Friday, September 19, 2008

Help me choose

I can't afford them yet, but coming up in the next two months I'm going to have to get new glasses. Because it's finally dawning on me that though I have four pairs including my sunglasses, I haven't actually bought a pair since before 9/11. Making my lens prescription...old. So...yeah. Oops!

Since I keep my frames for eight or more years and never wear contacts and frames are only supposed to be worn daily for 1-2 years... might as well get a new frame to spice things up.

Oh, and Jose at the wonderful store Gogosha is going to make me a "face of the day", which will be a nice little plug for The Commune!

Lets see what you think of the choices. You've never shopped with me before, so here are the rules:

No labels. Impeccable cut/fit and materials. I like a story behind the item (All but one of these frames are handmade in Toulous by citizens who only make glasses.).

The unbreakable rule that requires some looking: it has to be pretty/lovely on me.

The last criteria is more open-ended and fun to interpret. That's to find a personality match: bold, soft, easy, chic.

That's me in a nutshell; everything I buy matches the above or it can't be on me. Now you get to vote on the pix:

(It is me fresh out of the shower with wet hair, sans makeup or bra...Though I enjoy dressing up, this is my most frequent look for working at home/rolling out of bed. If my future guy partner is out there grooving to authentic me, then hey, we should talk...Oh but also, please imagine my eyebrows are plucked and have that Selina Kyle arch going like they do here.)

Choice 5:

Choice 5 sideshot:

Choice 4:

Choice 4 sideshot:

Choice 3:

Choice 2:

Choice 2 sideshot:

Choice 1:



Whaddya think? I can only get one :(

I don't want to influence you with knowing the prices. Right now I have a frontrunner, and it's the cheapest! That's a first...

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Vanquishing venal villains

Big bro passed this on for my voracious, virtuous, valiant vivification. Et voila!

The Daily Show weighs in

Supposedly there's a two point difference between the candidates. Oh lord. I'm really going to have to leave the US before I get burned at a stake.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

The Commune - page to screen

Thought some of you screenwriters out there might want to see my journey from page to screen. Even when you direct your own work, things change onset due to budget, time, and reality. Cuz real life is a bitch; not nearly as malleable as imaginaryland.

Anyhoo, here are the first two pages of THE COMMUNE screenplay, and how it matches the first two minutes of the film. Yup, I'm "Mom":

FADE IN:

INT. SONOMA HOSPITAL - DAY

CU on a GIRL’S eye, blinking. (Polanski’s “Repulsion”)

Pull back to reveal

JENNY CROSS (16) stares out the window, her feet dangling off the hospital bed. A POMERANIAN sleeps contentedly on her.

CU a WOMAN’S hand with a large turquoise ring, holding Jenny’s. She pats Jenny reassuringly.

Medium: The woman drops Jenny’s hand and goes back to her chair beside the hospital bed. Picks up her knitting. This is Jenny’s MOM (30s), worn down and haggard.

MOM
(singing)
“Covers the eternal blessed land”

A NURSE (40s) enters, calling Mom away. But we stay on

JENNY, still, looking out the window, face placid...
Her eyes shift to the duo on the other side of the room, arguing in hushed tones.

NURSE
...not possible--

MOM
Make it possible. You don’t realize who her father is. Know what he will do to you?

Jenny’s eyes narrow on her Mom’s flailing arms - empty:

No knitting needles.

Jenny’s dead eyes spark.

In that flash, she is across the bed and to the chair, her bare feet skidding on the cold linoleum.

The women turn to her in panic, but it is too late:

Jenny holds the knitting needles out like weapons, threatening, the colorful yarn dangling.

The DOG dances around her feet, YAPPING SHRILLY.

MOM (CONT’D)
Jenny. It’s alright. Your family loves you so much. He’s not worth it.
(Reaching out to her)
Please?

JENNY
Fuck you, Mom.

With a sudden, violent stab, the needles are in her own eyes.

Jenny gouges them deep, fighting past her own horrible, primal SCREAMS as she guts the sockets, BLOOD and GELATINOUS ORBS pouring down her face, down her patient gown, pooling on

HER SHELF-LIKE BELLY...pregnant, third trimester...

The knitting project soiled, irreparable...

BABY BOOTIES.

The dog barks as the women’s screams join Jenny’s.

DISSOLVE TO:

BEGIN CREDIT SEQUENCE

Paintings and statues of ancient gods fade upon another.

Mythical depictions of nude heathens and creatures in the forest. Leda coupling with the swan. Prometheus bound and eaten by crows.

Sumptious whirls of color by masters Klimt, Da Vinci, Waterhouse, Canova, Carvogio, Picot, Munzer, Rembrandt.

Tableaus of our ancestors: Zeus, Pan, Nehkbet, Judith, Trivia, Shiva, Baphomet, Tara, Green Man.

END CREDIT SEQUENCE



The biggest difficulty was in conveying her pregnancy. We accidentally didn't get the shot that day. We'd gone over the day before doing the big third act climax scene and had to go back to that shooting location for half the day, cutting our time in half at the mental hospital. The DP swore he remembered getting the shot, but it wasn't there on the hard drive, and because it's indie film the director and the script supervisor are IN the scene. Oops. Glamorous indie film!

Also, the fucking needle snapped in Chauntal's hand like a twig on the first take, so if you look closely we never stay on her and the knitting needles long because the stage left one is half the length...she's palming it to hide it. Fuck. That sucked. And yes, I know to buy two of everything...the first pair had broken either when we were rehearsing or when Heidi was knitting...I can't remember the details at the moment. Siiiigh. Oh, and we were in the middle of haunted deserted hospital in the middle of a town we didn't know, so it wasn't like "Hey PA Mike, we've got this leisurely schedule where we can wait for you to drive to find us replacements..." No, that was one of our "we have to shoot 6.5 pages today" days. You know, the shots to open and close the movie. Double siiiiigh.

