Friday, May 23, 2008

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.


Wednesday, May 21, 2008

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...

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

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.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

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...

Thursday, May 15, 2008

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.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

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?

Saturday, May 10, 2008

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.

Friday, May 09, 2008

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 :)

Thursday, May 08, 2008

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."

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

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.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

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.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

My Day Planner

Excerpts from My Day Planner:


12pm-1pm: Cry
1pm-2pm: Masturbate
2pm-4pm: Cry while Masturbating
4pm-5pm: Golden Girls on Lifetime
5pm-6pm: Watch Golden Girls on Lifetime, cry, masturbate

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Bar-hack Obama

Why do I love Barack Obama?

I was just watching him on "The Daily Show With Jon Stewart". All throughout Stewart's semi-amusing Harpo Marx-esque mugging, Obama kept his sheepish grin. Do I actually believe Obama thought everything Stewart said was funny? That would be a no. Did Obama's sheepish smile seem genuine? Most definitely.

This is basically what I've been looking for since I've been voting (Yes, my first vote was for Nader in 2000. My hands and heart are still black); a candidate who can SMILE like they mean it. I think you can tell a lot about yourself based on your candidate's smile.

Let's take a look:

John McCain:He's got that; "oh, I'll pretend your joke is funny, even though I'm old, my prostate's swollen to the size of a watermelon and I'm waiting to collect my social security check; what is this newfangled internot of which you speak? I watch the tube-you!" look about him.

If you vote for him, your sense of humor hovers around that "TV Land at four in the morning, either really old or extremely unemployable loner" category.

Hillary Rodham-Clinton:Now this is the smile of a woman who's been pretending her husband hasn't been "dipping his pen in the company ink" for the past 25 years. This is the "smile at all costs, even though I'm dead inside" smile. "Oh, my life is going to hell? Well that's just swell because your joke is HILARIOUS! Now get me some single-malt whiskey".

You'd vote for her if you were: a scorned woman; a porn star (this smile reminds me of the "wow, that 12 inch cock will sure feel great in my arse!" porn star look), or Bill Clinton; although who the hell knows who he really voted for in the primary; after all, he was the first black president. Ba-dum-bump.

Finally, here's my man:


OK, so I'm a heterosexual, but I sure would love to nibble on those pearly whites. This is the smile of a man who, if does not genuinely find you funny, CARES about whether of not you think he finds you funny; he's the guy who you buy a beer for at the bar because he laughed at your genuinely unfunny quip about modern life, the kind of guy who is gregarious and nods and smirks and takes his shirt off when you rub his chest and...oh wait, I'm confusing my homosexual fantasy with this blog post. Oh well.

You vote for him if: you're me. Or, according to the media, you're a liberal elitist who wants to raise taxes, cuddle up with Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and kill all the Jews with your buddy Jeremiah Wright. I always knew I was a self-hating Jew!

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

15 Years Of Desert Island Discs

My 5 Desert Island Discs.

by me, age 12, 17, 22, 27

Discs by Matt, Age 12:
1)
Stone Temple Pilots - "Core" : Because even though they were poseurs absolute, they wrote the kickass music that any 12 year old would love.
2)
Guns N Roses - "Use Your Illusion II": Even though I was about 2 years late to the GnR fad, any angry 12 year old is going to love songs like "You Could Be Mine". I remember getting to 8th Grade so happy to have finally gotten into the music that everyone else loved...only to find every kid was a gangsta rapper.
3)
Wu-Tang Clan - "Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)": To this day, I can recite almost every lyric of every track from this album. I saw them on "The Box" before they got big and immediately fell in love with ODB. Who could resist?
4)
Porno For Pyros - "Porno For Pyros": This is actually the one album that I have not bothered listening to since I was 12. It was among the first tapes that I got, and there were some remarkable tracks; "Pets", "Cursed Female", and the like. I don't know why I never picked this up again, but I just haven't.
5)
Spin Doctors - "Pocket Full of Kryptonite": A reasonably awesome album with some really amazing tracks. The blend of blues, Greatful Dead jamming and whistle-licisious melodies have made these songs stick with me longer than perhaps they should have.

After this, I really got into Mudhoney for about 2 years. I was obsessed! I got every single one of their albums, as well as about 10 bootlegs (who would have thought Mudhoney had bootlegs!).

Matt, age 17, lists his Desert Island Discs:

1)
David Bowie - "Diamond Dogs": This and "Scary Monsters" were probably my favorite Bowie albums at the time. The "Candidate/Sweet Thing/Candidate (reprise)" suite is a-mind-blowin'!
2)
Frank Zappa - "Apostrophe *": I dare anyone reading this (OK, that would just be me) to list a better commercial Zappa album. It's got great musicianship, catchy suites and funny lyrics. Plus all the Yellow Snow any 17 year old boy could want.
3)
T. Rex - "The Slider": Simple, whistlable guitar lines with simple, whistlable vocal melodies really combine to make one...whistlable album. Even if I'm not in the T. Rex mood, I can always play a track or two from this "joint" and jam on my air guitar. Also love the space-age, vaguely gay lyrics, and the fact that Marc Bolan was Jewish. Oh, and he named his kid "Rolan": Rolan Bolan. Good times.
4)
The Rolling Stones - "Some Girls": Probably the best latter-day Stones album (IE, the best album they've released since "Exile On Main Street"). Pretty diverse too. What other album at the time would have the country honk of "Far Away Eyes" placed next to the new wave of "Shattered" and the disco of "Miss You"? A precursor of today's "iPod-shuffle" albums from the Gorrilaz and N.E.R.D. Good stuff.
5)
Syd Barrett - "Barrett": I think his first album's better now, but back then I couldn't resist "Gigolo Aunt" and the "Effervescing Elephant". Looking back, I think people are obsessed with him because what MIGHT have been, rather then what was. Both of his solo albums are really a hit or miss affair.

OK, then I went to college and people started downloading music and albums became worthless relics of an earlier age. Those who still listened to CDs were dragged out into the street, beaten with a Zune and cast into a river tied to a rock to see if they were witches.

