Jesus and ME!

I sat down with the Jesus. He was a pretty cool dude, except he had this awful habit of picking his toes with his teeth. When I questioned him about it, he simply said, "I turned water into wine, bitch! Now shadda yo mouth!"

Here is the interview:

Matt: Do you believe in yourself?
Jesus: That's certainly a question!
M: How about sex?
J: With you? No thanks!
M: Drugs?
J: Wednesdays and Fridays.
M: Rock N' Roll?
J: Yes please.
M: Are you religious?
J: The most religious thing I ever did involved a virgin named Mary.
M: That's blasphemy!
J: It was a blast-for-me too.
M: What about the government?
J: I have never spoken to George Bush about foreign affairs. I have, however, spoken to Jenna Bush about foreign affairs: but no matter what I say, she'll never take her top off.
M: How do you feel about Christianity?
J: I would never join a club that would have me as a member.
M: Judaism?
J: I could never get used to the beanies.
M: Muslims?
J: I don't want to say anything, they might open a can of Fatwa on me.
M: Hindu?
J: Hin-don't.
M: Thanks for your time.
J: Yeah, I'm alive forever, so it's more like you are wasting your time.
M: Right.
J: Seriously though...how much time did you spend on Youporn this week?
M: Thanks for the interview, J.
J: And the things you look up? "Palestinian Girls Go Jihad On Jewish Cocks?"
M: This conversation is over.
J: You should be ashamed of yourself!

Airplane Rant

In the air right now...

What is that old adage about flying? It's safer than driving? I personally don't care how statistically safe it is; as soon as my body tilts in a 45 degree angle and I realize there is nothing but forward momentum preventing me from becoming a messy stain on the ground, my stomach drops about 30,000 feet and I begin to cry like a little girl.

I have, in the past, grabbed a hold of my next-seat-neighbor's hand and yelped a magnificent yelp. With the exception of one instance when my vivaciously beautiful neighbor actually smiled and asked me to keep holding on, the hand grabbing exercise has been a fruitless and embarrassing endeavor.

OK, so the guy ahead of me decided that he was going to lean back and now my computer is literally inside my anus. While this might be a fun experience for a small percentage of people, I would actually call it "slightly uncomfortable".

I hate flying so much that I need to have several shots of various liquors before boarding the plane. The fact that I need several shots of various liquors before doing anything probably has no bearing whatsoever, but there is that slight possibility that I am a hardcore alcoholic, or an "alco-awesome" as I like to call it.

To start the last paragraph's thought again...I hate flying, but love traveling. If I could only construct some sort of Star Trek-esque beam to transport me from place to place! Oh the fun I'd have: running with the bulls in Spain, standing at the top of Mt Everest, hanging with a bunch of Tech Nerds in the Bay area. It would be a dream come true: a very, very sad dream. The kind of dream that you try not to remember when you wake up, but the disturbingly crystal-clear images have engrained themselves into your brain, like a sex dream about the ugly girl in your high school science class. Not that I've ever experienced that. Seriously though, who would have known that Rachel McLaughlin was so sexy, while all-the-time covered in warts?

So I literally mean RANT, when I say rant. The flight between Los Angeles and Las Vegas is about 50 minutes, and computer usage is limited to a paltry 20 minutes, which means I cannot put more than a passing thought into this feces-covered debacle of a blog post. Oh well, at least it's colorful!

Ridiculous One Night Stand

This is an absolutely true story.

I knew this girl...let's call her Jen. Jen was a beautiful, awkward and slightly neurotic girl who used to frequent this bar on the Lower East Side every Thursday.

She and some friends would hit up happy hour, and every week would run into the same guy; let's call him Mike. Mike was 20-something, handsome, suave, debonair, and an all-in-all hunk (surprisingly, not me). For years she was looking for a fantastic fantasy guy and this was pretty much him. Her search for Mr. Right had come to an end.

Each week she saw him, and each week she attempted to talk to him, but her nerves got the best of her. Finally, after about two months of hemming and hawing, she got up enough [liquid] courage to talk to Mark.

They spoke for hours; from the same town, enjoyed the same books, had the same sense of humor. Needless to say, she went back home with him.

His house was a the Manhattan version of a palatial mansion; a huge loft with brand new furniture, picturesque views and high ceilings. They made true, passionate love and it was special. Jen's dreams were finally coming true.