Todd the editor did an amazing job making the first minute work, considering how little we gave him. He had to get really daring with the quick shots and the extra surveillance camera positions, but I think the overall feeling works and is scary as hell. The test audiences have definitely been shocked.

Heidi, Chauntal and I actually went back last June and did a reshoot insert shot of Jenny's belly and the blood dripping from the booties...and dammit, it just didn't read on camera. You couldn't tell what it was. DEFINITELY couldn't tell she was pregnant, no matter how we had Chauntal contort in that gown. Soooo...about half the audience will get that she's pregnant, and the other half will discover it in the third act and be horrified then. C'est la vie!

I REALY wanted the baby booty shot; I was so proud of the way it was written and thought it would be so horrifying.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh nooooooooooo

Does everyone get an email asking if they want to be in the next Match television commercial?

Or are they actually asking me to be in the next commercial? They did ask for my phone number.


I can't feel my stomach.


Is this very very good for me and my love life or very very bad? I'm scared.

They made that girl on rollerskates look very cute and Hilary Swankish...

oh my stars and garters.

Shit. If i'm about to meet my husband partner love of my life, maybe i should delete that Shia post...or would he find it authentically me and kind of cute and want me to lapdance him?

I think I'm having an anxiety attack! I'm totally sweating.

They probably ask everyone. It's probably some mass email. Right?

Beefy cougar hunter

Oh no. Please. I'm too vulnerable to read such naughty things.

Shia, don't tease your elders.

Dammit. Now I'm not going to be able to get him out of my head.

Shia cooking breakfast for me in the kitchen with nothing on but an apron and a knowing grin. Shia in an overstuffed plush chair as I give him a lapdance. Shia removing my sexy secretary glasses and telling me to leave my high heels on. Shia whispering he likes the way I smell, the way I scream. Shia nuzzling at my neck, then pinning my arms above my head and stretching me leg over his...

Dammit!!!!

I've got work to being doing tonight! I don't have two hours to waste on Shiagasms!!!


C'mon Lis, you can do it. Picture him smoking.

Or driving drunk.

Or kissing one of the Olsen twins...BOTH the Olsen twins as they do heroin...

That's it...

Breathe...and release Shia.

Ahhhhh...


Phew.

THAT WAS CLOSE.


God. Do you think celebrities can tell when we masturbate to them? What a terrible existence.

Remember, remember the fifth of November

V for Vendetta
by Moore & The Wachowskis

...I thought we could mark this November the fifth, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are, of course, people who do not want us to speak. In fact, even now, orders are being shouted into telephones and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why?

Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of the truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there?

Cruelty and injustice. Intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance, coercing your conformity and submission. How did this happen? Who is to blame?

Certainly, there are those who are more responsible than others and they will be held accountable. But again, truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty you need only look into a mirror.

I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War. Terror. Disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you.

And in your panic, you turned to the now- High Chancellor Adam Sutler. He promised you order. He promised you peace. And all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent.

Last night I sought to end that silence. Last night I destroyed the Old Bailey to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago, a great citizen wished to imbed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice and freedom are more than words. They are perspectives.

So if you see nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you then I suggest you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked.

But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never ever be forgotten.

Frankly, my dear

Ohhhhh I've got V for Vendatta on right now, when Hugh saves Natalie from gangrape by the cops. I forgot how good this tale is. Joy!

Listened to a disheartening conversations between friends today. Political, of course. I no longer see the point. I know no one who has ever changed their point of view. So why all the philosophizing, as if anyone heard each other?

I'm going to some good friends' wedding in October in Italy, and am trying to figure out visiting Prague again. Still have an open invitation from Jen and her daughter Coral to visit, though I hate to intrude on them for too long now that I'd be a house guest instead of a housesitter. Plus it's already been two years since I've been, and I hate to get that close to a Paris meal or visiting Lisa in Glastonbury and not going...we shall see. I am seriously going to be checking out Europe as new home.

The one-two punch of hearing the hopeless political discussion and viewing the vapid, embarrassing, sickeningly materialistic representation "The Women" today has kicked back in my need to find a country where I belong. It's certainly not anywhere that would elect one of our choices, and seeing as there's 50/50 chance (or more if you distrust Diebold machines...)

My life lesson this month has been learning not to care what other people think of my art. Good or bad, their opinions can't sway me as an artist. I have to nurture the stength to listen to my inner muse, even in making a movie that takes an army to create it. I'm still the visionary; the buck stops here.

Writing reviews on Netflix has been instrumental in drilling home that there is a movie for everybody, of every intelligence level and background. All movies are relevant. It's a subjective art. Name a movie and you can find someone on Netflix who loves it, and someone who hates it. Passionatetly. And for personal, moral, and political reasons. To read diatribes against films my friends have made, that I've been proud to work on, and some genius pieces that I wish I'd worked on is desensitizing me to the criticism.

It's good to get a thick skin now, before it's my heart on the bigscreen (Be it fiction, memories from my childhood, or last words Jeremy said to me...it all bleeds the same when judged.). And it's apropos to my apprehension about the results of the election. Come what may, I need to live my life daily in a manner that stands for what I believe in and expresses my soul. However and wherever that may be.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Marvel Vs. DC

Haven't seen an unfunny one yet. Still causing happy faces on me...

Twisted films of PES

Splendid imagination.

Exercises for better sex

For men to increase stamina and strength! Sounds like good stuff to me. Haven't had anyone hold me up since that rugby player Philip. Mmm. Philip. Great guy. That's a famous story of mine; might have to share it here sometime.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Thinking of Mom

Coming up on the third anniversary of her death. It's funny how it gets worse every year instead of better.