I still managed to get an album or two here, but like it was for everyone else, it was about the song, rather then the delectable whole of a well-sequenced record.

Matt, age 22:

1)
The Psychedelic Furs - "Forever Now": This is by far and away their best album. I should add an "IMHO", but screw Internet initialisms. Almost every track is bursting with energy; mostly because of the subtle synths and the blistering lead guitar work. Have you heard "President Gas"? Listen to that lead line: it makes me want to punch a transient.
2)
The Teardrop Explodes - "Kilimanjaro": Wow, here's another eye opener. Disco bass, super-charged Philly soul brass, angular guitar lines and weird-ass lyrics truly make this sucker a golden remnant of a long-gone era. That was a shitty way to end a sentence, but there you go.
3)
Julian Cope - "Interpreter": Again, this is not my favorite Cope Album (that award would probably go to "World Shut Your Mouth"; I just didn't get that one until I was 23), but there are three or four tracks on this album that would blow a deaf person's mind. "S.P.A.C.E.R.O.C.K. With Me" and "I Come From Another Planet, Baby" are slickly sweet camp amazingness and "Cheap New-Age Fix" has an instrumental coda which would melt the wax of any record player you dare put the album on.
4)
The Smiths - "The Queen Is Dead": That's one fine album. I think it's probably their best, especially as Morrissey is at his morbid poetess peak and the chugging pop riffs are as catchy as humanly possible. The depressive 12 year old girl smoking cigarettes by the graveyard and cutting initials into her arm inside me totally has a favorite album.
5)
Adult. - "Resuscitation": Hey, it's Dance Punk! Remember how Electro got big in the early-naughts? No? Well @$!% you, then! This is actually a pretty good album and I burnt a hole in the CD because I listened to it so much my senior year of college. No one else liked it for some reason! I would play it for almost everyone and I would generally get rolled eyes and one time, someone projectile vomited at me. I remember I thought I would impress a bunch of stoned filmies at my house party by playing this for them, and they walked out! Getting stoned film students out of your house is a pretty tough task, so I guess Adult. was good for something. I suppose people weren't ready for their Nintendo-y drum beats and dissonant female vocals. They were pretty shitty live though; just two people: a singer, bass player and a whole lotta sequenced drums.

OK, Matt, age 27, what do you think?

OK, third person narrator; my ALL TIME TOP FIVE DESERT ISLAND DISCS*

*subject to change on a daily basis.

1)
The Beatles - "White Album" - I mean, come on. Sure, there are a few tracks here and there which aren't up to Beatles standard ("Wild Honey Pie" or "Good Night", for example), and it's not as good as "Revolver" or "Abbey Road", but it's got more Beatles songs then any other of their albums and includes 2 of my favorite George Harrison compositions ("While My Guitar Gently Weeps" and "Savoy Truffle").
2)
David Bowie - "Ziggy Stardust" - This is a close one, because I would almost rather choose "Scary Monsters", but this album gets the nod because it is so perfectly arranged; I could listen to it a million times and find something new each time. Thanks, Mick Ronson.
3)
Frank Zappa - "We're Only In It For The Money" - It's a close race between this one, "You Are What You Is", and "Apostrophe *", but this one wins because of the sheer volume of different music on it. I love the 30 second song-snippets, but I just wish Zappa had fleshed some of them out a little more and made them into legit songs. Zappa gets the last laugh because he writes way better pop music then the pop music he's lampooning.
4)
The Teardrop Explodes - "Kilimanjaro"- Unlike all the other albums on this list, this has been my desert Island choice since I got it. I don't think it's been demoted or overtaken by another Teardrops disc in the past 8 years.
5)
The Rolling Stones - "Exile On Main Street" - This is one album I don't come back to all that often (maybe once every 2 years or so), but I consistently acknowledge that it's an amazing collection of songs that the Stones never really equaled. I could imagine laying back in the hot sun, popping open a cocoanut, snuggling next to my favorite Monkey, and falling asleep while listening to its' melodic hard rock and bluesy interludes.

Good times on Desert Island.

Monday, April 07, 2008

Walking In LA

I sip uncomfortably on my Styrofoam water cup. It's free and not soda, so I frequently indulge in its watery deliciousness. As I take stock of the situation, four things come to mind. They are (in no particular order):

1) People in LA have much larger lips then anywhere else in the world: I don't know which consortium of plastic surgeons were responsible for perpetuating the myth that somehow bigger lips equate to "foxy time sexiness", but I'd sure like to beat them about the head with a surgically enhanced wang. And while I was beating them so little globs of Botox mixed seamlessly with the large pools of blood that flowed freely from all of their orifices, I'd ask:
"Why, prey tell, did you make Meg Ryan so nasty looking? I mean, she was hot, no HAUT, before, but now?

Ol' Fish Lip McRyan looks like the last stripper at the club circa 4am. The kind that offers coupons because of the plainly obvious ravages years of unchecked venereal disease and drug abuse have taken on her once merely unattractive body.

2) A Dream Deferred Is A Dream Denied, But If You're Living In LA, It's Reasonable To Deny That Dream If You're 40 And Still Trying To Network And Write Spec Scripts For "The Suite Life Of Zack and Cody":
LA is the land of the broken; long haired 55 year olds producing sequels to horror movies you never heard about in the first place, handing out business cards to 20-somethings hungry for fame while writing scripts about "A Cop On The Edge" or "A CIA Agent Who Must Go Undercover With A Nerdy High School Student", and who, undoubtedly, will be handing out their business cards to the next generation of shitty writers when they're 55. It's the cycle of life; the snake eating its' tail. Vomit.

3) Literally Nobody Walks in LA:
Sure, that might be a catchy New Wave song by three hit wonder MISSING PERSONS, but it's also a poignant
aphorism. I think I am the only person who dares walk more then the distance from the restaurant to the valet here. Valet means "personal man-servant" and I believe that pretty much sums up Angelenos attitude towards a lot of things. People here need everything done for them to such an extent that they will pay a "man-servant" 5 dollars to park their car, rather then waste one to two minutes of their precious time finding parking around the corner.