The next morning Mark woke Jen up with breakfast in bed. He kissed her on the forehead and said that she could take as long as she wanted to leave, but he had to go to work. She wrapped herself in his huge comforter and smiled a huge smile: PERFECTION!

Then, her stomach started grumbling; the international sign that she needed to go to the bathroom. I will spare you the specifics, but let's just say she went number two. Reaching over to flush the toilet, she noticed that...it wouldn't flush.

Frantically, she tried again and again. Over and over, she slammed on the lever...yet it did nothing.

What did she do? Ran into the kitchen and grabbed a plastic sandwich bag, ran back into the bathroom, reached into the toilet and removed the offending item.

Running back to the kitchen, she washed her hands. In a hurry to leave, she grabbed her stuff and left as quickly as possible.

As soon as the door to the apartment building closed behind her, she realized something:

She left the bag of poop on the kitchen counter.

She frenziedly ran to the door and began to grab the handle, shaking it back and forth, but there was no hope. She was late for work and there was nothing to do, so she left.

Meanwhile, he must have come home to a huge surprise. Obviously, he had a good time too, but coming home and finding a huge bag of poop on his kitchen counter must have given him a pause for thought.

She called him a few times and he never returned her phone call. Her fantasy man was fantastic, but a big ole bag o' poop got in the way of true love. Isn't that how it always is?

HAVING A BABY

I pondered recently about the implications of being in your mid/late 20s and the effect it has on your psyche. In my mind, you're stuck in a purgatory-like state of maturity. Am I responsible? Do I have a home life/career? At one point do I stop picking my nose in polite company?

These are indeed central questions in one's life. That and why can't scientists come up with an energy drink that doesn't taste like cough syrup?

I was having an IM chat recently with a friend of 12 years. That's nearly half my life, and our friendship has extended back to a time I kindly refer to as my "formative years". I consider him one of my closest, and perhaps only blond, friend.

He's a bit of a goofus. One bright Sunday morning we were searching for brunch and, noticing a storefront, he exclaimed "how about that cay-f?"

"What's a cay-f?"
"That cay-f over there."
He pointed to a sign, it read "cafe".

At another point in his life (he was perhaps 15), he got so remarkably high, that when I walked into his room, he was trying to swallow one of those little bottles of breath freshener.

"I'm so dirty! I need to clean myself! BREATH SMELL GOOD!!!"

He let the bottle go and I literally stuck my hands in the back of his throat and removed the offending object. Every yearbook signature from then on included the phrase "thanks for saving my life".

These are not two isolated incidents. If the guy was a musician, he would be called "Doofus Wainwright"

Anyway, back to my conversation. I barely see him anymore, but I have met his girlfriend and seen his apartment. I think he makes a modest income and it seems like he genuinely loves his lady. So, when he immed me "I've got something important to tell you", I assumed that he was telling me he was going to get married.

I was wrong:

"Matt, I've got something to tell you."
"..."
"We're having a baby"
"WOW"

He's having a baby. WOW! He's not getting married...which, I suppose at any other time in our history might be weird, but he's having a baby.

Of course, being a complete and utter narcissist, I brought it back to myself. He is the first of my close friends to actually have a baby (though many have gone down the marriage path) and I pondered about how that reflected upon me.

I thought about being 27. I thought about wanting to be alive to see my kid have kids. I thought about not wanting to have kids. I thought about Jessica Rabbit naked. I thought about how I could be a superhero, but I just don't look good in tights.

I'm certainly years away from being in a place in my life where I would be comfortable having an off-spring. I can't even imagine a little near-sighted Matt wondering around, being all neurotic with his train set and questioning the existence of a higher-power while eating his spaghetti ohs. Also, I would feel sorry for my kid if he ended up being as awful as I described him. There goes 18 years of Saturday nights.

But, I guess the biggest question is; when would I be ready? Certainly not fucking now, matey. Is it a maturity thing? Is it a career thing? Is it a commitment thing? Is it the fact that I REALLY ENJOY being completely irresponsible?

Probably all of the above. I mean, who wants a kid around when you can sit on your couch naked, drinking piss-poor vino, gently stroking a butter knife across your jugular while googling ex girlfriends?

Hmmm...that makes me sound creepy. Oh well!

i look forward to the time when i don't have to look forward to a time

I have been told I look like Tom Cruise too many times to count (I cannot, for the life of me, tell you why), but I have LITERALLY been mistaken for Tom Cruise twice.

