Body Consultant

I like to jot down notes in my notebook. Sometimes I go back and check out what I've written just to see if I stumble upon anything that's actually good. Here's an entry from sometime in March of 2013. It's quite the hidden gem.

The Body Consultant:

You can't trust someone who measures a space by how many bodies he can fit into it. I bet every mob has a guy that's in charge of such matters--probably called the Body Consultant. "With a trunk this size, you can fit 5 average sized people & one tall midget, easy." "You can fit 2 average sized people in the fridge and one fat midget in the freezer." "You can fit 15 Guatamalean midgets in here."

This just in: Two average sized guys got caught smuggling in 15 Guatamalean midgets in a 1990 Honda Civic Hatchback. The Guatamalean midgets were smuggling in fruit stuffed with cocaine....Actually you know what? It turns out they're not midgets. They're just 15 average sized Guatamaleans. They're naturally tiny people.

Reel Life: Finding The Door

As an avid, yet amateur writer, it's easy to get caught up in the excitement of my own inspiring reverie. However, I deem my efforts to inspire people in the business quite trying. Professors, students and even a homeless man on the corner offered a sense of optimism. The homeless man, a beacon of a worst case scenario, kept his wisdom concealed but wore his regret on his face. He was and is a simple yet complex form of inspiration. I don't know him, but I would bet all of my grandmother's wisdom that he in fact has a story to tell. If "published" work and recognition are forms of currency then consider me the homeless guy on the corner. Because my grandmother's imparted wisdom and a bunch of untold stories are all I have left. This is in no way a "woe is me" tale of battered ambition, but a realistic scope of the industry from where I stand--the heart of South Jersey.
               College offered a great deal of empowerment. Professors instilled in me the proper faith needed to keep a dream alive, but also encouraged the fortitude to keep a thick hide for those bitter seasons of cold rejection. They served up a glass half full of aged aspirations. And believe you me--I drank it down because college students love free things that free their inhibitions. Soon I was drinking straight from the bottle. Once I finished the pilot to my sitcom, I took the proper steps to get it out there. The steps entailed writing query letters and proposing them to literary agencies in the hopes of finding representation. I sent out at least 25 query letters to agencies ranging from the cream of the crop to agencies that had lesser cliental. I patiently awaited a response, anything to show that I touched base with someone or something. Overall I received two responses. One came in the form of a courtesy email which basically stated that they didn't deal with screenplays and things of that nature. The other response came four months later in the form of a professional letter on a company letterhead. It stated that, because of copyright issues, they were unable to view my proposal. And if I happened to see anything on television similar to my idea, it would be just a coincidence. In a delusional state of mind I took comfort in knowing that my query didn't get lost in the mail and I'd be so lucky if this agency stole my idea. I haven't written a query since. After researching the formalities of such proposals on the internet, I became inundated with the realities of the business. It turns out one should acquire a manager before proposing anything to agencies. Whether my findings were fact or fiction, I was left baffled like the first time I discovered a catch-22. By the time graduation came, I felt like I had so much to learn. I guess that's why so many people go to graduate school. But, for someone who was already sixty grand in the hole, I wasn't about to ante up into the American dream pot. So, I took my B.A. and called it a day.
               Moving forward, I put my work on a shelf both literally and figuratively. This was my stage of trying to get my foot in the proverbial door--somewhere, anywhere that involved television or film. I've always been on the path of learning. And once I learned that there was a new film studio in Pennsylvania called Sun Center Studios, I knew I had to find the door. I contacted the president of the company to inquire about employment. I sort of figured that he wouldn't get back to me. It turns out, I figured right. So, I browsed the Sun Center Studios web site and made a stunning revelation--like most studios, this studio offers tours. I contacted the president, inquiring about tours this time. Surprisingly, he replied, quickly I might add. He asked me to state the purpose of the tour. I told him that I am a writer, director and I would love to use the facility in the future. Well, I guess he'll get back to me when the future arrives. Until then maybe I'll sneak into Sun Center Studios, pose as a custodian, find a dry erase board, write out a script and wait for someone to discover my genius (Mostly joking, partially sarcastic).
               People always talk about finding that one connection, that one in. I thought Curt was going to be my connection. A co-worker of mine, a title searcher, happened to golf with this man named Curt who is a writer/director/producer. Next thing you know I had a meeting scheduled with Curt at his office in New Jersey. He also has an office in L.A., but no big deal. I knew going into it that this wasn't a business meeting, however a sit down with a seasoned mover and shaker of the industry. Therefore, I needed to conjure up some intelligent and important questions like, “What are the intelligent and important moves I need to be making?” However, he answered all of my questions in one sentence that tortures me every time I hear it which was, “You need to move out to L.A.” Unlike most like-minded people, I don't have the luxury of making that move. Adulthood and local responsibility take top priority. From what I'm told, the chances of me getting into the film industry if I move out to L.A. are pretty good. But, I feel like there are a lot of opportunities in Philadelphia and the surrounding area. Well, there was at least one.
               I had a chance to work as a P.A. on a local feature film. I would have had the opportunity to rub elbows with the likes of Cory Monteith and David Morse. Talk about stellar acquaintances, especially for my first feature length film. Unfortunately, I made one huge mistake, perhaps the most invaluable lesson yet. When the director's assistant called me and asked if I was available to work on the film, I hesitated. First of all I was flabbergasted by the fact that I was even called upon. My responsibility instincts kicked in and I tried bargaining with the woman, proposing something like, “Would I be able to work half of the shooting schedule?” This was a big no-no. The reason I suggested half of the shooting schedule was because I already had a full time job (clerk typist, mind you) and I'd have to clear it with my employer. I could have used two weeks' vacation. However, the entire shoot was four weeks. The woman seemed to be receptive to the idea and said she would get back to me. Translation: We'll find someone else who will work the entire shoot (someone less complicated). If there is anything that I learned from this experience it is to just say yes and adjust your schedule accordingly. Make it happen. There's no time for maybes. Next time my answer will be, “Yes, yes, a million times yes.”
               I picked up my first issue of IndieSlate about ten years ago--before I started film school. An article about story structure caught my eye and I've held onto it ever since. I thought about that article recently and it has inspired me to change my aspiration lens from a phantasmal dream to a celluloid reality. My focus now is on a short independent film which I'm currently writing. Like the essence of story structure, I will see it through from start to finish, hoping to bring it to full fruition. This is the direction that I'm going in right now. Perhaps it's the direction I should have been going all along.