I have literally seen cars go around and around looking for a parking space right in front of a restaurant instead of simply parking around the corner. Perhaps people frightened of walking. Maybe mothers tell their children bedtime stories of the evil "Walk Monster" who eats your soul and rapes your first born if you dare "park around the corner, like a sodomite!"

Now, I admit, after two years of living here, I have adopted some of the lazier habits of the native
Angeleno (lardass erectus). I drive places I could easily walk to, I eat hamburgers (I have never seen so many burger joints!), and dip my french fries in Mayo. My legs have become a wobbly gelatinous mess and I can barely make it more then a mile without running out of breath. Occasionally, I sweat when I eat and more often then not I cry while I breathe.

But I still like to go for a nice hour long walk daily; if the air wasn't so polluted, it would be a refreshing jaunt down barren, lifeless streets. I stare at the people in their cars who stare back, their faces saying "what is wrong with that guy? Is he homeless? Mentally deranged? Did his car break down?" A cop pulled me over and made me wear a scarlet W on my chest. W FOR WALKER! Sigh. What's a Northeasterner to do?


4) Frienemies! Or, How to Make Friends and Influence Hollywood!
Everyone is "frienemies" in this town. You're friends with someone (friends meaning a "coffee meeting" twice a year), provided they can get you somewhere in the film industry. The second that person is successful, you're their BEST FRIEND, because after all; you've been friends for so long that you've met for coffee at least twice. The second you realize that person ISN'T successful, emails don't get answered, calls don't get returned, and scripts are dismissed without being read.

Take, for example, a former teacher of mine. I frequently discussed my career path with him, but after a year or so past graduation (and a year or so of me doing PA work), he didn't return my phone calls, answer my emails or talk about me in polite company.

Now, at some point, my film got accepted into the very prestigious Tribeca Film Festival, and figured that I would give him a ring and let him know. I knew he didn't want to talk to me (I had called him two weeks prior and never heard back) and I didn't want to be in an uncomfortable conversation, so I called him on a Saturday afternoon on his office phone
, figuring he wouldn't pick up. I figured wrong.

He picked up after two rings.

Teacher: Hello?
Matt: Hey, it's Matt Manson.
Teacher (extremely disappointed): Oh, hi Matt. What do you want?
Matt: I just wanted to let you know that my film got accepted into the Tribeca Film Festival.
Teacher: What?
Matt: My film got into Tribeca!
Teacher: Oh My GOD! Matt's that's terrific news! Did you get my e-mail?!? I didn't have your number and that's why haven't called you! But I e-mailed! Did you get it?
Matt: No.
Teacher: That's strange, because I sent it! I always knew your movie would be a success!!!

There were a few laughable things about that exchange:

1) He was obviously lying, knew I knew he was lying, but just assumed that he could get away with it, because he was saying something nice.
2) Specifically, he lied about sending an email and was lying about knowing my movie "would be a success". He had told me after a screening a few months before that, "if you worked really hard on reediting your film, you might end up with an OK short".

But, there you go. LA! People come out of the woodworks the second they sniff the rancid, putrid stank of success.

After I won an award at Tribeca and was signing a contract with my then-manager, I had a friend I hadn't spoken to in 5 years call me up and ask to grab a drink at a bar. I told him to meet me at 7pm.

He showed up at 8:45pm and may have been wearing his clothes from the night before. This is literally how the conversation went:

Him: Yo! Sorry I was so late, I've been on a coke bender all day. I haven't slept in a week.
Me: Uhm, that's OK. How are you doing?
Him: Yeah, I'm fine. So, can you get me a job or what?

Needless to say, that guy ended up directing a feature film before me. I would
hasten to say that has more to do with the "friendship building" power of cocaine in Hollywood than anything else.

So I finish my free water (the concept of PAYING for water is still pretty ridiculous) and throw the cup away. I pass a group of mustachioed hipsters "taking a meeting" in a Starbucks, discussing film and their upcoming projects; one had a script called "Miss Matched" about someone with the last named Matched.

I vomited in my mouth a little, took a deep sigh and headed back to my apartment, which I pretended was in New York City.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

My Great Uncle

My grandmother passed away yesterday (3/24/08) at the all-too-young age of 98. I say "all-too-young" (with grammatically dubious dashes), because she never seemed like she would die. I remember when I was a child and she was in her early 80s, I assuredly thought she'd still be baking me gooey Apple Pies and scrumptious Chocolate Cakes well into her 120s. Even towards the end; as she was sick, frail and bedridden, her spirit remained strong and I had no doubts that Willard Scott would be announcing her 100th birthday on "The Today Show" in 2009. Her spirit was just THAT strong: she was the definition of a tough old broad and will forever be missed by those that knew her.

Anyway, I attended the funeral this morning. It was sad, funny and beautiful. I was most effected when my Aunt played Sophie Tucker's "Some Of These Days" on a little portable boom box. Lyrics like:

"And when you leave me you know it's gonna grieve me
Gonna miss your big, fat mamma, your mamma some of these days"

Seem to be written about my big old fat grandma.

While at the funeral I saw my dad's cousin Charlie (or Charlsie! for short). He's a gregarious, funny, amiable fellow that you immediately take a liking to after hearing a single burst of his humongous laugh. His parents were also first cousins, which is neither here nor there.

He told me this amazing story about my great uncle Lee Myles (my grandmother's brother). Lee was a big-band leader who was a contemporary of Irving Berlin and had articles written about him by the likes of Ed Sullivan. He started his own automotive transmission store aptly named "Lee Myles". It's a chain today that's located mostly around the northeast. His store had a big billboard with his name on it, smack in the middle of the Long Island Expressway. It had a big clock, so people who waited in traffic could check the time. Can you imagine people driving around without knowing what time it is?

Charlsie worked for Lee (and later ran one of his stores) and recounted a very funny story to me. Sometime around 1959 or 1960 Lee was contacted by General Motors. They wanted to pay him 7 Million Dollars to buy his stores and another 500 thousand a year to run the place. 7 Million bucks is a lot of money now, I can't even conceive how much that was back then.