I just received a lovely email from a Canadian friend of the site who essentially said the same thing seven years now after his mom's death, and it gave me this feeling of permission and expansion. I'm sorry to say if you haven't experienced it; it never gets better. It's not a love affair that ended. It's your mom. And there's something so fundamentally wrong about not being able to ever turn to her again or throw your arms around her neck that you really won't understand until it happens to you.

Two memories are in my head right now, both of them my fuck ups. The thing about caretaking is your daily thought until the loved one dies is "Don't fuck up" because every choice you make has their life in the balance. You're the one responsible for the medication doses and for monitoring every health change and knowing if it's a symptom that their doctor is going to be either pissed that you called about, or pissed that you didn't call about. And there's no manual. It absolutely taught me I can't have children.

So my first memory is of my sister's b-day three years ago. She was working at the hospital and I was supposed to drive mom over and we were going to go do something. Can't remember what. On the way out the door, I decided to take an allergy pill. Figured out by the time I got to the hospital it was actually an Ambien. Worst car drive of my life, trying to keep it together for mom. I never even take aspirin and I rarely drink, so RX have huge effects on me. I was a drooling, comatose mess by the time I got us into the parking lot. That's all I remember, except their anger and disappointment in me, as usual.

The second memory is one I've shared before, of my big "day off". I was going to eat ice cream and watch Gilmore Girls all day with my friend Michael to celebrate graduating from the UCLA screenwriting program. Mom was trying to get onto the porta potty by herself alone downstairs and fell, wedging herself in an incredibly painful and vulnerable position inbetween the bed and the wall. She was half-naked in her own urine and humiliated and it was just awful for her. Burly, wonderful Michael rescued her, and if we weren't friends for life before then, well that was the moment. I couldn't have done anything to help her but call 911, so he was our calm, wonderful hero.

Those are the types of realities I wasn't supposed to share while she was alive. But they're the ones that haunt me in her death. The times I wasn't there for her, the humiliations she endured.

I don't know. I've been really emotional this month, and sleeping a lot and feeling awful about every area of my life in general. Every area except how I look, ironically (see below post). There's little movements where things could change for the better, but it's all really slow, and I'm supposed to be putting on this chipper face because I'm job hunting and dating and selling the movie/myself and any one of those people could look at this online record and see I'm actually a mess and reject me.

But I don't know. My gig is the truth, for better or worse. And the truth is I feel crappy and incapable of so much and wish the doctors would straighten out my depression medications a little quicker. Once they get the dose down, then I better be strong enough to take on why I'm working so hard to empower everyone but myself.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Doc Hollywood

My therapist keeps bringing up my need to lose weight.

Mind you, this is HIS need for me to lose weight. Before he studied psychology, he worked in weight loss. He's a too-skinny vegan.

I haven't ever brought up any interest in weight loss, said I was dissatisfied or unconfident, and I've always looked beautiful when I've seen him...

It's starting to piss me off.

I suppose the situation is good practice for not listening to every opinion one person has. But at the same time, I'm paying him to help me change the things I want to change, not the things he assumes I don't like or thinks I'm wrong to not like.

It's so very LA. And it makes me mad, because I've been every size from 0 to my current, and I've never felt sexier or better about myself or happier in bed than I do now. Being a smaller size doesn't pop your self-esteem up.

For gods sake, I was surrounded all Saturday night by three hot 26-year old guys who thought I was their age, and I've been asked out by three crew members who saw me running around naked twice oncamera. Something is working just fine with me and my presentation.

And when I weighed 100 pounds, people thought I was bullimic and I had non-stop trouble from fratboy types hitting on me. Being my current size weeds out the riff raff.

Plus, I love my breasts. Loooove them. Waited my whole life to feel like a woman with awesome breasts. And when I lose weight, I go from my current awesome D cup to a joyless B cup to a AA cup in no time flat. Why would I starve myself and work out hours a day to have less for a lover to play with and to look more like him? Makes no sense to me.

Besides, the right guy is going to be attracted to my body shape, and that doesn't really change whatever size I am. Once I meet someone who likes me for me, maybe I'd lose a little weight with him. Or if he makes me happy in bed, the weight tends to fall off fast anyway because I'm too happy to eat or do anything else but be in love...

I told the doc I didn't want to change my body, that I was this size as a feminist stance for other women and I loved it. And that besides, polls say men prefer a curvy size 10. He said the studies were wrong and named another study where husbands passive aggressively sabotaged their wives' diets so that the women would continue to have low self-esteem and be controllable. And that he just wants me to have the highest self-esteem possible so I can attract the best guy.

Grrrrrr. There's so much wrong with that whole paragraph above I don't even know where to begin. Hello, LA filter of viewing the world! And I assume I'm going to therapy so that I would NOT marry a passive aggressive control freak!

He also keeps talking about me eating smaller portions at each meal, assuming that I eat too much. That's not even my problem. My problem is that I eat too little. I have one meal a day. That puts my body into starvation mode. If I wanted to lose weight, I'd need to eat more calories and spread the meals out to 4-5 a day so that I constantly had fuel and my body stopped panicking. But I don't want to lose weight, and eating that way is a pain in the ass waste of time and money. Case closed.

I think I'm great the way I am.

I think I'm so great, I may just have to leave a therapist who insists I'm not.

Oh! Oh! I just remembered! Those pix of me in August at my USA High Reunion! THEY were always all super weight conscious, and I was a teen size 5 (What is that, a woman's 2?) when I started that TV show. My old castmates all thought I looked amazing at the reunion and wanted to know what was different, and could not believe it when I told them the difference was gaining weight! They poo-pooed it, but it's the truth! I look too angular Jewish scarecrow when I'm skinny, like Blossom or Jennifer Grey. When I'm curvy I FEEL like Angelina Jolie.