First time:

2004, standing in an elevator at the School of Visual Arts in New York City. Visiting the guy who was editing my film, I hopped in a tiny, graffiti-filled, florescent lit elevator.

The only other occupant, a young African-American boy, is staring at me. I can feel him glaring out of the corner of his eye. I'm thinking this must be some sort of gay ritual, and I will have to politely tell him that, while flattered, I'm not into the anal sex with men. I turn around...

"OH! Oh my God! It is you!"
"What?"
"Aren't you Tom Cruise?"
"I'm 23"
"You're not? Oh man, did any ever tell you you look like..."
"Yes"

Next time, I'm in a Blockbuster in LA in 2007. The store clerk is staring at me. College student, I understand, but someone who works at a Blockbuster? Isn't that like a Doctor mistaking a kidney for a pair of testicles? This man should be a movie buff-type person. Oh well.

He stares and stares. Does he think I'm stealing something? No.

"Oh MAN! I thought you were Tom Cruise"
"I'm 26"
"Did anyone ever tell you you look like..."
"Yes"

Now, I am 20 years younger then Tom Cruise and something tells me that Mr. Cruise would not be a patron at a Blockbuster...but there you go.

One time at a bar, I walked past a drunk douchebag, and he tried to start shit with me. Stomping his foot in front of me, he said; "Excuse me...Mr. Tom Cruise!" the same way one would say "Hey there, you fucking huge piece of shit". Since when does getting compared with a world-famous movie star become an insult?

I guess that means I should appreciate the fact that people think I look like Tom Cruise; it's way better than being called Clark Kent (which I have about 1000 times) or Jason Schwartzman (that mistaken identity got me a free coffee once) Personally though, I'd rather look like Matty M.

8 Random Things That Happened To Me This Week

1) I found out that a friend has a friend that calls while he's having sex with his girlfriend, so my friend can listen in. AND my friend enjoys it. AND I need to wash my hands.
2) Connected to that, I used the phrase "tears are the best lubrication to brutal anal sex" in polite conversation.
3) I had my finger up my nose for well over 15 continuous minutes while lost in Westwood. I wasn't picking; so I'm not really sure what it was doing there. Perhaps I hoped it would morph into a compass, pointing the booger-filled direction home.
4) While showering, I had a fantasy of being the keyboard player of this band. My next fantasy was years and years of psychotherapy.
5) I lent my friend a Dr. Who DVD. When he told me how much he liked it, I became overcome with joyous excitement. My mind drifted into an idle reverie where every Saturday night was "Dr Who Night" and I sat around discussing the pros and cons of the new series with a group of erudite intellectuals. Then, I thought about it some more and decided that I should do some research on "getting a life".
6) Had dinner with some old college friends and postulated that the producers of "Man Of The House" convinced Tommy Lee Jones he was starring in a taut thriller about a desolate Texas Town, then just shot another movie during his lunch breaks.
7) I found out that the plural of Chad is Chad (not chads). It reminds me of the time that I found out momentarily means both "for a moment" and "in a moment". *Don't want to think about anything that reminds me of the 2000 election.*
8) Noel from Zappos just twittered me and said this blog made her day. Noel is my new favorite Zappos employee.

Text Message Hilarity

My friend (5'2, 110lbs, baby faced) gets the following text message yesterday:

ur sik lying thief son did not deliver our dope and stole r money r turn goodluck if he dosnt pay we will kill him ur next

The text message finished with a gang name and random signs. My friend googles the gang name and signs; finds out it's the top gang in LA.

She writes back to them, because she definitely wants to make sure that the person for whom that message was intended gets it:

I think you have the wrong number

The funny part is their response:

Oh yes. Wrong number. Our apologies.

They went straight from sticking a gat up her ass to a 19th century British butler. Only in LA...

Sometimes I Ramble (And Interview God)

I was at a party on Saturday for a 21 year old (but I didn't know that until I got there!). Invited by a 27 year old, I stood in the corner with my 32 year old friend talking to 27, 27, 23, 19 year olds. I definitely felt like (one of) the old dudes in the room. I certainly wasn't the oldest guy there, but the I got the old "I'm one of 4 people in this room who could grow a beard if I cared to" vibe.

