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Diaryland |
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2004-10-19 - 4:11 p.m. Going into the weekend, I didn't have much of a positive outlook......because essentially, the work wasn't gonna stop. Thursday and Friday were by far, the worst days of work I had in the lab. Half the plant was broken essentially and a shitstorm ensued. Ain't nothing quality about broke shit.... So yeah, I was pretty damn exhausted come 7am, but then I drove straight to the sticks to pick up John L. and we went to the Turkish diner. I had pinapple pancakes.....which at the sight of last time I went there, (drunk as shit from the bowling alley) caused me to walk outside and throw up in the parking lot. Gotta face your fears, right? Anyways, they were good and the side of home-fried potatoes were large in proportion and just as good. Anyways, I got my bday present from John L., Kenny Dope's "Soul Trippin'"........hotness......got the oil changed........drove home and got a shower and packed. Packed for the record party and costume for Erica's movie and drove my ass along with John's to Towson. I think I started feeling tired at the White Marsh exit, but I made it and had John scream at me or something. Still no sleep, got to the set, well, parking lot......and due to the cold ass wind and my forgetting a jacket and my short sleeved costume, I basically got shivered back into waking. Highlights: -Smoked cigs with Tracey while Brian, John L., and I described to Tracey what "WATERY" meant.....which if you don't already know.....is terminology of the girls that were dancing in the shoot........ Used to describe a person, usually white, that has no flavor, no style, utterly tasteless, and boring. i.e. Look on any college campus and look for a white girl in "BOOTYLICIOUS" sweatpants in some frat. -laying on the pavement and getting rained on while people danced over me. -shivering and then getting bombarded with coats. -trying to pronounce Vassbinder and Bunell correctly. -Making out with a Super8 camera. The shoot only lasted till about 3:30pm which meant I got to sleep for a couple of hours.....2 to be exact in Erica's bed........god knows what ungodly things Nikc and her has done in that bed, but I didn't care, I was tired as fuck and I didn't feel no wet spot. I sleep for 2 hours and apparently, there's hail and sleet and a 90 car accident on I-95.......Erica feeds me some food, I drink 3 beers and I'm like "IT'S TIME TO GO TO CHEVERLY TO FUCKING DJ!!!!!!!" I felt better......but all the while, I knew I was gonna be hurting. John is sleeping in the truck.......and I'm just like.......I which I was sleeping....... The party was small, social......although I wasn't very social. I just spun crazy records, gangsta rap.......John L. did a good job after me and didn't look nervous at all and had a good selection, Grace Jones' "Pull up to my Bumper" is a fucking jam and a half. I think after John L. spun it got these dudes from "Indigenious Womb" excited and wanting to spin.......I think they felt the same way I did, I didn't know anybody and I wanted to eat and keep busy by djing. I talked to Bat a bit, and his mother accused him of being gay for wearing a fake fur coat. Then of course, we talked like the way we talk.......silly shit......I was tired. Everett came back from the liquor store with a forty of PITBULL.....looking at it, I couldn't even gather the strength of even trying to touch that $1.50 brew, with my new affinity to pinky beer and all and me being tired as shit.........it wasn't happening. I did eat about a loaf of bread before leaving and started my journey back home around 3:30am and apparently some girl rode home with Bat in his beat up Taurus....she had to be like 28 or something (everybody was at least 5 years older then me, except for Bat and John).......their were 3 "Mike"s at the party I think and one of them, other then me was a big ass scary drunk dude. Mutha fucka was weird, but he had this big old school cellphone, some sorta Nokia with a keyboard, shit looked like a big foldout walkie talkie......muthafucka was just a weird dude.......and him drunk was even worse. I got tired around White Marsh on the way back, and got some gummi bears n shit to gather my bearings and dropped off John L. and got home around 5:30AM. I woke up quite early on Sunday, around before noon.......and find out I'm late for this Sunday script reading on our next film project....I figured I would get picked up by Nick or something, but he stayed up in Towson another night.......He's living like me now, seen his house maybe a total of 3 days out of a week.....and that's just for sleeping. I get there a half hour late, unshowered and still tired. Meet the cast, as always at the Graham's, there's some sort of chips and dip and spread around the table and of course I eat heartily and drink beer. The script reading was fun, everyone laughed, people seem pretty positive.....it'll be a winner, most definitely. They all saw the footage of me scared