Screw that. Doc better not waste more time on it this week. It's his problem, not mine. I'm not taking that on. Professional opinion rejected.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Success!

I'm Netflix reviewer #110. Check out my reviews and vote them helpful!

Mark and Meg, I recant. I actually rented "Rent" and enjoyed it very much. Thanks for the tip!

Monday, September 08, 2008

New experiences

I double dated with a smart, gorgeous girlfriend. She set it up. Definitely out of my comfort zone, which was a good thing.

It was actually pretty funny, because I'd had a meeting with my therapist that day and he was drilling in all the characteristics I should be looking for. One of the big points he made was that I wouldn't like an impossibly handsome guy in a Rolex and Armani suit. Sure enough, BOTH the guys...

But still, a very cool experience. They were gorgeous Italian men. The older one owns the famously trendy restaurant we were in, along with a dozen other famous clubs and restaurants in Los Angeles that young hollywood attend. They were crushed that we barely recognized the names of the places, but we're both intellectual screenwriting gal Fridays.

It was interesting to be waited on hand and foot, order anything I wanted, and have the whole restaurant staring at us or coming over to our table. Not my cup of tea, but as a writer and occasional actor I was game to try it on for the experience.

I seemed to fit in fine. Genetics. The Jewish blue blood started circulating through my veins again. I received a half dozen compliments on my delicious Nanette Lepore dress, and a group of gentleman grabbed my arm on the way out and told me I was beautiful. I don't think they were trying to poach me, they just wanted me to know. Nice.

It was also helpful to watch Dana's behavior, because she's accustomed to these situations as an upperclass New Yorker. She was expert at deflecting the male attention at the end of the evening, and expected to be treated like a lady who owed nothing. She also happened to be allergic to fish in a sushi restaurant, so it was fascinating to watch the men rack their brains with ways to please her. They were crushed she couldn't enjoy the finest sushi in Los Angeles. I felt bad for them. They would have impressed the heck out of the right young ladies. We were appreciative, but not impressed. We're both conversationalists, so the endless expensive wine bottles needed to be accompanied by overflowing wit. But I was hysterical. I was cracking myself up, muttering unappreciated Dorothy Parker-esque words into my martini and wine glasses. At one point I had three full glasses sitting in front of my plate. Unreal.

The datees were definitely good contacts to make. It will be interesting to see if the non-restauranteer really helps me with his connection to the distributor I want.

It's all nice, but again these aren't my people or my value system. I like listening to brilliant people talk, or going to cultural events, or beer and pizza with a DVD. But now I know exactly what I want on the menu, so I can go in at an empty happy hour sometime and enjoy the orgasmic food. One of the sushi rolls haunts me...

Sunday, September 07, 2008

Insightless

Things I can't make heads or tales (hahha) of:

What is it with me and younger men? Most of whom actually think I'm 26? Spent yesterday evening in a bar surrounded by three great hot 26 year olds. That seems to be a magic age for me. Very compatible. I wish Mom was around to talk to. She always thought I would end up with a much younger man. Some unconventional Tim Robbins/Susan Sarandon type relationship.

Why is it so hard to find a lover/filmmaking partner in Hollywood? There are all these guys who are single-focused on their career, but they don't get how powerful we'd be together, how much fun we would have. Look at the Duplass brothers and Jay's producer wife, the Coen brothers and Frances, Peter Jackson and his producer/writing wife Fran Walsh, Jonathan and Christopher Nolan and his producer wife Emma Thomas. Really there isn't one guy or family team in LA looking to add a good-hearted, generous, trustworthy, creative beacon of a woman to the mix...?Make movies instead of kids...?

What exactly was up with the ex-lover of mine who read this incredibly personal post and then tried making love to me that way last spring? It felt like he was a kid playing dress up. I totter between thinking it was sweet of him to try to please me, and that it was creepy. I don't know. I mean...if he wanted to make me happy he would have done one of the tiny things I asked for to feel a connection to him while we were dating. It's not like he doesn't know how to treat women (He gave all his platonic female friends flowers, lunch, gifts, phone calls, birthday wishes, time watching movies, invites to his shindigs.). I would have preferred that instead of spying on me on my blog and making me think of another man while I was in his arms. Strange. And hollow. Sort of a mockery of both relationships. I just can't figure out how I feel about it. There's no point in ever asking him because I'm not going to hear the truth. He lied to me constantly, and wouldn't admit he'd ever even read my blog.

Thursday, September 04, 2008

May you die with wit on your tongue...

Oscar Wilde's final words:

"Either this wallpaper goes, or I do."

Apocalypse watch

Oh god, here it comes, we're all going to die...

You know, it's not the dying as much as the WAITING that's really stressful...that and the heavy sandwich board gives me a backache.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

This movie just explained everything to me


Oh no. Do I have to move, or is it like this everywhere? Rent "Loveless in Los Angeles" and let me know.

You owe it to yourself

One last time to vote for POTA to come into existence: http://ideablob.com/ideas/2890. If you're a filmmaker, take five minutes to support an organization that will fund your movie!

Holy Christ balls

I've got 83 active matches on eHarmony alone. How do much do I have to pay to be taken OFF of there?

Have I mentioned I don't actually like attention from horny men? It's kind of scary.

My new headline on Match is going to become "How will you protect and provide for me after the bomb drops?" That should do the trick.


By the way, exactly how many guys from my movie am I allowed to date before I become uninsurable?

Because they keep asking me out, and they're young and smart and cute and liked me being the boss.

The latest one should insure me a reservation in hell just for considering his offer...but he's so sweet and talented and loyal and the body type that makes me melt and what's a dozen year age difference among old souls!?