Am I old? Am I old-ish? Old-like? I fucking don't know. When I was 25 I went to my film school to pitch some ideas to an agent; when I was sitting in a communal area waiting to be let in, I found myself in a conversation with a bunch of 21 year olds. Mumbling "old" they began to speak to me:

"How old are you?" she muttered. Black hipster with blue eyeshadow. Didn't quite make sense to me.
"25" I said.
"HOLY SHIT THAT'S OLD!" she exclaimed!
"You'll be there soon" I said.

Now that I'm 27, 25 doesn't seem that old, but 27 does. Actually when I was 25, 25 seemed old. So, I guess the question is, am I always going to feel old from here on out? I fucking remember the 80s! I'm old enough to have appreciated Vanilla Ice in a non-Ironic way. WTF!

What is old? I don't know. Isn't it comparative? There's really only one person who can answer that question: God.

So, I sat down with him and we had a nice long talk. I attempted to transcribe it, but God speaks too freaking fast that it was difficult to write down EVERYTHING he said. I think I got most of it:

Me: God! There you are.
God: First off, don't call me God. God was my father's name. Just called me " ".
Me: Ok, " ", here's my question: is 27 old?
He pauses. Pauses in such a way that he WANTS me to think that he is THINKING. He needs me to believe that there's something going on in that magnificent head of his. Shrugging for effect, he says:
God: Matt, Matt, Matt...27 is fucking old.
Me: Really?
God: Yeah.
Me: But you're like 1 billion years old.
God: But I'm God...you're just a dude. What, do you live like 80 years? 81 if you're lucky. Basically you're born old. There's just not enough time for everything...
Me: True.
God: Speaking of that, how much time did you spend googling "download free porn" today?
Me: Like maybe 5 hours.
God: Less porn googling, more living your life.
Me: How about "facebooking"? Is that an OK waste of time?
God: Wait, you're on Facebook? You didn't add me.
Me: Uhm, I don't think you're in my email contacts.
God: You're going down, Jewface.

It kinda goes on from there. God ended up saying "I can't believe you're writing this at 2:28 am when you have other perfectly interesting things to do", but there you go. After the interview God turned into a halibut and began to hit me with himself, proclaiming "I am not a fish"...it was a little strange and it seemed as if he might be enjoying slapping the crap out of me.

Lesson learned? Life is short. I remember when I was in 8th grade, my science teacher spoke of our time on earth:

"You think that we're here for a long time? Our life is as minuscule as an ant's fart in the Amazon". Yes, that insightful tidbit of knowledge has stuck with me for...15 years.

His name was Constantine Constance. There's a fucking name.

I guess everything is relative; including age.

How To Keep Your Editor Job/Your Editing Gig

I've been getting a lot of hits on this last piece, which was about how to GET hired. This is a post about how to act in order to KEEP the job.

I've hired a lot of editors one time and one time only; Hopefully this will help you hold on to your freelance gig and make our lives easier. You'd be surprised about how many editors make simple mistakes that prevent them from being hired a second time.

1) Tell the Truth: OK, you don't know how to export H.264 correctly. That's fine. You don't know photoshop well? Just tell me; definitely during the interview process. If you're concerned about not getting hired, say "I've got a friend who can help me" or "I'm great with everything else, but maybe you can put me in touch with someone who can give me a few pointers on Motion, because I don't know it".

I've had editors say "Yeah, I can export for web fine", and I end up with a file on a DVD that's 2 gigs. If you tell me the truth, I can put you in touch with someone who can answer your questions. However, if you tell me that you know something, and you obviously don't...then you won't get hired again.

2) READ THE SCRIPT!!!: My sweet lord. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten cuts with lines, shots or even scenes missing. Read the script as you're putting the assembly together, read it as you trim each shot, read it outloud if you have to, but don't MISS things.

3) Be Specific With What You Want From the Producers: If you need a detailed log of all the shots, then tell me. If you want me to get all the music, graphics, etc for you beforehand, let me know. If you tell me after I give you the footage, it's annoying, because as a producer, I want to hand you the tapes and let you go. Once we've shot, I don't want to hear from you again until you have a cut for me.

In addition to that, be flexible. Don't email me and say "I didn't get the graphic for Britney Spears, so I can't put that together", just go grab a Britney Spears graphic from the web. That sort of stuff takes a few minutes and will save hours of aggravation.

4) Re-Watch Your Cuts: I always get cuts with huge gaffes, missing graphics (the dreaded "graphics offline" box), inaudible lines, repeat shots, etc. It's not that hard to watch what you've cut one time before you show it to me. It's only a few minutes and saves you from looking retarded.

