Monday, November 17, 2003
The character pages are finally up.
At least Doug's and Nettie's are - in the pulldown menu labeled "The Story" on the main page. More to come later.
I'm also trying to find the time to turn my still gallery into an actual "gallery". A pleasant place to wander through and spend a few afternoon hours. Sit on the requisite miserably uncomfortable marble benches. Complain that you could've taken that photo just as good. Comment on that stale museum smell. Bring your new girlfriend, so she thinks you're cultured.
Right now it's more like a department store window.
Anyway, that's on the horizon as well as fixing a few glitches (like the fact that you can't access the "newsletter" page from the home page). The capybaras are hard at work. Stay tuned.
At least Doug's and Nettie's are - in the pulldown menu labeled "The Story" on the main page. More to come later.
I'm also trying to find the time to turn my still gallery into an actual "gallery". A pleasant place to wander through and spend a few afternoon hours. Sit on the requisite miserably uncomfortable marble benches. Complain that you could've taken that photo just as good. Comment on that stale museum smell. Bring your new girlfriend, so she thinks you're cultured.
Right now it's more like a department store window.
Anyway, that's on the horizon as well as fixing a few glitches (like the fact that you can't access the "newsletter" page from the home page). The capybaras are hard at work. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, November 12, 2003
Last night I experienced an omen.
I was walking my dog Hoover on a pleasantly cool, balmy evening, with a rare bit of moisture in the LA air. Hoover is a Pomeranian mix. “It’s a Pomeranian, Dude! The fucking dog has fucking papers!” (Only their dog was clearly not a Pomeranian and looked nothing like one – a rare lack of attention to detail for a Coen Brothers film.) My dog is a mutt, and looks like a cross between a Pomeranian and a fox. But, you know, he probably isn’t.
So we decided that it was such a nice evening we’d go on an extra long walk, and we got almost to the absolute midpoint, the furthest distance that we travel from my apartment, when the moisture in the air made its purpose known. I felt the first drop, and as I held out my open palm (the universal gesture acknowledged the world over as the most effective and precise method of determining whether it’s currently raining), the second drop hit it dead center. I could tell right away that this was not a light drizzle. It had the force of a rain drop that informs you within about sixty seconds there will be a torrential downpour.
So I tugged meaningfully on Hoover’s leash and tried to pick up the speed. We trotted about twenty feet and I could feel the rain seriously gaining momentum. And in that quiet moment of dread or awe right before the cacophonous sound of everything being pelted from above, I passed an umbrella.
Sitting in the grass. Open. Waiting. I swept it up over my head just as the sky opened and the cacophony began, and for a brief moment I knew what if feels like to be a Looney Tunes character, with the ability to pull whatever impossibly large device you might need out of your back pocket.
It was amazing. I pulled Hoover close to my side and we casually wandered home, enjoying the rain. When I got home I found that the umbrella wouldn’t close, which may be why it was abandoned in the first place, and it seemed that the only right thing to do was pass it on. I walked back out to the street and waited for the next person caught off guard by the weather, as I was, to pass by. But the streets were empty. Apparently everyone knew but me that this was coming. I waited a moment or two more, until I began to feel stupid standing there, and then I gently tossed the umbrella to the ground exactly as I had found it, ready for the next traveler in need.
When I left for work this morning the sun was shining brightly, and the umbrella still sat in the grass outside my apartment building. So much for “Pay It Forward”.
Anyway, many people would view this miraculous coincidence as a sign. The incredible odds that I would pass an umbrella right at the moment I needed it - there was a window of about twelve seconds for that to happen - seems like a coincidence of note. It takes luck of that nature to sell an independent film into distribution, as well. So maybe, as of last night, that luck is now in my favor.
Of course, it’s possible that this was my one moment of amazing luck, of once-in-a-lifetime coincidence, of divine intervention. And it was used on an umbrella. I mean, I hope that the Fates realize I’d much rather be a wet guy with a distribution deal.
I will choose to view it as a good omen. I believe that our three-fire-alarm screenings are in the past, and the future is at a theatre or video store near you.
If you forward this email to 10 people then your WISH will be granted. One woman who forwarded it made a MILLION dollars when buried treasure was discovered in her backyard. But if you DO NOT forward it, you will experience BAD LUCK for nine years.
I was walking my dog Hoover on a pleasantly cool, balmy evening, with a rare bit of moisture in the LA air. Hoover is a Pomeranian mix. “It’s a Pomeranian, Dude! The fucking dog has fucking papers!” (Only their dog was clearly not a Pomeranian and looked nothing like one – a rare lack of attention to detail for a Coen Brothers film.) My dog is a mutt, and looks like a cross between a Pomeranian and a fox. But, you know, he probably isn’t.
So we decided that it was such a nice evening we’d go on an extra long walk, and we got almost to the absolute midpoint, the furthest distance that we travel from my apartment, when the moisture in the air made its purpose known. I felt the first drop, and as I held out my open palm (the universal gesture acknowledged the world over as the most effective and precise method of determining whether it’s currently raining), the second drop hit it dead center. I could tell right away that this was not a light drizzle. It had the force of a rain drop that informs you within about sixty seconds there will be a torrential downpour.
So I tugged meaningfully on Hoover’s leash and tried to pick up the speed. We trotted about twenty feet and I could feel the rain seriously gaining momentum. And in that quiet moment of dread or awe right before the cacophonous sound of everything being pelted from above, I passed an umbrella.
Sitting in the grass. Open. Waiting. I swept it up over my head just as the sky opened and the cacophony began, and for a brief moment I knew what if feels like to be a Looney Tunes character, with the ability to pull whatever impossibly large device you might need out of your back pocket.
It was amazing. I pulled Hoover close to my side and we casually wandered home, enjoying the rain. When I got home I found that the umbrella wouldn’t close, which may be why it was abandoned in the first place, and it seemed that the only right thing to do was pass it on. I walked back out to the street and waited for the next person caught off guard by the weather, as I was, to pass by. But the streets were empty. Apparently everyone knew but me that this was coming. I waited a moment or two more, until I began to feel stupid standing there, and then I gently tossed the umbrella to the ground exactly as I had found it, ready for the next traveler in need.
When I left for work this morning the sun was shining brightly, and the umbrella still sat in the grass outside my apartment building. So much for “Pay It Forward”.
Anyway, many people would view this miraculous coincidence as a sign. The incredible odds that I would pass an umbrella right at the moment I needed it - there was a window of about twelve seconds for that to happen - seems like a coincidence of note. It takes luck of that nature to sell an independent film into distribution, as well. So maybe, as of last night, that luck is now in my favor.
Of course, it’s possible that this was my one moment of amazing luck, of once-in-a-lifetime coincidence, of divine intervention. And it was used on an umbrella. I mean, I hope that the Fates realize I’d much rather be a wet guy with a distribution deal.
I will choose to view it as a good omen. I believe that our three-fire-alarm screenings are in the past, and the future is at a theatre or video store near you.
If you forward this email to 10 people then your WISH will be granted. One woman who forwarded it made a MILLION dollars when buried treasure was discovered in her backyard. But if you DO NOT forward it, you will experience BAD LUCK for nine years.