Silver Screen Reflections: What's Reel?

        As viewers, we idealize the situations, emotions, and resolutions found in motion pictures. The feel good qualities in such films can cause cinematic swooning—a term that I think I just made up which is the heart warming sensation induced by charming cinematic moments. Because we've been predisposed to these strategically placed feel good moments, we subconsciously accept and expect a “standard” development to the story. Therefore we’re submissive to the same old soundtrack and choreography (so to speak) found on the silver screen--which reflects our reality. Many people feel that life imitates art. I agree, but not completely. Life and art have been performing an intricate dance together for quite some time—all the while interchanging the lead every so often. Film is a medium that’s influenced by life. However, life is very much influenced by film due to escapism. Sometimes the vestige of our celluloid dreams transfers to our reality and we long for those movie moments. We will never live the lives of our favorite characters. However, we can learn from their stories and what makes them so remarkable.
  Most films are written with a particular formula in mind which is called the Three Act Structure.  It is comprised of seven elements: the Inciting Incident, Plot Point 1, the First Culmination, the Midpoint, Plot Point 2, the Climax, and the Denouement. Most days in our everyday lives abide by a similar structure. It's similar because it's predictable not because we always have plot points throughout our day. For instance, we are familiar with today because it happened yesterday, much like we're familiar with most films because we've seen other versions of them. Great films and terrible films follow the same structure. However, what sets great films apart is the content, most notably the details and the moments. Details can be the smallest element in a story, but they can have the most profound impact on an audience. A simple melody played on a ukulele could accompany a simple piece of dialogue. Two characters could be exchanging passionate looks, which consequently signals a pivotal moment. It’s these “film imitating life moments" which make us wish life would imitate film. It seems like an impossibility. However, theoretically it should be feasible because if film is an image in the mirror, life is the muse standing in front of the mirror. Since we idealize these projections, they somehow become more real which inevitably amounts to an unrealistic expectation.
  It's the super focused eye for detail used in film which captivates us. Details such as proficient lighting, stimulating movement, insightful pauses, incendiary musical scores, the sound of silence, and last but not least, special effects. Unfortunately, for the most part, we seem to miss out on these things in real life. I haven't had the pleasure of growing up with the sound of a gradus symphony being played in my honor. And I doubt you have either. Unless you're listening to the classical station all day everyday, then maybe there's a slight chance that a cinematic-like score could sync up to a euphoric moment. But, you can't possibly fit all of these cinematic elements into your day without making it feel phony. I digress.
There are different details and moments that we can focus on in our everyday lives. Very seldom do motion pictures illuminate something unsuspected that's extraordinarily moving. If our mundane lives could speak, they would say something similar about themselves. Relatable things such as life lessons, especially that of our peers, are the details we often overlook. It is not unusual to be mindful of our own minds. However, I think we should be the audience of our surroundings, accentuate the details in life, and lose ourselves in the moment--even if it's a precarious one. Find the time to let alternate perspectives inspire you. Let celluloid dreams be dreams and an exciting, unsuspected reality be your future.

Shit Revisited

        I can deal with someone calling me out for being a liar. I can deal with someone calling me out for being a sack of shit, on the rare chance that I am a sack of shit. However, I can't handle someone calling me a lying sack of shit. It's a double entendre. A double insult if you will, which doesn't sit well with me. It's like killing one bird with two stones--brutally excessive and covertly humorous. Actually, it's something of a quadruple entendre if there's such thing. It's quite befuddling. Let me break it down for you.

Lying sack of shit #1:
Dirty, rotten liar. This is the most obvious translation. Insulting? Yes. But it gets worse.