Anyway, Lee was excited and was about to make the deal. In the final meeting GM told him and Charlsie what they wanted to do: take Lee's name off the billboard on the expressway and replace it with a GM sign. After all, it would be great advertising; all those motorists checking the time with a huge GM clock. This was a major thing for them.

Lee walked out of the meeting, looked at Charlsie and said "Fuck them!". Charlsie tried to convince Lee that he could maybe negotiate and have the sign say "GM presents Lee Myles", but Lee would hear nothing of it; no damn company was taking HIS name off the L.I.E. He turned the deal down flat and nothing was ever mentioned of it again.

He's my new hero. What a wonderful stubborness! Nanny was special, but obviously she came from a special family: and I'm glad to be a part of it.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

21st Century Barbershop

INT. GAIL'S FRONT HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
Will answers the door...

It's three guys dressed in BARBERSHOP QUARTET outfits; STRAW HATS, PINSTRIPE SUITS...

They are lead by DAVE (36), balding, thin with THICK GLASSES.

He's flanked by BOB R. (37), overweight and tall, and BOB S. (34), a DWARF.

DAVE
Where the hell were you?

WILL
Uh, sorry, long day at work.

DAVE
Work? Work! Dave Dean and His Throatful Three is your work.

BOB R
Yeah, man, how are we ever going to get big if you don't commit 100% to the group?

BOB S
Yeah, Mark. Don't be selfish.

DAVE
America is hungry for something new. That something is Barbershop. Sure, we could wait and take our time, but then some other arcane form of music could come along and take America by storm; Opera Hip Hop, for example.

BOB R
Not to mention Baroque Techno.

WILL
Ok, ok, you guys wanna rehearse here?

DAVE
Now you're talking!
He SNIFFS.

DAVE (CONT'D)
Is Gail getting lit? Does she have some to go around?

BOB S
I know I want some crack.

CUT TO:
INT. GAIL'S LIVING ROOM - LATER

Gail, Dave, Bob R., and Bob S. are sitting around watching TV and smoking crack.

Will has his head in his hands.
GAIL
You sure you don't want some, Marky?

WILL
No crack for me, thanks.

BOB S
Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. We're the fucking funky bunch!

BOB R
You know what is amazing about this world? I mean, let's be honest, we all look at each other and see our differences, but in reality, we're all the same. We should be seeing how same we are instead of how different.

GAIL
Wow.

BOB S
Yeah, wow.

DAVE
You know what's amazing? We're going to be big. Barbershop is going to be so fucking big.

Will looks FRIGHTENED.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

sunset (2002)

live without
the closing of the night
day comes

this unsuspecting hour
in our condescending
never ending
just pretending
lines

sunset this
life closing all the eyes
they try

to reawake their dreams
in these mass confusion
pure illusion
substitution
times

angry fires
put out upon the night
less sky

in this crisp suburban night
we saw god itself
stars that fell
shadows that ached in
fire

Memories, or lack thereof

It's interesting to note that I cannot remember a damn thing about my life.

No, it's not the film "Memento", and I am not "Henry M" (google that sucker), but I literally cannot remember anything from the past 27 years. Sure, I know the edited highlights, like my first kiss or those 8 years that I spent crying, but there are severe blocks missing. I suppose time passes and memory fades, but this is pretty ridiculous.

OK, take for example my high school years; not a thing. The only time a vague memory pops into my head is when I listen to music that I listened to back then. Just for my mental health, I will draw up a list here:

Freshman year (95-96):
Fall: Green River, Mudhoney, Monkeywrench...damn, there's gotta be more...those are all Mark Arm related.
Spring: Beatles (Sgt. Pepper), Led Zepplin, STP (Tiny Music), Elastica's first album.

Sophmore Year (96-97):
Fall: George Harrison (more like summer '96), Rolling Stones (Tatoo You, "Heaven" reminds me of riding NJ Transit back to NYC), Cream, Jimi Hendrix (Axis: Bold As Love), A little Sublime.
Spring: David Bowie (Singles: 69-93), More Rolling Stones (Sticky Fingers taped off the radio, Some Girls!),

Junior Year (97-98):
Here's where it gets a little hazy. I recall downloading pornography online that had a song called "Uncle Remus" over it, in the days before all the lyric engines, it took me a few days to figure out it was Frank Zappa. I fell in love with "Apostrophe" that year. Also my love of David Bowie began to take shape. Love, in a non-gay way, of course. Speaking of gay, I also fell in love with Trex's "The Slider" album. I remember listening to it in physics class and my teacher (who was a former Motley Crue roadie) said "don't you listen to anything that's not from the 70's?"

Now that I'm writing this, I begin to remember the summer of '98 at North Carolina School of The Arts (the story of that summer is best left to another entry), but I do remember going there with an audio cassette of "Piper At The Gates Of Dawn", which blew my mind (especially the first few minutes of "Interstellar Overdrive"), which means I bought it in the spring. So I guess my watershed albums that year were "Piper" "Apstrophe" and...gotta be something by Bowie. I'm trying to go album by album to remember when I bought each. Let me run it down:

Space Oddity: Cassette, summer of '97 (At UMass), CD summer of '99 (off Ebay). I got it (along with "Low", "Heroes" on tape and I think "Aladdin Sane" on CD) at this great record/tape store in Amhurst. I think the tapes were like 3 bucks each and the CD's were 7). I remember listening to this album on my cassette player as I took a camp trip to Boston in a big Greyhound-style bus.
The Man Who Sold The World: CD: Summer of '98 (In North Carolina), I lost it at a screening of the movie "Insomnia", so I think I rebought it in 2003ish, and lost it again. "Black Country Rock" played the first night I ever spent with a woman...although I guess she was a girl then.
Hunky Dory: I believe I bought this in the summer of '97. I know I had it by the summer of '98, because a guy named Dave had it and we debated which version of The Supermen was better. It was probably one of the first Bowie CDs I got because it had so many singles on it and I have a vague memory of listening to it at UMass.
Ziggy: Spring of '97 (during a weekend I spent at school), I got the special edition in 2002 for Christmas or something. It was my first non-compilation Bowie album, and I remember thinking that "Suffragette City" was the only track that was good. By the end of the school year, I put it away, but I probably revisited it after buying a few more Bowie Albums.
Aladin Sane: No memory of buying it. Probably at North Carolina or beginning of my senior year. I remember BLARING the title track all day long my junior year, where I have a vague recollection of pretending I was fronting a band performing this. What a piano solo!
Diamond Dogs: I remember buying this my senior year in NYC, sitting in the bathroom, expecting to hate it (I expected to hate all Bowie albums; that was the joy, I always fell in love with them after the first 3-4 listens). I had "1984" on my dorm answering machine and I know that my good friend Jake was still humming some of these tracks well into college.
Young Americans: I bought this on LP! in the fall of my senior year, which was a better mix then the CD, so I taped it. I think I finally got the CD at the end of my senior year. Listening to this album makes me think about the end of high school and all the things I left behind (pretentious warning): my innocence, youth, dreams, etc. In high school, everything was possible. College was "now make that possible".
Station To Station: Definitely during NCSA in 98. "Stay" was an anthem for me that summer.
Low: Tape in '97, CD all the way in '99. I remember listening to this on the same trip to Boston as Space Oddity, but I didn't get into either album.
Heroes: Exactly the same as Low. I never connected to the instrumentals on these albums, so I never really wanted the CDs. I must say that I sampled some of the instrumentals on this album to create my first song ever (as well as my freshman year of college final project, which got nominated to some NYU festival).
Lodger: Summer of '99. This was my last "classic" David Bowie album that I bought. My CD player got fucked up once, and I remember listening to Bowie's backup vocals only on "African Night Flight". He's just SCREAMING! Also, I remember my friend Freddie thought Bowie was saying "Gotta get a boyfriend". It was weird. Speaking of that, I remember his friend Greg was scared to listen to Marvin Gaye...because he thought he was gay. Oy gavult!
Scary Monsters: I know I was listening to this by my junior year, because I lent it to a kid who left my high school after that year. I remember him saying "I wish he'd sing normal like on the second track". Oddly enough, that was my first reaction after listening to that album, but it's probably my all time favorite Bowie album.
Let's Dance: I held out for that one...I want to say 2002. I know I played it when I worked at my brother's bar sometimes.
Tonight: I think I ended up downloading this in 2004. Pretty shitty album.
Never Let Me Down: I think I downloaded this around 2002. I remember listening to it a lot that summer at my mother's house, while having a long distance relationship with a hell beast (that's also another story).
Black Tie, White Noise: I remember listening to "Miracle Goodnight" a lot in the summer of '99, so I imagine I got it around then, possibly before. I had a big crush on this Korean girl that summer, so I used to watch Korean TV a lot on cable to have something to talk to her about. Of course it was over email, but we went back and forth every day. I think it's because I called her beautiful in her yearbook. Her mother looked younger then she did.
Outside: This was the first album that I downloaded ever. Right when Napster hit in the first few weeks of College in '99. The downfall of CDs. I was in love with track 3...what was that song called? The Heart's Filthy Lesson! I believe this album played the first time I was with this awful college girlfriend.
Earthling: Someone gave this to me during the summer of '98 (she was multi-colored hair and overweight), but the CD was scratched and I couldn't get into it. I believe that I started to fall in love with it around 2000/2001 as I went for long walks around NYC for exercize. Good walking album. I think I've bought it like 3 times, cuz I kept losing it.
hours...God this album sucked. I got it the day it came out in 1999, but I remember streaming the tracks beforehand on MTV.com or something and saying to myself "I usually hate Bowie's albums, but grow to love them. This one isn't like the rest". It reminds me of Freshman year of college and hanging out in 3rd North. I remember everyone calling me in when Bowie presented an award at the MTV music awards in '99. I also remember Guns N Roses' new song premiered that night...it was also their last new song, and crappy.
Heathen: Right when it came out in the summer of '02. This was a great album and I listened to it alot around the same time I listened to "Never Let Me Down". I remember emailing tracks to my awful long distance girlfriend who was awful.
Reality (the only album title I had to look up), came out right after I shot my short in 2003. I remember never getting into this, playing it alot as I showered while living at my mom's house and still dating the long distance girlfriend (who was living in NYC at the time and cheating on me a lot...again, another story). I remember buying it and making her sit down at a Starbucks while I listened to the album over and over again.

OK, well that covers my junior year. Except, well, I did spend one Saturday pacing back and forth listening to "Thuglife", which was sort of a Tupac album. I fell in love with this crazy looking girl and I wanted despirately to ask her out, but I didn't have the balls. So...for some reason that gangsta album spoke to me.

Senior Year (98-99):
Fall: You Are What You Is (Frank Zappa, bought at the wonderous Princeton Record Exchange, a day when I bought like 3-4 Zappa albums..Friday night. Mr. Liwoz surprised me by telling me he loves Zappa), I remember listening to Paul McCartney's greatest hits a bunch and staring at a screen saver, Diamond Dogs (I still think about the first Grand Theft Auto, with me Jesse, Alan and Jake sitting around...we used to leave Alan playing and sometimes he didn't notice we left him; even for hours), Trout Mask Replica (my friend Jesse gave that to me when he didn't understand it. Actually, I think I just stole it from him). Another memory...I traded a bottle of Vodka that my brother gave me to this guy for the 3 CD Lather set from Zappa, which he bought on Amazon.com.
Spring: Jethro Tull (Cross Eyed Mary brings me right back to directing the senior play), Young Americans (Right blew me away, I repeated the middle 8 soooo much), We're Only in it For The Money (which was the first time I ever saw a CD-r, my friend Jake burned it for me!)

That's about all I can remember about music in high school. I'm sure more will come to me.