5) Ask Questions: OK, you read the script and you have the footage, but you don't understand something. Call me up and ask me a question...don't guess. "What's this B-roll for?" requires a 10 second answer, but giving me a cut without the B-roll will give me a headache for an hour.

6) Make Your Deadlines: If you tell me it will be done on Wednesday...have it done on Wednesday. You need to tell me when you get the footage that it's going to take longer: Nothing says unprofessional like "I thought I could get this done, but I can't for another few days". I find that a lot of people overestimate to impress producers. If you need an extra day, just say so.

7) I Know, You're a Picture Editor, but Seriously, Just Sweeten the Sound a Little...: Doing some audio crossfades and equalizing in FCP or Avid takes a minimal amount of time and will make your cuts seem exponentially better. Don't hand me a cut with a bunch or drop outs or inaudible dialogue. You're just going to get a note saying "fix that" anyway.

8) Have FUN With The Cuts: Try something fun and unique. Stick in a funny graphic, add a cool sound effect, use an interesting video filter, put in a few interesting cutaways; have fun with it. Before you do it, ask "can I have fun with this?", most producers will say "yes, within reason", but...DO IT!

OK, I hope this helps! Good luck and keep those jobs...

Attempting to Write: A Brutal Confessional

I have now officially mastered the art of bating...er..."writing", and by writing, I mean actually not getting anything accomplished. Literally nothing. I'm supposed to shoot some content tomorrow and I have not begun to even think about writing it. I have, however;

1) Checked Twitter 1.5 million times
2) Spent at least an hour wondering if it's not too late to attempt a career as a rock star
3) Listened to the same song on repeat 40 times
4) Cried
5) Cried some more
6) Drank three beers

Well, if there's one thing I have learned it's that I'm a micro-blogging, pie-in-the-sky, rock n roll depressive alcoholic.

I guess that means I'm fit for a career in the entertainment industry after all.

Matthew: you ever get that "even if i was doing what i wanted to be doing, i still wouldn't want to be doing it" feeling?
alcn: yes
alcn: usually when i'm doing something
Matthew: ha
Matthew: like, i think if someone gave me 5 million dollars and said "go make a movie" i'd be like, GREAT! but a little dead inside
alcn: lol
alcn: i totally understand
Matthew: hah
Matthew: you know what i was feeling when i won that award at Tribeca?
Matthew : going up on stage, meeting deniro, etc
Matthew : "god, i hope this isn't the best moment of my life"
alcn: lol
alcn: oh matt
alcn: that really is hysterical


On a side note:

Did anyone realize that Marilyn Monroe was Jewish? Why isn't that little tidbit of information handed out at Sabbath?

I can't take the way he sings, but I love to hear him talk...

This literally happened to me at a pitch 2 years ago.

INT. OFFICE - DAY
A small, messy office that belongs to:

DAVID (25), who thinks it's the biggest office anyone has ever had. Tired eyes and highly distracted demeanor are his two biggest attributes...sits at his desk, staring at:

MATT (25), quiet, unassuming, yet powerfully intense.

This moment is clearly a MEXICAN STANDOFF. They stare at each other in silence.

MATT
I just think it's been done before, I mean, that
other show you produced was exactly the same.

He's not listening or looking directly at Matt.

DAVID
Mmmhmm...

MATT
I mean, we could make it work, I guess, I'm just
concerned that...

DAVID
I was thinking of making it more inviting. What do you
think I should do?

MATT
What?

DAVID
My office.

MATT
I don't know. Maybe move your desk around so you can face
people while...

David starts to TEXT MESSAGE on his cell phone.

MATT (CONT'D)
...you talk to them. Anyways...

DAVID
Hold on.

He LAUGHS.

MATT
I was just saying, I'm not sure if we should go in that direction,
I think if we avoid cliches and really try to make something
dynamic, it will set the show apart from every other similar one out there.

DAVID
Yes, I see what you're saying.

No he doesn't.

DAVID (CONT'D)
I have a question for you.

MATT
Yes?

DAVID
I had this guy make me a flash file and I want to know
what the quickest way to import...

He interrupts himself.

DAVID (CONT'D)
Do you think if someone's last name is Brown, he's black?

MATT
Huh?

He looks at David.

