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Halle Berry explains, to the N.Y. Daily News, why she signed to do "X-Men 3": "I learned a long time ago that you have to be part of the commercial life of this business if you want a long career. And to be able to do the art movies, the movies from the heart." Translation: "Nice check!" (that's the nice version; I'm not gonna post how this comment and Ms. Berry herself really make me feel)
The bachelor camping trip was fun, but kinda uneventful. Six-seven guys sitting around a campsite for three days, drinking beers, smoking pot, grilling food, and occasionally going out to fail to catch fish. Edd (my brother)'s friends are good guys, but for the most part these just weren't my peeps. I spent the vast majority of this time relegated in the corner, reading Chuck Palahniuk's "Stranger than Fiction" (good stuff, but kinda sub-Hunter Thompson, if you know what I mean) and scribbling away at my notebook.
At any free moments, I am working on writing any of the following: my Best Man speech, Tammy remembrances for THE HEFNER MONOLOGUES comic that I haven't worked on in months, Johnny Go and Bub dialog scenes, and stream of consciousness Misty ramblings that were set on by my flight. Man, having a stop over in Winsconsin really messed me up for no good reason. Just the idea that I was that much closer to her set me off, and I started to get hit by serious nostalgia and longing for the first time in a month. Not even the partying and revelry of our sausagefest in the woods could deter me this time; I really fucking miss her again. It'll pass, it'll pass. But when you're stuck in limited places like airplanes or the woods or your brother's house, the avenues for distraction are not many. No, bucko, you're stuck with your thoughts and you gotta deal with 'em. So while I was on the plane I just wrote, wrote about her in stream of consciousness form and y'know, some of it ain't half bad. I may post some of it up here if I'm moved to do so, provided that there even is any interest for it. Don't worry, I'll cut-tag.
Meantime, while I was at the airport for my stop-over I distracted myself by flirting with a sweet, attractive, vapid blonde girl playing Lord of the Rings pinball at the arcade. This pretty scrubbed blonde was on her way from NYC where she say several shows and was wearing a Chicago shirt. We proceeded to talk about Chicago for awhile but, y'know, in the manliest way possible of course. Learning from past mistakes, I really upped the flirting this time and the very clear signals, and based on the way she played with her hair and nibbled on her fingers while she looked at me, I think I was successful enough. She was on her way back home to San Francisco, so we said our goodbyes and our names (hers was Jen. Of course). It was just a flirt, not going anywhere, and certainly not with the fact that I pretty much kinda sorta yeah I think it counts have a new girlfriend, Kristen, the geek2geek girl.
I hesitate to go too much into that right now till our own relationship develops a bit more. In the meantime I'm trying trying not to overthink, and I'm failing. I think too much. I know it's better than not thinking enough, but my brain is never a quiet place. No, I just wanted to flirt to get my mind offa Misty, which worked for a total of 2 seconds I think. Then Cinnabon came in to assist my angst with fresh, right-outta-the-oven cinnabons all gooey and warm and sweet and nonjudgemental. I don't care if I'm spilling out over my jeans, that was a damn tasty bun right there.
Call me crazy, but I truly, honestly think if only I had a piano or an electric keyboard, I bet I could teach myself how to play. Not concert level, no, but I bet enough to play and write songs. I've always had an above-average ear for music. I bet I really could. I bet I'd have better luck with it than I had with trumpet or guitar. Misty once said I should have learned to play guitar, that girls would be all over me then. My response was, "yeah, but not the right girls." Piano men don't exactly rake in the chicks, I suppose, but then, that's not why I wanna do this. And if it doesn't happen, hey, it's not as if I have a lack of side projects to work on.
The bachelor camping trip was fun, but kinda uneventful. Six-seven guys sitting around a campsite for three days, drinking beers, smoking pot, grilling food, and occasionally going out to fail to catch fish. Edd (my brother)'s friends are good guys, but for the most part these just weren't my peeps. I spent the vast majority of this time relegated in the corner, reading Chuck Palahniuk's "Stranger than Fiction" (good stuff, but kinda sub-Hunter Thompson, if you know what I mean) and scribbling away at my notebook.
At any free moments, I am working on writing any of the following: my Best Man speech, Tammy remembrances for THE HEFNER MONOLOGUES comic that I haven't worked on in months, Johnny Go and Bub dialog scenes, and stream of consciousness Misty ramblings that were set on by my flight. Man, having a stop over in Winsconsin really messed me up for no good reason. Just the idea that I was that much closer to her set me off, and I started to get hit by serious nostalgia and longing for the first time in a month. Not even the partying and revelry of our sausagefest in the woods could deter me this time; I really fucking miss her again. It'll pass, it'll pass. But when you're stuck in limited places like airplanes or the woods or your brother's house, the avenues for distraction are not many. No, bucko, you're stuck with your thoughts and you gotta deal with 'em. So while I was on the plane I just wrote, wrote about her in stream of consciousness form and y'know, some of it ain't half bad. I may post some of it up here if I'm moved to do so, provided that there even is any interest for it. Don't worry, I'll cut-tag.
Meantime, while I was at the airport for my stop-over I distracted myself by flirting with a sweet, attractive, vapid blonde girl playing Lord of the Rings pinball at the arcade. This pretty scrubbed blonde was on her way from NYC where she say several shows and was wearing a Chicago shirt. We proceeded to talk about Chicago for awhile but, y'know, in the manliest way possible of course. Learning from past mistakes, I really upped the flirting this time and the very clear signals, and based on the way she played with her hair and nibbled on her fingers while she looked at me, I think I was successful enough. She was on her way back home to San Francisco, so we said our goodbyes and our names (hers was Jen. Of course). It was just a flirt, not going anywhere, and certainly not with the fact that I pretty much kinda sorta yeah I think it counts have a new girlfriend, Kristen, the geek2geek girl.
I hesitate to go too much into that right now till our own relationship develops a bit more. In the meantime I'm trying trying not to overthink, and I'm failing. I think too much. I know it's better than not thinking enough, but my brain is never a quiet place. No, I just wanted to flirt to get my mind offa Misty, which worked for a total of 2 seconds I think. Then Cinnabon came in to assist my angst with fresh, right-outta-the-oven cinnabons all gooey and warm and sweet and nonjudgemental. I don't care if I'm spilling out over my jeans, that was a damn tasty bun right there.
Call me crazy, but I truly, honestly think if only I had a piano or an electric keyboard, I bet I could teach myself how to play. Not concert level, no, but I bet enough to play and write songs. I've always had an above-average ear for music. I bet I really could. I bet I'd have better luck with it than I had with trumpet or guitar. Misty once said I should have learned to play guitar, that girls would be all over me then. My response was, "yeah, but not the right girls." Piano men don't exactly rake in the chicks, I suppose, but then, that's not why I wanna do this. And if it doesn't happen, hey, it's not as if I have a lack of side projects to work on.