Aaaaarrgh. God, if I was a man I wouldn't have thought twice about it, I'd be naked already. Alas, I want a relationship, so it's fodder for the magic wand. Reeeeally good fodder.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Angelenos! LACMA & Another Gay Sequel!

Gorgeous Japanese art at LACMA. Who wants to go?

Support Indie/Queer/My Friend Cinema! (multi-task)

Bingo tonight at Hamburger Mary's to toot the opening of sweetie Jonah Blechman's AAAAMazing reviews!!

“Blechman …seems to be channeling Joan Crawford in full histrionic mode”-Dennis Harvey, Variety

"… scene-stealing powerhouse Jonah Blechman, who plays the insanely hysterical Nico, is as terrific and hilarious a comedic actor as any Jim Carey or Mike Myers!"-Shotgunreviews.com

"Standouts include...most notably Jonah Blechman (Nico), who kept the audience in tears…"-gay.com

LA Screenings begin Friday!
Leammle’s Sunset 5 - Daily
1:45pm, 4:20pm, 7:10pm*, 9:45pm
*Cast Q&A this Fri. and Sat. ONLY

Good lord, what a lucky girl I am, working with talented artists before they explode. I cast him in my Divas Inc reading two years ago!
Jonah Blechman as Yvonne, Trevor Murphy as Diva, Troy Conrad as Kenny, Chauntal Lewis as Raquel

Wish you'd been there; they knocked it out of the park!

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Wooooot!

Final season of The Shield beginning next week!

HBO is free 9/5/-9/8 in LA Time Warner land, and they're doing an Entourage marathon so I don't have to rent season 4.

Why doesn't Emily Watson get hired more?

I'm now Reviewer #597 at Netflix; read my reviews!

I haven't had a parking ticket since February!

I recommend Verging Writer's blog.

Our composer is done with new music for The Commune and we're entering Sundance and Slamdance this week!

Brea Grant is a bad-ass who shaved her head as a teen. My hero!

Remember my complaints about getting ripped off at restaurants? Today a clerk chased me down at my car to give me back $2.

Pretty cool.

Job safari

I'm hunting the perfect job. Please keep your ear to the ground!

I'm open to part/full-time, remote/onsite.
My ideal match is a smart, progressive company like Netflix.

Skillset:
project management & leadership, blogging, writing, screenwriting, editing, researching, New Media, Web 2.0, light programming/photoshop/website design, understand technology, encyclopedic knowledge of film.

Education
- MA in Media Studies from New School University
- BA in Women's Studies from UCLA
- Graduate Certificate in Screenwriting from UCLA
- NYU's Educational Theatre (MA degree begun, on leave of absence).

Experience:
-Designed and programmed a multimedia CD series estimated to generate 400 million dollars. During the project I coordinated with multiple corporate departments and worked closely with the Vice President.
- Produced and directed a six-figure feature film, managing over thirty employees onset and by remote.
- Associate producer on a feature film that won an Independent Spirit Award.
- Award-winning screenwriter.
- Also I have this blog you might have heard of...

Attributes:
Creative thinking, curiousity, patience, tenacity, enthusiasm, connecting, hosting, making people feel comfortable, inspiring, wit, joy, expressing, predicting, noticing detail, passion for learning and adapting.

- Myers-Briggs say I'm an ENFP.
- My sign is Cancer.
- Don't like walks on the beach (fallen arches, porcelain skin).
- According to THE TIPPING POINT, I'm a "Connector."
- I'm passionate about empowerment, Netflix, Tivo, the interweb, and mayonnaise.

Cher as Catwoman?

I'm all for a May December. But these planted stories are getting goofy. Guess there really are that few roles for the Hollywood ladies...

Monday, August 25, 2008

Interesting

I've discovered something disturbing about our society by doing a simple popular keyword search on the Internet Movie Database.

Cunnilingus 1,190 titles

Rape 5,784 titles

The next time somebody sneers a charming "Why do female screenwriters always put THAT in their screenplays?" I'll say "To balance the force, ahole."


By the by, Blow-Jobs are represented at 1,739 titles.

But I bet that very few of those 5,784 violent sexual images we're bombarded with are men raping men.

And this isn't counting all those night time procedural shows that subsist on torturing and assaulting women for their bread and butter. Anyone have a clue why that's soooo popular? Because it worries the hell out of me.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Harry Potter


Wow. Huh.

Stars aren't really leaving themselves a lot of wiggle room, are they. I mean, once you've gone this far all that's left is sharing your colonoscopy video.

What I'm discovering

What we're talking about in therapy is that when you have a parent who doesn't protect, provide, and love you unconditionally like they're supposed to, you end up with this built in "I'm not good enough" core belief.

What's strange is even if one of the parental units IS there for you the way they're supposed to be, humans are quicker to believe the bad than the good about themselves (remember all those criticisms but none of the compliments?). So it becomes "Well she's my mom, she HAS to love me." And since my father figure was a narcissist, there was a game afoot of me constantly trying to prove I was worthy of his love, and him telling me over and over no, I wasn't. This pattern continued into adulthood until I ended communication with him three years ago. A decision no therapist has ever questioned or not supported.

Which means the only time I'm ever really calm inside is when I'm with another man I've given that power to again to judge me as being acceptable, and things are going well.

The way this insecurity is playing out in my dating life has been really interesting. I was aware enough to NOT do the thing where I'm the girl who is always in a relationship and has the next one planned out before I leave the current one. So I avoided the serial monogamist sandtrap.

Instead, I've spent most of my adult life alone trying to avoid dating men exactly like my father. But no matter what superficial characteristics I eliminate from the dating pool (can't be tall, can't be a doctor...oh wait, that didn't work, let's try a social extrovert!), I always end up with someone lesser than me who is intense, moody, competitive with me and puts me down.