shitless on a horse and eating a donut off of Erica's boob AKA "WMDs" in Wilford Brimley makeup........good times. The reading dispersed, the Tepid Fish girls "That's-Alotta-Coke" Tim, Nick chilled for a minute after along with Steve, but both left soon after...Steve, always busy with something.....auditions....and Nick, needed to go home to endure the build-up of family bitching at his house or whatever...... But Brother John (who wrote the script) and I stayed, had nothing better to do I guess, I just crashed on the couch like I always do......and we smoked on the backporch...had intellectual conversations...I was actually asked questions (which I find rare-and sad....and usually when people ask me questions, I usually get surprised and caught off guard and feel like I never get to answer the way I want to)........I drank some malt liquor.......Ryan, Tracy, and I spoke and debated about spectators and Ryan laid down some more real shit on me. Ryan told me of his new and ingenious money schemes. We all talked about our hatred of DC, life, all sorts of real shit. At first, I thought Ryan as some demented dude when I first met him, but he's totally approachable...he looks like some guy that would work at a pet store...and he can be such a nerd at times....like supra-nerd....but I think it was his dry humor that throws you the curve ball, but when I talk to him more and more, I respect him more and more......even his "get the girl naked and document it" tactics......which has always disturbed me in a way, but at the same time, you got to give credit where credit is due. He thinks grand and does likewise and is not at least bit afraid of it......one of the most "can-do" cooperative people I've ever met. After the discussion, brother John interjects somewhere he's got a great idea for a sketch about 2 french balloonists fighting gay tension at 3000ft in a French New Wave kinda style. And Ryan, being the slavedriver/motivator, gets my brother to type that shit up right then and there and says some shit I think my brother took to heart....... My brother writes and always has trouble ending shit and when he writes he's editing and analyzing line after line and Ryan just says to him, "Write it all.......30 pages and don't stop THEN go back and cut it back to 10 or whatever, don't stop typing after every other line or you'll never get done." The man is the truth I tell you and he goes back to watching TV in true Ryan-slavedrivin' muse fashion. ....And Tracey and I get high. I haven't got high in a long time....a long ass time in fact. That was damn fun. She showed me all her art stuff and her computer and writing tablet and some crazy ass art program. Now, Tracey is an artist by trade and as we do bong hits, I see this whole other side of her as she starts talking about her art and this crazy ass art program she got. She's speaking with this passion, this excitement......radiating an energy so to speak that only one could emit only if they truly loved what they were doing and talking about. It made me feel good about the damn world......AND I WAS HIGH........and to tell you the truth, I haven't heard anyone speak with that kinda raw passion in a long time. We then ate bagel bites and watched Mario's take on Melvin's book "BADASSSSSSSS!" .......twas good, lots of titties, can't go wrong with that, all the while, every fifteen minutes Ryan is yelling over to the computer room, "I Don't hear you typing John!" John did the get the sketch done and he was happy.....for once......I remember that day it looked as if Nick and Him were going to fight (Nick coined my brother's backhand as a "Strike of a genius"), and John on separate occasions talked about some shit that went over my head and seemed as if he was trying to end conversation other then spark it. John is going through some times though.......but the sketch was funny, damn funny, and Ryan and I talked about starting a big email campaign that called for PENIS REDUCTIONS rather then PENIS ENLARGEMENTS........ "Your penis is too big for human consumption, please for the love of god, get a penis reduction, children are crying, mothers are sobbing, daughters are running away in fear, woman are cementing they're orfices for protection.....please for the love of god, take some inches off that beast!" The ride home, I was listening to Har-Mar Superstar and everything seems so great, one of the best lazy Sundays I've ever had......I damn near cried on the way back, seriously, I was that taken. Monday, was basically my rest day........I did go and dj up at WMUC in College Park from 2am-4am with Steve. twas fun.....I spun old school stuff laced in with some old Mr. T storybook records. can't get no better then that.......... Other then that, I need a haircut, the room is still dirty, I still feel lazy and procrastinating......I need to do some shit..........still..........and sleep, and laundry, and go to the bank.....important shit. Anyways, work awaits..........until next time........
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