What does that say about me? Well, first, I had a hopelessly outdated taste in music...barely anything contemporaneous there. Second, well, I remember more about music then I do high school. I guess it's just easier to remember a feeling then anything that actually happens to you. The warmth I feel listening to Diamond Dogs (which is a downer album) is directly related to hazy memories of sitting around playing computer games. Those may very well be some of the happiest times of my life, even if I can't remember them. At least the music still reminds me of what it's like being so happy.

I think about each of those semesters (and summers) and the music really relates to how I was feeling at the time; I was so angry at age 14, that I was listening to screaming grunge. As I got happier, so did my musical taste. Actually, it's probably as I got weirder, so did my musical taste. Which reminds me, I didn't put Syd Barrett on here, because I listened to him almost exclusively over the summer of '98. Which, as I said, is another story onto itself.

I barely remember my life, but I remember the Soundtrack. It's just like the movie "Singles". I AM THE MOVIE SINGLES!

Monday, February 11, 2008

Ratrick and the Choker

I worked at a certain unfortunate internet company from May of 2006 until two weeks ago. I call them unfortunate, not because I worked there, but because the company is so ill managed that they make something that's poorly managed look entirely well managed. I wish them nothing but ill will and I pray for nothing but failure, and in certain employee's cases, a horrid case of genital herpes.

It might sound like I was fired...that is not true. I quit with all the audacity of hope of a Barack Obama novel. That's for damn sure.

Anyways, if I was to try to pick out a particular incident that defined my unfortunate internet company's unfortunate hiring practices...this would be it: An incompetent manager and a semi-retarded subordinate with all the creative talent of a CW reality show producer.

There are insignificant times in your life, which are sort-of worth remembering; nothing "life shaping" like a first kiss or the first day on your first job...but the kind of story that you recount amongst friends if something apropos came up.


One such story involves new years 1996 when my friend Rachel J and I signed on to AOL chat rooms, pretended to be an underage girl, had cyber sex with old men, then told them as they were climaxing that we were young boys.

I remember with GLEE when one said "I'm going to report you to AOL!"
I wrote back, "Report what? That you're having cybersex with a teenage boy?"
When they didn't respond, I came back with, "huh...loser"?
To which they retorted with wit straight from Thurber, "FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!"

I guess me and Rachel were the original "To Catch a Predator". Good times.

Anyway, the point of my story...well, there's no actual point, but I do have a ripping good yarn that I would like to recount at a bar one day.

The Story of Ratrick and The Choker

I had been working with The Choker for a little over a year. She was my producer and generally an aimable young lass. Occasionally, during a video shoot, she would interject "would the shot look better if you...?" or, "shouldn't she say the line like this?". But I simply dismissed her suggestions and she generally wouldn't follow up.

I know it was all good natured, and generally came out of a false sense of equality that I had fostered. Sure, she worked FOR me, not WITH me...but did I need to remind her that? As long as she was getting her job done, she could tell me how to write and direct, because frankly, I couldn't give half a shit.

Then she took a two week vacation. When she got back, things changed. It must have been one of those revelatory "what am I doing in my life?" types of vacations. (not the "sit on my ass and watch British Sitcoms", which I much prefer). Her suggestions were now not so easily dismissed and the orders that I gave were not so kindly received.

I told her to make phone calls, she said "why don't you make the phone calls?". I told her to organize a shoot, she said "why can't you help out?", I told her to "be my producer" and she said "Suck my vagina, bitch". Yet, she always protested that nothing was different.

One time, I brought my feelings about this to her attention.

I calmly ask her:

"Are you ever upset at me? I'm concerned that you're holding something in."

Her eyes began to water and she started to wave her hands near her head, as if the room had magically transported itself from Los Angeles to the Shara desert. There were definitely no camels around.

"No, nothing's ever wrong. Everything's fine."
"Well, I can tell you're upset with me sometimes, so I was hoping you'd tell me why, so we can fix it"
"I've NEVER been upset with you. Tell me when I've EVER been upset with you!?"
"Well, off the top of my head, what about that time I asked you to make phone calls and you told me 'to make them myself'. Or how about that time I told you to get the shoot together and you told me that you wouldn't do it?".
"OK, fine...those were the ONLY two times I've EVER been upset with you. Everything is fine between us".
She then excused herself and ran out with a coworker. I stuck my head outside, saw her flailing her arms like a drowning retard and heard this snippet:
"when I was hired...this isn't what was supposed to happen!"

OK, I thought. BAD IDEA. Never again will I bring anything to her attention, because she's completely insane.

Well, a few months passed, and she still behaved the same way. Co-workers came up to me and said "Why does The Choker hate you so much?". I always just shrugged. Like Atlas, except much less poetic. There was nothing to be done.

This is where Ratrick comes in. I'll preface this by saying that Ratrick is even more insane then The Choker. He's my supervisor...a short, stubby nothing of a man who tries to rule with an iron fist, yet is crippled by the fear of being replaced. His favorite pastime is dragging me along with him for a 45 minute car ride where he questions my loyalty to him. He begs for constant reassurance; "yes, Ratrick...I'm not talking to management about you", "yes, Ratrick, I DO think everyone else is out to get you"

This is what he said to me the first week that I met him.

We were sitting together late one night and I was on my way home;

"Matt," He said with cadence and mannerisms of a Sopranos character, "If you're my friend, I'm the best friend you'll ever have. But...don't cross me...if you cross me, I'm the WORST enemy you'll ever have". He grinned a faux-fiendish grin and stared deeply in my eyes. "Go home to your woman, Matt". "Have a good night, Matt".

All I could do was leave the "Goodfellas" scene study and laugh. What a fucking douchbag of a pathetic loser.

Anyways, he enters our story one day when I'm having another experience with the lovely Miss Choker.

I was given some stupid shoot to manage. I was also busy doing something else, so Choker took full reign and assigned positions. Per her decision, my position was "sitting on the computer doing nothing".

