Oh, so Saturday night I opted to lie on my new couch learning lines and drinking beer all night after getting off set. I ordered chinese food and really barely moved. And just when I settled to learn lines, a show came on MTV called Fear. Fear is basically The Blair Witch Project mixed with The Real World or Road Rules. This was the first in the sporadic series and it involved six kids spending a few nights totally alone in an old prison in Virginia, long rumored to be haunted. The kids were all given a camera to hold and a camera mounted on a vest and pointed towards their faces. (Those cameras, what they use in Pi, among other things, give a really creepy effect as the background moves but the subject is totally stationary.) They then had to do things like spend 15 minutes alone in the electric chair room or the infirmary. Two of the girls quickly flipped out and left in the morning. The prison was outfitted with infrared cameras so you could see them, what's ahead of them, and their close-up faces. The kids were not annoying, as they can be in these shows, as we all know. There was only a bit of cheesiness. Basically, it was incredibly effective and fucking scary. The notion of sitting in "The Hole" alone for 15 minutes, turning off all lights, and listening to an electric "ghost-detecting" meter beeping faster and faster gives me shivers. Indeed, the Barenaked Ladies singer-looking guy who had to do that particular mission was crying as he couldn't bring himself to do it. He finally did, singing the whole time to keep himself from freaking out. I can't form thoughts too well on this, I'm sorry. It was just very well done. I hate these Reality shows for what they represent to the industry, but Fear is good, man. And don't worry: it's MTV, so they'll be replaying it constantly.

I saw Almost Famous last night. Long story short, I was disappointed. I certainly think it's a very good movie, it just didn't live up to the hype I'd heard about it. Mostly for me, it comes down to plot problems. I just don't think the highs were high enough, or the lows low enough. It was also very choppy. The cast was quite good, with the exception of Kate Hudson. She was fine and luminescent blah blah blah, but I wish Sarah Polley had not had to drop out. For me the highlight of the movie was Francis McDormand; every moment she's on screen is brilliant. She rules.

I rented Oscar and Lucinda. I want to lick Cate Blanchett's face.

Oooh, I'm a bad bad person. Oh, I'm so bad. Remember the other day when I was getting my new couch delivered and I promised my old couch that some nice family would surely soon pick it up and give it a nice home? It's still out on my curb. And it rained this weekend. Every time I pass it I feel so guilty. It's just sitting there, wet, its cushions out of place, garbage having been thrown on it. It's so mad at me. It just looks mad. And sad. And this morning I was awakened by what sounded like a garbage truck, which is weird because it's not garbage day. I heard crunching and motors revving and I looked out, and a big garbage-style truck was eating a couch -- a different couch left across the street -- crunching it into halfs and dragging it into the belly of the machine. I watched in horror. My couch, just outside my window, watched in horror. It was facing the other couch. They'd had conversations over the weekend, and now my couch was watching this other couch literally be broken in half and then compacted into a tiny mass. Luckily, the truck kept going and didn't go for the other side of the street, but tomorrow it may not be so lucky. I promised it a nice family with a fireplace and naked women. I lied so bad. I'm awful. And the worst part: while the couch sat getting rained on Saturday night, I was literally fifteen feet away sprawled on my new couch. I felt like such a cheater. The worst kind. I'm a bad bad man.

Ooh, I got my homies. I arranged them all into little urban street scenes on top of my Compaq. They rule.

Nic Cage just earned major points in my book by donating $200,000 to the SAG fund to help struggling actors during the strike. Leno recently gave $10,000, which Spacey then bettered by giving $100,000. Hopefully this is going to turn into an A-List pissing contest with the SAG Fund as the winner. I now officially forgive him for Gone in 60 Seconds.

So I just found out that my comedy script, which recently advanced to the semifinals at Austin, is a finalist for Slamdance this year. The press release goes out today, meaning, I should have my name in the trades for the very first time tomorrow, Tuesday. That makes me moronically happy. Now, in addition to deciding if I want to go to Austin, I have to decide if I want to go to Utah in January.

The Forum

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The Anna Nicole Smith Happy Song Corner

 
 
I wait for you in heaven, on this perfect string of love. And drink your soup of magpies in a pottery bowl that looks as I am now, brown, round and warm. Chime on a rain wet. An ankle, toes or two. Sweetly as it drops upon your head. Just like it did today. Fortunately gone. I wait for you. Chime on a rain wet. An ankle, toes or two. Sweetly as it drops upon your head. Just like it did today. Fortunately gone. I wait for you... speaking of which. Fortunately gone. My husband, y'all. That old bastard. God love him. No really. Really, y'all. God love him. Old fucker. Now I just know he'd want me to have his money. That's the stupid part. Sweetly as his money drops into my account, y'all. You understand? I loved him. I did. That old fucker was a nice man. I deserve that money. But I don't even want it for myself, y'all. No. It's for the children. You know. The children. Now hand it over.
 
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