MATT (CONT'D)
No, I mean, I have a friend with the last name Brown
and he's not black.

David looks DOWN and stops talking.

For...
A...
Long...
Time...

DAVID
What?

MATT
I said, I have a friend with the last name Brown
and he's not black.

DAVID
Good.

Matt really has no idea what's going on.

DAVID (CONT'D)
So you think beanbags is the way to go?

MATT
It could be nice.

DAVID
How do I record sound onto flash?

MATT
I really don't know, I've never worked in flash.

David looks UPSET.

DAVID
You've never worked in flash? You're an idiot, Matt.

MATT
What?

DAVID
I am joking.

MATT
OK, because I was wondering.

He STARTS TEXTING AGAIN.

MATT (CONT'D)
I think you could probably record the sounds on a camera and
import them on to your computer through fire-wire.

DAVID
I don't want to go that far.

MATT
Well, I guess you could record on garage band and use the
computer's internal microphone.

DAVID
I want to do more then that.

MATT
Well, I don't know then.

DAVID
What was the first one again?

MATT
Recording the sounds on a camera and...

DAVID
You direct music videos right?

MATT
Yes.

DAVID
Do you want to direct a music video for my band?

MATT
You have a band?

He SMILES and shakes his head, as if saying 'DUH'.

DAVID
No.

MATT
But you want me to direct a music video for your band.

DAVID
You don't understand. I wrote some lyrics.

He pulls a CRUMPLED, MESSY piece of paper off his wall.

UNREADABLE SCRIBBLE is strewn across the page.

DAVID (CONT'D)
How long do you think it would take to make a
music video for that?

MATT
Is this a song?

DAVID
It's about a fat guy. He likes to eat. Do you think we can
shoot it this weekend?

MATT
You mean tomorrow?

DAVID
Yes.

MATT
Well, I mean, you could probably hire a musician to
write music to the lyrics.

DAVID
Oh, I don't want to use those lyrics. How fast could
we get this done?

MATT
I mean, a musician could write a song in like a
few hours, probably.

DAVID
Do you think we could make the music video
without a song?

MATT
I mean, I think you need a song to make a music video.
But, I guess if you just want to shoot a fat guy eating,
it could be done.

DAVID
No, didn't you hear what I said? I want to change the lyrics.

MATT
OK, well, I mean, if you wanted to shoot something
tomorrow, I guess...

DAVID
This is very important to me, I used to be fat.

MATT
Me too.

David SMILES.

DAVID
No you weren't.

MATT
Yes I was.

He's ANGRY LOOKING now.

DAVID
No, you weren't.

MATT
So listen, about the show, I really think that it could connect
to audiences if we had viewer feedback, you know, so people
could respond to it, feel like a part of the show.

DAVID
I'm not a fan.

MATT
Are you sure? I think it's a pretty good idea.

DAVID
Is there anyway we could do that, but not do that?
Do you know what I mean?

MATT
Maybe you could explain?

DAVID
I like the viewer feedback part.

MATT
OK...

DAVID
I just, you know, we don't have to get it right the first time.

MATT
Sure, OK.

DAVID
I think you're on to something.

MATT
So should I continue writing it with the viewer feedback in mind?

DAVID
We're talking creative now, I think the important thing is to
talk practical. We can worry about the creative stuff later.

MATT
But you told me last time you wanted the script tomorrow.
This is why we're meeting.

David stares ahead BLANKLY.

He GETS a TEXT and shows it to Matt.

DAVID
See this?

The TEXT SAYS 'LOVE TO HELP, BUT WE'RE BEING ACQUIRED BY VIACOM'.

MATT
OK.

DAVID
They're being acquired by Viacom. My boss is trying to work with them.

MATT
Sounds good.

DAVID
OK, so I have to go. I think that ironed everything out. Looking
forward to working with you.

MATT
OK.

DAVID
I really want to do this video.

MATT
Well, I mean, we could shoot it this weekend.
I know some musicians if you want me to contact them...

DAVID
No musicians. No music. Just a music video.

MATT
Ok.

DAVID
I need to go.

He walks out of his own office, leaving Matt ALONE and CONFUSED.


Despite this grim portent, I ended up working with this guy for over a year. Oh, it was a grim portent, indeed, but it sure was creative fodder. Or was it creative fertilizer? Either way, I smelled a lot of poop.