Fun times. You can see why I opted out of dating for years. The relationships I chose were not places where partnership and fun were occuring.

What my therapist and I are working on now is getting me a large pool of single men to sort through for the right fit. In the past I've gotten confused and hung up on guys who were a partial fit, and slipped back into my "I can be anything, I'll prove myself to daddy!" mode. So we're detangling the notion of finding a father figure who accepts me from the dating process. Working on me accepting myself, and framing dating as a trip to Ross: sort through those racks quickly for the one or two gems that are perfect for me.

To that end, I'm now on several dating sites where I've been contacted by about 50 men on each site. The goal is lots of first dates, very few second dates, and for me to get in the drivers seat and take charge of really evaluating if they have the things I need: kindness, a creative mind, curiousity, wit, moderately good-looking, educated, don't want kids, in a field not competitive with mine.

And then when I get excited because I think I've found someone who might fit, I have to take things ultra slow and not jump into anything thing until I've known him several months and his behavior consistently fits his words.

I've been really good about NOT blogging about the date that upset me and sent me back into therapy, but you know what? Eff it. Dating is like deciphering a murder mystery novel, so maybe this will help another woman out there...

He had grown up with a friend of mine, had demonstrated good ethics and reliability in a crisis my sister witnessed, and he looked like a good surface match. We had a fantastic two-hour conversation the night we met at a charity function, he was wildly enthusiastic about me and pursued me immediately with gusto.

He was a comic book geek finishing a microbudget film, so I could see our lives fitting together as filmmaking partners (my greatest fanstasy, dammit). He used to be an actor (red flag!), and had a gilded tongue that said all the right things. He was an adventurous traveller and loved that I was being laissez-faire about where I ended up living (my second greatest fantasy: being global filmmaking partners).

Knowing I'd broken up with someone who didn't get the movie "Miracle Mile" he set up an extravagant, lovely homemade brunch and first date screening of it at his house so I could determine if he was qualified to date me. All sounds great, right?

It was great. We had long intimate conversations about the value of family, our religious beliefs, our outlooks on life, my problems with The Commune and how it meant at the most I'd have a quick vacation to Prague. Everything matched up. He knew I wanted to seriously date and said that was what he wanted.

He loved my movie, and used it as some sort of intense connector for us because he works in the building the helicopter takes off from, and I lived in a place featured in the movie. So "Miracle Mile" became this shorthand intimacy for an implied "oh we're meant to be" vibe.

He was an okay kisser and a great cuddler/napper (I think we fell asleep in each other's arms on his couch for about two hours). He said beautiful, worshipful things to me while I was in his arms, but pushed too hard for sex. He got to third base and then kneeled in front of me for more. I stopped him, telling him my heart was attached to my body and I wanted to date him seriously. He said that was great and rare. He acted happy about it and finding me and said he understood. I thought "Yea! I'm dating a great guy!"

He walked me to my car, introducing me to a neighbor (saying "Don't worry, she'll get used to you") and promised to call in a week for our second date. We both forgot about my DVD because he was so fast ushering me out (it had been a seven hour date so that didn't seem strange), but when he found it that night he emailed that he would "keep it safe and warm" until our next date.

A couple nice little emails a few days after, then he disappeared.

I spent ten days wondering what he would cook up for our second date, and picturing what little movies we were going to make together in the future. Then the oxytocin wore off. The hormonal bonding switch went off, and I could see he wasn't going to call me. And I felt hurt and totally used and freaked out I'd picked another liar and what the hell was wrong with me?

I couldn't take the waiting around for the platonic return of a DVD I knew I'd want to shove up his ass, so I emailed another week later. Said under the circumstances of being sexually intimate with him and then never hearing from him, to please keep my DVD as another gift.

He apologized profusely for his bad behavior and said embarrassment over it had made him shy to reach out to me again. He asked for "the honor" of a second date. He said he wanted to take things slower, so him arranging a midweek lunch date didn't seem strange. I agreed to it provided he call me after (boundary setting, fix the behavior I didn't like. I was trying.).

Him emailing me right before lunch that he needed my cell phone number because he left my business card at home seemed strange, but I was already almost out the door to meet him.

Him showing up in shorts to the cheap Chinese restaurant he chose and had me MEET him at despite the fact that my apartment was on his route had my spidey sense a-tingling. Then he conducted our second date like a Hollywood business meeting, all about his movie and work. He talked about the two parties he'd had where industry people had seen "Miracle Mile" sitting out and had told him how much they loved it. Because he's waaaay too busy at work to see or contact me, but he's throwing parties he's not inviting me to and had plenty of reminders of me. (Come on. How socially retarded do you have to be to say that?)

When the conversation got around us on a personal level, I was absolutely shocked. Turns out the behavior he was embarrassed by wasn't not following through on his word after being sexually intimate with me. He was apologizing for pushing to have a one night stand with me (?!) because that's sooo not like him or what he wants.

Excuse me? A one night stand? Yup. Despite our hours of talking about intimate subjects like the death of my mom and his abusive father, he'd never had any intention of seeing me again. He said he really thought I'd move to Prague for a year. He seemed very sorry for himself that I didn't sleep with him, and not to care a wit at what his bald-faced lies had done to me.


(By the way, let me clear up any confusion some guys might have out there. Unless a good woman SAYS she wants a one night stand, she thinks she's seeing you again. So don't be a user douchebag dickhead. Pick a hussy for your one night stands, not the smart accomplished witty warm woman you're sooooo happy to have finally found that you can't wait to toss her out like garbage the next morning.)


I told him point blank that it sounded like he didn't want or have time to date. He didn't answer. Later he said he just didn't know what he wanted.

