherries. During the 19th century, vibrators were used as medical treatments for hysteria for women, dissipating some of the anxiety that is induced by hysteria. It makes sense. I forget the name but I once saw on TV, a species of desert mouse that dies if it doesn't procreate because its body will produce too much testosterone and poison the rodent. Death and hysteria by lack of sex. Maybe Paul's doing women a favour after all.
"When a man orders a hooker, he's not paying her to have sex. He's paying her to leave." - Unknown
*edited for political correctness
Maybe it's that when you're not searching for inspiration, it's nowhere to be found. Yet it is said that love comes when you least expect it. Sometimes when you resist it the most. I'm usually right on the money when it comes to knowing what films I'll enjoy before I even watch them. Perhaps it's that my disappointment is premeditated or I've studied my subject too long and hard that it's lost its candour.
Today I needed a break but my cure gave me a headache instead. It brings me to question, why is it that people can still enjoy cinema and I can't? Must it always be that I always need to have a sense of humour to enjoy fucking every new flick that comes out? "Could it be a rut or that I'm jaded?", I ask myself. Am I not getting laid nearly enough and are the drugs not doing what they used to do? I don't know. Or maybe it was that The Boat That Rocked was just the boat that sucked. For god's sake we've seen enough Hugh Grant and Colin Firth doing geeky-Englishmen dances to overlapping jigs. Yeah, I get it. It's cute but it loses its charm after being repeated in 6 America-meets-Britain box office films.
Why do feel good films make me feel nauseous and why oh WHY do they go on for so long? The duration of films initially was measured (and this was measured back in the day when they had intermissions) how long it would take before the general audience's bladder was about to burst. I get awfully frustrated when a film production assumes that the audience is going to love the film so much, they won't notice they've just sat there for 3 hours of their lives with their mouths gaped open, popcorn stuck in their teeth, kidney stones formulating and cataracts progressing, inching gradually to unworthy blindness.
No, I don't want to watch Hollywood's acutely infected and gangrenous baptism through Angels & Demons or any Tom Cruise or Mel Gibson affiliated program. I don't care to watch Hollywood's subliminal showdown between the Christians and the Jews. Also I'm sick of Philip Seymour Hoffman, Denzel Washington and Meryl Streep acting in every film as respectively: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Denzel Washington and Meryl Streep. Will Ferrel's last name is Ferrel, need I say more and can someone please please kill off Nicholas Cage? I thought Con Air or Face/Off, National Treasure at least, would've done that but no. How does he still live? Easy. Nicolas Cage is a soul-sucking zombie that eats bwaaaaiiiinnnnssss.
Do TV viewers know that Ellen Degeneres the Degenerate and Oprah promote movies because their friends all act in them? How did entertainment begin to bore the pus out of me... If I see one more Feel good film that ends with a speech detailing the protagonist's shining epiphany derived through the duration of the film before getting the guy/girl, I'm gonna have a haemorrhage. I really want to say to these people: "STOP making feel good films and just make a good film cos THAT will make me feel good, thankyoukissesbye!"
Maybe what I'm experiencing is not for emos (I don't wear nearly enough eyeliner) but for post-postmodernists. The tubed out, the cross-eyed literatis; the people who know that a voiceover and the closeup of a face means the person in shot is listening, that an orchestrated crescendo and slow motion is meant to bring the audience to tears and that it is impossible for a group of DJs, even with the spirit of rock and roll in their souls, not to get sucked into the depths of the Northern Sea during an undertow. And the ending on a paused-slow-zoom jump thing already happened in 'Rocky' and they had 6 of those.
Yes, I think the diagnoses are that I have no love in my life because I have no energy to conjure up a sense of humour to enjoy a barrage of cliches so that I can enjoy a film and that my world has no wonder cos I saw the rabbit hole down the magician's hat one too many times. It's like having loved before then sussing the life of it that you know its every chemical breakdown, down to every tingle. Don't think I'm happy about it. I also have a good feeling that this is the advent of having studied film and perhaps I should not do my masters and that I should just close my eyes and wait for TBTR's OST because I can at least be grateful for The Grateful Dead.
At the least I am glad if there are still many of you out there that still enjoy cinema while I'm wishing I wrote up a good prenup. Till then I hope the tide turns and good cinema does come back soon or that I get my hands on a worthy classic. Either or. In the least, I do look forward to Crank 2 because I can't argue when Jason Statham takes his shirt off what ever the circumstance. That, I hope I can always rely on.
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starranise said:
Some of my clothes are back in Malaysia and I wanna raid second hand stores but I don't drive here... read more
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starranise said:
I love how you called him 'fuckass'. You're my hero.What's 'kotoh'? read more
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The best part of all this is we still get to see your film. I was really about to feel... read more
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