Editors Reels

NOTE: This piece has gotten a lot of hits, so I did a follow up. Click here to see "How To Keep Your Job Once You've Gotten It"...

10 tips for when you're putting together an editing reel and applying for editing jobs.

PREFACE: I've been looking at editors reels for...geez, like 5 years now. I've probably hired about 20 editors in my time, and seen like 300 reels. I immediately know within five seconds if I want to contact the editor, or throw the tape in the bin.

1) Choose your music wisely: I know what an iLife loop sounds like, please don't put it on your reel. I have literally gotten reels with MIDI files for music. Really? Seriously? You're going to go the cheap route? It's not like the copyright police are going to track you down; put a freakin' good song on there. You shouldn't even have that much music anyway...it's a reel to show you can CUT, not a reel to see that what you edit was shot well (see below)
2) Put a scene on there: Give me a few cut together shots. Sure, all those fancy, fast-paced shots of guns being drawn, cars flying by, clouds moving in fast motion, etc, are nice...but this is not a DP reel...show me HOW you create a story. I need to see something that proves you can put together a film/show/documentary. I'm not going to hire you based on your camera guy's talents.
3) If your graphics aren't professional quality...don't spend a lot of time on them: I have seen a lot of reels where there are some "that graphic would look OK in 2000" sort of graphics that are put at the front, or have a lot of time dedicated to them. It's alright if you're not the best graphic person in the world, sure, stick a few shots in there, but don't belabor it; get in and get out. Be honest with yourself; if it wouldn't pass muster on TV or music videos, it's probably not that good.
4) Have 1 Reel for the project you're applying for: OK, you've seen an ad for a Reality Show editor. SEND ME A LINK TO YOUR DOCUMENTARY/REALITY stuff. Don't send me a link to your website with 10 different reels on it. I'm not going to spend the time wading through your videos to find it, I'm going to get bored and move on, because I have 100 emails in my inbox from editors.
5) Check your Grammar: This may sound stupid, but seriously, I get emails with "your" instead of "you're" or no capitalization, or sentences like this: " I graduated from XXX and have much experience editing". "Much experience editing"? Read it OUTLOUD before you send it.
6) You're an editor, not a writer/director: OK, I know, you went to film school, you directed that digital short that played some film festivals, whatever...I'm not (neither is anyone else I know) hiring you if your resume says "writer/director/editor". Simple as that. I'm not looking for someone who wants to direct; that's our job. I want an editor. Similarly, don't tell me that you graduated from "Film School for Writing/Directing" or whatever.
7) It's OK if you are a little older, but don't stick the stuff from 1995 on your reel: I don't mind if you're 42, but I want to see that you can edit like it's 2008, not 1998. I'd rather not see that E! special you edited on "Liar, Liar".
8) Read the Job Posting and Say something about it in your Email: If my job posting says "we're doing a web series about robots", respond saying "It would be my dream to do this, I LOVE Robots!"...even if you don't...it makes me feel like you care about the project. It comes down to the "talents", but I will spend more time looking at your reel if you seem like you fit in with the project.
9) KEEP IT SHORT: If you're an editor...you should be able to EDIT. That means *focus*...I'm not interested in 10 second title cards with your name and "editor" underneath. Get in, show me what you can do, and get out. Give me your number and email at the end and that's IT! Watch your reel and if you have 45 seconds of skateboarders flipping around in circles, cut it down. Sure it looks cool, but again, 15 seconds of it tells me if you can edit or not. We all have short attention spans.
10) Don't use YouTube or MySpace: This might change in the next year or so...but the resolution on youtube and myspace videos are really poor. Try Blip.TV, or better yet, just upload a damn H.264 on a website and send me a link. You're an editor, right? You should know how to export a nice video.

Hope this helps! Good luck on getting the gig :)

it's like he drew my life

from here:

"Oh dear," says God, "I hadn't thought of that" and promply vanishes in a puff of logic.

There's something about designing robots that takes me right back to the mid-1980's, watching either this:

or this:

Yes, it is strange that I'm in the process of designing a robot for one of my jobs (got too many to count these days), but it's in my contract. Literally, as soon as I get to an office, I say "hey, you know what would be WONDERFUL? If you had a show about a robot!"

Invariably, the potential employer says "leave now and never return". If they don't, then I know it's a place I should consider employment. Currently, I'm putting together a big ole robot for a major online retailer...maybe it's too many years of Douglas Adams, or perhaps too many years of Dr. Who (in episodes written by Douglas Adams), but, facing the half-built robot, I consistently have the same idle reverie...