I pulled her aside and said "I wish you wouldn't tell people what I'm supposed to do"
Normally, a big, fake smile is plastered all over her face. That went away quickly.
"Not to go tit for tat, but you ALWAYS tell people what I should be doing"
Now, my response to this should have been 'yes, that's true, because I'm your boss'...but it wasn't. I just said "I feel marginalized enough and I don't need to feel more marginalized".

She walked out in a huff. Or was it a minute and a huff? I can't remember.

Ratrick immediately popped his head in and nodded towards his car and told me to "get in". Great. Another of his fucking loyalty tests. I didn't need that.

After I was kidnapped, Ratrick and I talked about the Choker. I expressed to him that I thought she was upset with me and that she really didn't want me telling her what to do.

"But you're her fucking boss. Did you tell her you're her fucking boss?"
"No, it would just start shit again. I don't want to go through that"
"I'll talk to her"
"Please don't"
"No, I'll talk to her and tell her it was something I observed"
"Please don't talk to her. This isn't a 'please don't talk to her, but actually talk to her because I don't want to tell you to talk to her, but you should', this is a 'please don't fucking talk to her'. It's only going to make things worse".
"OK".

CUT TO: MONDAY MORNING!

The Choker and I sit quietly discussing our weekends. I visited my brother and I didn't pay attention to what she said.

Ratrick came in and closed the door behind him. "Are you fucking serious?" I thought.

Emotions began to run through my head. Do I shake my head? Do I wave my arms? Is it smoke signals? DON'T FUCKING DO THIS!

He sits down.

"Now, a matter has been brought to my attention. Normally I would bring this to HR, but I don't want to get anyone else involved, we can't look weak".
The Choker looked at me "what the fuck is he talking about?"
I looked back at her "yeah, what the fuck is he talking about? DEAR GOD, PLEASE MAKE HIM STOP".

"Matt has come to me and told me that he's having a problem with you. Choker, Matt is your boss, OK?"

Choker begins to cry. Of course, I thought, what a completely true, yet unfortunately bullshit thing to say, I thought. What an ASS, I thought.

"Matt, do you have anything to add?"

"No"

"Choker?"

"I think MATT should say something, it's his thing"

She looked at me as if I was Hitler raping her dog while setting her vagina on fire. I needed to say something...

"Listen, Ratrick, I respect the fact that you wanted to be a manager in this situation, but I didn't want to do this. This wasn't necessary".

He looked at me with disdain. WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO SAY? Is this a porn film? Should I have slapped my dick on her face and said "suck it whore?" Sure, I may have dreamt about being in that situation, but those are mere idle reveries. A pipe dream, as it were.

I was sitting in a windowless office with half a desk, a hysterical girl and a huge douchebag. I had to chose which person I needed to placate. SHOULD she have been so upset? NO. But I knew this would happen.

Ratrick lost and he knew it. Bad idea, remember? I told you NOT TO DO IT. It wasn't worth it homey, and now you have one angry employee and another one who is crying so much she can't breathe. He needed to retreat, and like a Frenchman, he backed out of the room.

"OK, you two..." If I was writing the situation, he would have thrown down something that exploded and ran out. I closed the door behind him.

She was crying so hard that she couldn't breathe. She was literally choking on her words...I felt like she needed to go to a hospital..."I--I--I--need to go home". This is what you get when you NEVER talk about what's on your mind...NEVER tell people what you want in life. You can't do that. You don't bottle up all your feelings until you are pushed to the point of exploding in an emotional fireball. Talk about things, tell me I'm being an asshole, whatever. Even if I don't change, at least you have the pride of knowing you told me...Jesus Christ.

Yes, I've been in therapy for 15 years. The idea of being crumpled up into an emotional ball is repellent to me. You end up being another loser holding back, choking on your own words, crying in a windowless room with half a desk at a go-nowhere job working for some guy who doesn't care how your weekend went.

Anyway, I calmed the Choker down and she let loose on Ratrick. "how dare he" this and "what an asshole" that. The funny thing is, I felt the same way. Yes, he said what was on my mind, but it wasn't worth it. I tried once before and failed. The job didn't mean enough to me to try again. This wasn't a marriage, there were no long term considerations.

So, oddly, the Choker and I are closer then ever. Sure, it's purely due to mutual hatred of a common foe, but hell, Stalin and Churchill were friends for a while, what about Manson and the Choker? I'm way sexier then either of those two, anyway.

Ratrick pulled me aside the other day and said "let me take you for a ride"...another car-stravaganza. I didn't want to go, but he told me "15 seconds of your time". Those 15 seconds became 30 minutes.

He said "it seems like you and the Choker are banding together against me".
I assured him that wasn't the case, and more importantly (to him, at least)...I wasn't talking about it with management. It was his fuck up, he knew, and he was scared that someone would find out.

He ended our conversation with a lovely little threat; "don't complain about this to management. They told me they wanted to replace you and The Choker because you complain so much". Two hours earlier management told me I was the most important creative person at the company...so Ratrick can suck his lies.

Anyway, I left the car and my phone rang. It was the Choker.

She said "Are You Alone?"
I said "Yes"
"Well, I was calling because I saw Ratrick dragged you into the car again. I thought I could call and you could use it as an excuse to leave"
I smiled and thought "Thanks Ratrick. You might be a huge, loser douche, but you sure know how to make people come together...even if it's because they both hate you with a passion".

I don't think I'll ever have a problem with The Choker again.


POSTSCRIPT: As I mentioned, I quit. Ratrick spent the next month pacing back and forth pondering his reason for working for such a craphole company. In turn, he was fired. Champagne bottles were uncorked and parties were had, but I truly believe that Ratrick was the victim of an unfortunate circumstance: thrown into a job he was entirely unqualified for with crazy people who were more incompetent then he was.

Ain't that America?

I'm sure he's doing better now. I know it must be hard being fired: basically you're told YOU ARE NOT WORTHY...and what more is life then an 80-odd year strech of trying to prove your worth? But I think Ratrick handled it in style. I've never been fired, but I can only imagine what it's like.