All in all, it could have been dad sitting across from me, shucking and jiving and lying; messing with my perception of reality and acting moody and disappointed that I wasn't jumping in proving myself under his rules.

He then asked me to keep him in my Hollywood network as our career trajectories were so similar (oh yes he did!), and to keep him in touch about The Commune. I was more than done by then and dismissively told him to look it up on the website instead.

At this point I'm fine, I'm just pissed at the audacity he had to use my beloved movie to create false intimacy and get into my pants. In a town where people worship their movies, it's heresy to ruin a movie someone loves. Dickhead. I'd still like to toss my DVD off a rooftop or shove it where the sun don't shine.

In hindsight, I could have judged what I learned about his intentions and character on the second "date" from him with the simple piece of information that he didn't have my phone number stored in his phone. Could have just cancelled then and saved myself a lot of wasted time.


That's the problem with going into dating looking for "the One", believing what people say before they've had a chance to prove themselves. Even someone who comes highly recommended is more than capabale of pulling the wool over my eyes if I go fast.

Thus, only pecks on the cheek for at least a month, lots of one-hour coffee first dates with men in a field other than screenwriting/directing, and we'll see who is still standing after months and months of me being a price above rubies. That should weed out the carpetbaggers and hucksters and amoral jivetalkers Hollywood is littered with.

The good news is, I didn't sleep with him and get dumped like a one night stand, or start an unhealthy and intense two month relationship that he slowly faded from. The bad news is I'm still choosing the wrong men to have two dates with. That's okay. I'm super inexperienced. This situation is fixable. We can rebuild. We have the technology.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Gagged

You can always tell when there are things I'm not supposed to blog about because I get all quiet. I mean, it's one thing to have certain friends and family members request I not talk about them on the Internet. Totally understand that.

But it's difficult for me to find something to blog about when what's taking up my time or weighing on my mind all the time is what I can't analyze here with y'all.

So...yeah.

That's about it. Hrumph.

Basically, just to reiterate...Had a crisis crop up with The Commune that has taken all of July and August to handle. Thus no Prague.

I'm back in therapy, with a new guy I like a lot. We're working specifically on dating. Because everyone has issues sometime of worthiness, but... how shall I phrase this... If one were to have grown up with a...er... father figure that was a narcissist who needs everyone around him to be unworthy, then that unworthy belief becomes truth and manifests itself in nasty ways in one's dating life. i.e. Looking for acceptance and approval from the strangers one dates.

And then if one were to move to LA where there are many narcissists, unscrupulous people, and adroit liars looking to take advantage of one's insecurities...well the horror movie writes itself. So we're working on me not equating the sorting process of dating with acceptance, and working on upping my general self-esteem/worthiness. Fun times.

Happy would-be 69th b-day to Mom today. Don't smoke, kids.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Unicorn chaser

In case you need a smile, this one did the trick for me.

DISABLED TURTLE GETS NEW WHEELS

"At first Arava was a little lonely, but now she is finding reptile romance. Zoo officials said the 10-year-old tortoise has begun mating since being fitted with her special skateboard. Here, Arava scoots after another tortoise." Source: AP

You go get some, Arava! A modern woman.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Genre Girl takes over the New Beverly Cinema

Okay, here's a fun little meme for you. If you could take over LA's New Beverly Cinema for seven double features (like Joe Dante, Diablo Cody, Edgar Wright, and Eli Roth), what would you pair together and make people watch? Tag, you're it!

By the way, come up with a clever title, a la The Wright Stuff, The Greats of Roth, Mondo Diablo/Season of the Bitch, Dante's Inferno. I couldn't do it. No movie titles around Elisabeth/Elizabeth or Fies/Fees. So we'll call it:

REBELS WITH A CAUSE Festival

Tremors/Shaun of the Dead - Silly thrills with outsiders

Thelma & Louise/The Quick and the Dead - Postmodern cowgirls

The Magic Christian/Holy Mountain - Antiestablishmentarian

Cat People/The Last Seduction - Killer female sexuality

Duck You Sucker/Django Kill! - Socialist spaghetti

sex, lies, and videotape/Miracle Mile - Beyond romantic

Don't Look Now/The Wicker Man - Impinge and unhinge

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

USA High

I had this crazy only-in-Hollywood experience twelve years ago of being cast as a regular extra on USA HIGH, a Saturday morning kids' show by the man who made SAVED BY THE BELL. A "Regular Extra" means I had a guaranteed gig for two years cast as a high school student on the show. As it was supposed to be a boarding school for Americans in Paris, they wanted the verisimilitude of the classmates in the background being the same for the duration of the show. Many of us were eventually given lines and recurring characters, the holy grail of extra work. Gunther on FRIENDS started the same way.

Most of us cast were in the 20-28 age range and spent an enormous amount of time together at the Sunset Gower Studios. In a weird way, it was like going to high school again.

Through the miracle of Facebook and Myspace, some of us started reaching out to each other. And the extraordinary Jodi Novick ended up engineering a ten year class reunion for us last night...replete with blown up mounted snap shots, reunion photo cake, goody bags, and margaritas.

It was stunning to see everyone. I swear we look the same or better! What an amazing, cool event! Here are a few photos. If I get a hold of some of the old ones, I might post them, too.





Thursday, August 07, 2008

My piano

My piano was taken away last week by movers, and I cashed the check today. I was lucky it stayed in the family; a cousin across the country purchased it for his family so I might see it again someday.

It was emotionally hard to sell. Even worse that the money is only going to cover getting me out of my stupid lease. It's not like it's buying me more than a month, but that's one more month of time I have to devote to fixing some complications that cropped up with THE COMMUNE.

The selling process itself was rough even without the deep emotional attachments. Interviewed 2 dozen moving places, and am still getting email and phone messages (that's why voicemail has been full the last two weeks).