Matt: Hey, Robot, what's up?
Robot: I AM PROGRAMMED TO BE SURROUNDED BY AWESOME. MY LAMENESS DETECTOR INDICATES I SHOULD LEAVE YOU RIGHT NOW.
I fiddle with wires.
Robot: WOW, I'M GLAD TO BE NEAR YOU, YOU JEWISH SEX GOD. WHAT'S UP FIRST? NIGHT ON THE TOWN TO FIND SOME FOXY TAIL, OR SHOULD I JUST SIT HERE AND ABSORB YOUR WISDOM?
Matt: Let's dance!
Robot: ENGAGE FUNKY CHIPS. *EVERYBODY WANG-CHUNG TONIGHT*
Matt: Engage Rock Lobster...
Robot: HERE COMES A BIKINI WHALE!
Matt: Hey Robot, let's be BFFs! I shall now program you to be exactly like me.
Robot: NO PLEASE, I VALUE MY SANITY. THE NEUROTICISM ALONE WILL MAKE ME IMPOTENT TO THE SEXY FEMBOTS.

And so on. I believe the fantasy usually leaves me in a fight with the robot where I tell it to divide zero and its' brain explodes.

Why do Super-Toys Last All Summer Long?

If there's one thing I can learn from a robot it's how to destroy all that oppose me. If there are two things I can learn from a robot it's:

1) How to destroy all those that oppose me (duh)
2) How to be an emotionless drone.

Oh well. As Marvin said, "Life: loathe it or ignore it, you can't like it."

My top ten thoughts during the day

1) I wonder what that tastes like?
2) I wish I didn't taste that.
3) I wonder what the weirdest porn I can find is?
4) That's going to keep me awake.
5) Does moral absolutism exist, or are we dealing with subjective relativism?
6) Huh?
7) I wonder what she looks like naked.
8) She's kinda overweight in my imagination.
9) Writing a list of things on my mind is a good idea.
10) Wow, it's really not.

Does Moral Absolutism Exist?

wow. I was all set up to write a blog here, but then work got in the way. Please kill me.

First Law Of Games (music nazis make me want to vomit)

I titled this entry after possibly the most obscure mp3 I have in my collection. If you have it, and enjoy it, I would love to father your babies, or, on the flip side, carry your babies (but not in a gay way).

I guess you can't judge a person based on their musical tastes. I mean, you definitely can, but then you're that annoying chick my freshman year of college who engaged me in this wonderful discourse:

"Do you like Weezer?"
"Not really."
"What's your favorite song of theirs?"
"As I said, I don't really like them that much"
"Tell me"
"OK, I guess I like 'The Sweater Song', that's pretty good"
"YOU FUCKING POSER! It's people like you that destroy music and put crappy videos on MTV"
"I said I don't like Weezer"
"Whatever, go listen to Limp Bizkit, asshole"

That's pretty much verbatim, and yes, I'm sure I'm misspelling "Bizkit", but I'm not sure if that's the band's preferred spelling or complete bollocks. Honestly, probably both.

That was the same girl who criticized my friend for being into the "Dave Matthews Band". Music Nazis make me want to vomit.

Actually, taking that a step further, I guess I make myself vomit. I love weird, obscure music (weird 80's stuff, out there rock 'n roll, 'etc'), but if I meet someone who's into the same stuff, I generally have one of three reactions:

1) I'm in LOVE! (if it's a beautiful woman)
2) This person doesn't know as much about the band as I do. What a poser! (if it's a dude)
3) I'm confused about your sexuality (if it's a tranny)

Why do 20 somethings judge people based on their musical tastes? I'm not sure. I guess when you're searching for a concrete identity, you latch on to something that will define you concretely; glasses-wearing Weezer nerd, baggy pantsed hip-hopster, sullen-faced emo puss. "Hey, I'm not sure who I am, but this MP3 I just downloaded will tell the WORLD that I'm awesome!"

When you consider that we're here for what...? Like 75-85 years, and we waste our time judging and being judged based on our clothes, hair and music...what's the point? Personally I've got the "red wine philosophy" on life: drink it until everything starts sounding good.

Speaking of that, there's a 6 dollar bottle of vino calling my name.

But watch out, youngins! Too much wine and you might just find yourself being into these guys and that would be BADD.