As for myself, I tried DISPARATELY to get fired...and nothing worked. Finally I quit, and it was a transplendent feeling. The weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders that day: birds chirped louder, flowers smelled nicer, women presented their vaginas to me, as if to say, "Fine job, Mr. M. You should have vaginas presented to you as a gesture of gratitude".

I cannot imagine anyone being happier then I, at least during the afterglow of quitting. Now, with a financial reality, and the odd fact that I've been offered several high-paying jobs as an internet consultant, which I turned down, the happiness fades into an unpleasant realism, but hey...at least I'm not with Ratrick or the Choker anymore.

As for the Choker, she's still at that internet company. She's stayed there, I believe, because she thinks it will move her career along. And I agree.

She'll be in the latrine in no time...but I do believe that's what she deserves.

Friday, February 01, 2008

Not Working, Day...Uhhh...

Well, here's an interesting one. Well, not actually interesting, more "ha-ha" funny. I'm currently working freelance, and yes, holy steamingly fresh-out-a-dog's-backside CRAP, it's wonderful. No more coming home and complaining about work. No more being at work...complaining about work. No more watching a movie and thinking about complaining about work.

God help me, why does everyone get so caught up with "work". Seriously, 99.9% of people aren't doing what they want to be doing with their lives, yet they get so wrapped up in the day to day stress of their jobs that their hatred of their JOB becomes a hatred of their LIVES. It gets all wrapped up, thrown in a blender, smashed into a pulp and spit out in one big diarrheal splatter. It's a sad, pathetic, numbing life. Much like a career in the entertainment industry.

Not sure what any of that means. It could be that now I am out of the day to day grind, I completely understand what a large bunch of bullshit the day to day grind actually is. All I hear is "I hate this", "I wish I could be doing this", "what are those red blotches on your penis?", yada yada yada. Well, forget about WORK, drop everything and DO WHAT YOU WANT to do in life. You don't need to quit to get there; but figure out the road and begin to walk down it. You'll end up where you want to be...or at least realize you weren't meant to be there in the first place.

Yada Yada Yada. I'll write something more articulate later. This is just a numbing ramble.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Writing this from my iPod, how 2008 is that?

Ok.so I am probably going to quit this week. I have never quit anything before. It is empowering, especially when you've been working at Craphouse central (aka livearsehole), but all the same, it is frightening. What's next? Who's next? If you boil apples in a rum broth, how many episodes of Golden Girls does it take to make you gay? I believe the answer is 3.

I wonder what my next step is. I can either make lots of money at a job I'm not convinced will lead to anything, or sit at home and write...which I'm not convinced will lead to anything. But then again, life does really lead to anything, except death, which isn't as bad as watching 3 episodes of Golden Girls. God, I'm bored. Ipods unite!

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Lifetime at Midnight: A Poem By Me.

blah blah blah
golden girls
blah blah blah
golden girls
fraiser
the nanny
blah blah blah
middleage

Friday, December 07, 2007

lower east side

her LIP lockED knees
kick knocked
CLING CLANG
like a noise i haven't heard since '79
which is strange because i was born
in 1980

she SHOOK like a flutter kick in a puddle pool
face caked
powered traces
lines like scales on her pasty skin
unreal, but mostly crayon
neon moron
more on

moving like a leaf
THUD thudding
clip CLOP
thud THUDDING
clip CLOP

so this was the lower east side on a friday
THIS was the lower east side on a friday

Thursday, November 01, 2007

Life/Fantasy

There's a caustic simplicity to sitting in bed at 11:12 on a Thursday morning, sipping coffee, listening to music and preparing to write.

This was my life from early 2005-mid 2006.

Yes, I longed for a more tangible experience. I wanted to see what I wrote exist in reality, not just the "perhaps one day" life/fantasy that a freelance writer lives.

So I pushed, took meetings, got a job, yada yada yada. Yes, writing and directing has a certain dignified satisfaction, but seriously...there's more out there then *GASP*...internet content. I know that my friends both envy me and laugh at me.

A nice 50/50 split of:
"Wow! He gets to write and direct! I wish I was doing that"
"Wow! He gets to write and direct crap! What a loser!"

So, right now, it's nice. I'm alone at 11:17, sipping coffee, lying in bed, listening to music, preparing to write. I've got about 10k in the bank, and I'm wondering if it's time to whittle that savings down to a nub. Nubby nubby nub.

But, I'm scared...if I take off, can I go back? Will there be anything left for me? I know I could probably write 2 solid scripts in 6 months time...but when that's done? Who's reading them? The magical life/fantasy is a wondrous reverie, but is it a tangible reality?

Well, I've lived the last 26+ years fantasizing about things:

When I was 5, I was a Transformer
When I was 9, I was Spiderman marrying the Black Cat
When I was 11, I was an all-star baseball player
When I was 15, I was a rock star
When I was...well, actually I still want to be a rock star and occasionally have little daydreams about it (what else is a shower for...seriously?)
But, it went from rock star to photographer to, yes, FILMMAKER!

Still wracking my brains trying to remember if "Internet Content Creator" is in there anywhere. Probably not.

So, yeah, I'll go back to my rock n roll fantasy and live my Internet reality. But there's going to be a time soon when I'll be in my bed at 11:24 writing something I care about.

It's just a fantasy now.

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Pleasant Glibitries

I remember a time when I used to update this page semi-frequently. Much like the Sun to the Earth, this blog shone strong and illuminated the dark, pointless world with its glib pleasantries and pleasant glib...itries.

OK, so I'm vaguely embarrassed about the current state of my life, otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here typing these words at 3:13am. I almost typed "on a school night" because that's how pathetically mundane my day-to-day life has become.

One day I will break out of this drab rut and settle into a perfectly nice rut. Life is a series of ruts; you just have to make sure that you don't fall into one for too long. Some call me a pessimist, but that just means I'm a realist with poor tact.

So, here I sit...older, slightly graying and awaiting the day where my hairline recedes into something resembling a bird's nest. Until then I shall endeavor to update this little shining beacon more often. It's easier then actually doing anything difficult, like working or maintaining basic human relationships.