I just started in on it, the new “50 Shades of Grey” (or, fi were so inclined, the next Harry Potter, but I prefer to live in this world or real life realized in an uncommon way. We owe ourselves that much.
THe world is a mess, it seems to maintain the quotient very amply from day to day. Whether it’s chemical gas used on your fellow country men (never really said the reason why), or a woman who dies driving her car thru the WHite house gates and someone had a gun — and a kid in the car. Nice. And that again was–for what? To protest our completely idiotic government? I am surprised (and I’d like to say appalled but I don’t have the energy for that as I once did) at how much I’ve given up the fight — the quest to do the the right thing, to make it right, to make the thought pattern of the citizenry, at least the ones around me, something that was informed and well-reasoned. Now, I barely catch the headlines. The Syrian situation is the most troubling as are a million others I don’t know about but if I did I would probably be sick to my stomach. Not that I couldn’t do the torture the way they show in “Zero Dark Thirty” as a job. I’d just be better suited to some other form of distraction.
THe old Baudelaire version, wandering around the streets of the world in a French poet’s drunken squaller and pure appreciation for the messiness that is life. That is where and when in history a man was fee to spend his pay on book and prostitutes and paint and muse about the fall of civilization as we know it, which is a complete and utterly ongoing scenario, so you really can’t go wrong with the Henry Miller-Bukowski-Baudelaire self-indulgence of writing about the ghetto, where you live.
THAT is NOT THIS.
Last week, I started with the notion of an erotic novella following — oh I don’t really know if there was a unified notion more of a sense of a character (half amalgamation of me half imaginary and then there’s a blend that can’t be explained, it’s just this sense of who you might be if you were in this book–or telling a version of the world that is entertaining and worth the time you expect your readers to take to actually get into your universe of ideas.
So it’s 50 Shades of Grey my way, yes with Frank Sinatra singing the cue. It’s about a woman wot start off with and she has a friend who is in trouble and his best friend is also MIA but someone who she can’t be around or she just wants to disrobe (these guys are few and far between and should be avoided at all costs if you are trying to ‘lead a normal life’ in any sense of the word.)
Let it be known (at least to the one more disciplined that the one sitting here right now) that BIXBY HO definitely needs to be a character name. Similar to someone for real so maybe they’ll never read the book.
I will transcribe I suppose the story. It’s a woman who has been with these two men over the past — an indefinite number is best in these cases–and has been meandering on her way to some sort of quiet recognition before she hits old age. This is about the idea of why we (MILFS if I had any kids I suppose would be the category, which makes me more like a whore in the eyes of those who do bad things to MILFS, which sound so harmless and innocent, with their stockings-garter-little lock and key games.
No, this is more straight up mid-life crisis sex although I have just downloaded 50 shades on my iPhone even tho stephen kings says it’s really not porn for soccermoms, it’s [insert basic girl wants approval of boy storyline or girl makes boy better which was his comment on Twiglight].
ALl I know is I’m not where I want to be. Watching 6 episodes (I think it was 6 could have been less) of “Breaking Bad” is too much to start your day after being up all night in that creative mode of here goes, in need of a routine coming up for my sanity, my body (no post pie guts, please) and my ‘future’ which I want to stay focused on and not fall into whatever it is that has gotten me before.
Transcription next. She’s looking for Ben who’s in trouble. I think I had him involved with ‘the drug trade’ and his sexual deviance involves twins who have a series of sex ranches around the west. Still working on that concept but basically you find the camp that suits you and go there and get over your current sexual hang-ups, at least for the next quarter. You can have perfect, pleasing, mutually beneficial sexual encounters if you go thru their seminars and workshops (which aren’t a scam, and in fact, somehow, the whole thing works quite brilliantly but you have to be ‘assigned’ by the twins — you can’t just pick. You’re libel to hurt yourself. GO shopping a little out of your league (ha, not me! what I don’t have in physical attributes, I more than make up for — but do I need to advertise that? Not so much).
Anyway, I have to read 50 shades and find out what all the hoopla is about. Me, I’m just looking for a way to take what I do (storytelling in this manner is not sustainable for the rest of my life, and I can assume that getting jobs in the same way won’t be an option once I am a 50-something bonehead producer).
I want to direct, have several shows in place, have a creative team. I know I can do it, finally. In terms of my talent, acquired skill, focus, ability to create successful series. Just need to translate that. Just need to take everything I’ve learned, every thing that has nearly destroyed me by this chosen profession and use it to pay for my retirement, which for me means working until I die, which means writing.
SO that’s the plan but it can so easily be derailed, as we all know for last Thursday’s lecture on How I Lose Everything & You can Too.
I’d love a tenured post teaching media studies (an amalgamation of my brilliant-self-formed ideas that pay homage to no particular school of thought) at the likes of The New School with a straight up pop culture anthropology of pop type class (anthro of the western idea) and a make 2 films section where in the middle we take a break and get all intense and make a short film about what is happening RIGHT NOW.
Black and white with silent sections, etc.
THe second film would come much later and would be like their ‘what I did this summer” project set to Aronofsky madness.
THen the rest of the beeker tubes in the lab would be dissertations on pop culture. Why a woman drove into the the gates of the white house and died — with a kid in the car. What madness is that? Syria — chemical warfare is use exactly when? In the minds of those who think it’s the thing to be done–what is it about that particular method of killing that makes it alright for them to pursue as a policy.
Oh the Kurds, they aren’t like us, see them lying dead in National Geographic magazine. They just look like they’re sleeping.
What subterfuge becomes acceptable? What exactly is the catalyst for a power begets power obsession at its cusp?
These things and more I may explore or I may not, I am not sure yet. I just started writing, I think I may have gotten 4 entries on the train. Of the new story. The Portal Project.
I said do your best to destroy me / I said I’ve been to hell and back so many times, you kind of bore me — Ray Lamontagne
If so, my alter ego is a quasi-Breaking Bad (not that bad but that much weird subculture mishap leading to mishap, high school teacher type suddenly in a world I was never a part of growing up in ruralese and never having lived that close to skid row)– it’s about a crazy triangle (Of course) and she must find a not-your-average criminal associate before…. [STILL BEING DETERMINED]
AND HES TAKEN UP WITH THESE TWINS — the hot chicks with ranches in LA, Vegas and Tahoe. They do things that are supposed to be titillating but you still don’t want to hear about them all the time. It’s definitely about the timing.
Like the dude on the train in Japan or Europe (you pick) who has to have his :30 clip of porn for the train ride — as I was doing quality control on that kind of content, I thought, who would view that? Now I find myself (as part of this mid-life crisis which is the impetus for the book which is about sex and a woman roughly my age) utilizing similar tools (a tumblr blog that is for threesomes only, some select bad porn videos and a little inspiration) for very brief interludes (on occasion). That and the longer, planned out sessions, where Isabella helps Jamie and everybody feels better in the end. I know that this is my version of a midlife crisis. I think about sex and threesomes somewhat obsessively at times these days (It goes thru phases–when I first get back to LA, it’s porn and glass toy for about a week it seems) and I want a 2-door fast car. I’m looking at a blue mercedes, used. I want to pay mostly cast and just enough to re-est credit, it’s like I’ve been in prison thanks to the ‘film industry’—my financial woes all begin and end here.
As Ray Lamontagne sings: Well, I looked my demons in the eyes
laid bare my chest, said “Do your best, destroy me.
You see, I’ve been to hell and back so many times,
I must admit you kind of bore me.”