Lying sack of shit #2:
Lazy sack of excrement. So, basically, now I'm a "lying" sack of shit, which means I'm lounging around all of the time just stinking up the joint. It doesn't matter what kind of shit, because let's face it all shit stinks. So, in the end I'm a lazy sack of excrement.

Lying sack of shit #3
Mythical talking sack of shit that's very dishonest. This is what I call Absurdist Literal Expressionism. This one basically suggests that I'm a sack of shit that has the capability of telling fibs which means I can talk--mostly out of my ass. This sends me mixed feelings like, "This isn't possible. Now you're just insulting my intelligence, but tickling my fancy all at once. I always wanted to be a mythical creature. Hmm. Wait! This is ridiculous!"

Lying sack of shit #4
Possibly the worst of the four. This is where all four sides of the quadruple entendre dice are viewed. In this instance I'm a lazy, smelly, mythical sack of shit that likes telling fibs. Shit just got real...or really unreal.

        In a sense, there's always another insult within an insult, making it somewhat sophisticated in one respect and absolutely moronic in another respect. I'll choose to ignore the latter.

Writer's Quarrel

I feel like the "simple life" is greatly underrated. I can't help but wonder how much more I would get done in a day if I didn't waste my time focusing on the wrong things. There are too many distractions, even in this quiet town. It's frustrating for a writer. I can easily get side tracked if there is a television on in the room (even muted), my phone starts ringing, or if I have the sudden urge to tweet some meaningless piece of dialogue that I overheard in the grocery store today. I should be contributing to a real piece of work and hone in on my craft.

And there I go, searching for an alternate word in the online thesaurus because I don't want to use the same word again. However, I accidentally click on the tab for Twitter. By doing so I illuminate the true redundancy in my life which encompasses the technology that we as humans are ever so magnetized to. This technology is wrongfully associated with our leisure time and the "simple life." As we know the "simple life" isn't all that simple. But, technology definitely makes it easier. Easy living. Simple life. They sound pretty similar. However, we know damn well how easily technology can complicate our lives. I mean, shit, we survive on our Keurig coffee machines and GPS units. If you remove these things, we may never find our way to work. It's a sad cup of coffee; half empty. But, hey, it holds some truth.

I feel like I need to lock myself in an empty room with pencils and paper and just write. No. That makes me sound annoyingly proud and pretentious. So, scratch that. I'll lock myself in a room with a laptop. However, this laptop will only have writing software and that is it. But, you know what? It's hard to find laptops like that these days. They always want to fill it with junk and other things that take up space until you have 73 icons on your desktop. 

Back to basics. That's all I'm trying to say. Let me find inspiration in the wind, starry nights, and my weird neighbors again. And may I shy away from the temptations (not the Motown group, which I love) of day time television, the entangling web of sites on the...interweb, and all of the other distractions found in our lives.

Now quick, let me post this on my blog and tweet it to my 46 followers. Oh wow, what's this? A magazine which showcases the Bachelor, which I have zero interest in. However, there's a slew of attractive women hanging around him. What do you know? Sex does sell.

Third of a Life Crisis

     Things that are overrated: “stable” jobs, good benefits (a.k.a. bennies), and pension plans. It’s interesting. A stable job, which you hate, seems to make you quite the opposite: something like umm, unstable. This is due to the monotony that dictates your existence. Your passion lies dormant. By the end of the day your brain rests, smoking on a long Virginia Slim, as you sit and stare at a wall. The only thing you manage to mutter is, “Hmm. That sure is a wall.” Your passion, like an old friend says, “Hey man. Remember me? So…what’s new?”

     Benefits are actually really important. So, I can’t say with 100% conviction that benefits are overrated. This is one of the anchors of any job. Benefits alone can be the deciding factor when it comes to debating your next move. One thing is for sure though--the moment you decide to take a chance on your passion and forget about your great benefits is when life will say, “Hey, look out for…Too late. That sure looked painful. I hope you have good insurance.”

     A pension plan seems like a great, practical…thing. But, really, the only thing you’re planning on is living to see your pension. You might have been great at dodge ball in elementary school and maybe you still have moves like Jagger. However, sometimes you just can’t dodge cancer, heart disease, and that demon Mack truck heading your way. So, chances are this American "ideal" probably won't work for you. Sorry to sound so bitter. But, life is like that bitch in The Rolling Stones song, "She's So Cold"...it's so cold.

     In conclusion, I probably shouldn't complain. But, what the hell, everybody else does. There's a time and a place to grow some balls. Usually that's in your mother's womb. In my case, it's right now...probably not though. I'm my worst enemy, my worst critic, and my worst nightmare--not exactly in that order. I guess I'll keep on keep keepin' on, doing what I'ma gonna do. Now I'm just rambling. 

     I'm going to write a second conclusion like a hobbit would eat a second breakfast. In conclusion, I'm just going to grab life by the...not balls because that's weird...not boobs because that's perverted. So, there will be no grabbing whatsoever.  Instead I will...eventually take a chance...and maybe get life into a headlock.

I Done Got Showered

A surprise indeed.