The company I chose was $600 less than any other and claimed to never use subcontractors or add on charges, and that their guys knew what they were doing with baby grands. None of the above was true.

Three guys showed up, with what looked to be very little knowledge of how to take apart a piano. One guy had me sign 8 contracts while two others wrapped the baby grand, then at the very end they jacked on $300 for materials. I called the company to complain and they said my choice was to pay or have the piano go with no protection whatsover in a box. And I told him, no, his choice was he could honor the written quote he'd given me with the wrapping or his men could go home now without being paid anything.

After a half hour stand-off, they realized I was serious and honored the original quote. Yes, I do take on three Russian men in my own home. Seriously, you should see me when I'm pissed. No, really. Never mind. You don't want to. I know it scares my friends.

So here's something pretty for them, since most of my friends have never heard me play. That's Mom at the beginning with the clapboard, and Brenda recording.


Lis playing piano - higher quality from Elisabeth Fies on Vimeo.

Goodbye to my baby. Sorry I failed you. May you arrive at your new home in the loved condition you left California in.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

One more silver lining

I met Allison Anders last weekend, and she was excited about THE COMMUNE and PISTOLERAS. She knows my amazing composer Danny B. Harvey and wants to work with him. So we were telling her about my films he's scored.

Pretty cool to have one of the indy heroes I studied fifteen years ago say "Ohhhh you're good" just after hearing the titles.

Yeah. That was freaking cool. Be even cooler if she sees THE COMMUNE.

That's the thing about LA. Sure, there are a lot of poseurs here. And the most soul-consuming thing can be avoiding the aholes preying on artists for money. But overlooking the suits and MBAs and unstable prom queens and lottery ticketers...

You can tell when you meet a real artist who wants to create.

We all tend to recognize each other with friendly nods and smiles, and be open and exhuberant and share our toys and invite each other to play. So even when I worry about money, worry about my friends, worry about artists and art surviving in this world for the betterment of society...

There are amazing spontaneous moments in LA where you just get to enjoy the sheer joy of thinking and creating and growing with the world's finest artists.

Hard to give that up. Nothing means more. What wouldn't I sacrifice to feel that spark of life inside me? I kind of get how some women long to be pregnant because I feel that way all the time about art, music, writing, talking, sharing, listening.

Okay. Silver lining.

Brenda is challenging me to be positive. Here's one cool thing:

I've gone from the Netflix ranking of 200,000th reviewer to 1100. That's pretty sweet. I'll be top 100 before you know it. Cue Pinky and the Brain themesong.

In fact, you can help me get there. Netflixfriend me and if you already are a friend please take 120 seconds to buzz through my 60 reviews and click "Helpful" on each one.

Two seconds each, really. Just click on "more of TheCommuneMovie's reviews", then "Helpful".

Oh my lord, that would be HUGE. Thank you!!!!!

Monday, August 04, 2008

Awww man

Here's another crappy lovestory, courtesy of my gfriend Chrissie's friend Matt. And condolences to Jenn Oberle who has lost a friend, and Jaye who lost...well let him tell you. Beautifully.

Oh, life.

Don't know why I'm sharing these tales today, except hey man, life is pain and being there for each other. If you don't have anybody who'll stand up to you and stand for you and be a real friend instead of an enabler, what the hell are you going to do when the sh*t really hits the fan?

Could be worse for me I guess. TV just said 1 in 5 has herpes.*

See? Worse things than moving and a future sleeping on friend's couches and avoiding a lawsuit I can't talk about and more unexpected/full-time work on THE COMMUNE for free and dating in LA and damn stress-related health issues and getting screwed on Ebay and having Best Buy lose 4 months of laptop backup including my taxes right when the IRS wants them and not even giving me a damn store coupon as recompense....and all of the above preventing Prague.

You heard me. No Prague. Duh, considering I was supposed to be there four days ago... URGH!!!!!

LIFE ROCKS!

Bring it on, fuckers! AIYIYIIIIIIIIYIYIYIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!! (Xena yell. More of a strained gurgle. But I'm tryin' here.)

Positive, Pollyanna. Be Positive.


* No judgement. For me at this moment, that would just be the straw, man. Me = Camel.

Oh, and if you're a friend who has recently said something to me AGAIN about "I just can't imagine what you do aaaaaall day long" like I'm some dilettante, you're lucky my hand's not wearing you like you're Kermit the Frog.

However, if you're the straight married male friend who sent me this email, thanks for the needed laugh: "What?! i can't believe that you're not putting out any more. men suck. at least LA men suck."

Still not a man-hater. But single southern California men will definitely be sucking themselves.

Not that I ever did that in singleton land, mind ya. Just can't resist wordplay. Dateplay, on the other hand? I is celibate. Until I is we.

Holy...

When did one Terabyte of freaking external storage drop to $200?

I feel like I just watched a man walk on the moon for the first time.

1 TB???? I don't even know what that MEANS...

And my notebook has the most insane amount of memory and still crashes every five hours...

It's a brave new world.

Somewhere in Heaven


Definitely don't read this excerpt unless you want to bawl.

Three of Mom's biggest inspirations:

"Life is going to be full of pain, but it doesn't have to be tragic. And if you don't keep your sense of humor, it can kill you."
-- Dana Reeve, RIP lung cancer, age 44

Sunday, August 03, 2008

Brenda the cancer slayer


Brenda (Nurse Sis) works harder than anyone I've ever met, and still continues on her rare day off to help all of her friends through selfless acts.

This morning was no exception. She got up at 5 am to volunteer for the Free to Breathe 5k marathon to raise money for lung cancer. Then she's coming over to help me pack. Again.

Lung cancer is the #1 cancer killer of both men and women. She's not yet raised even half the money she pledged to.

So please guys, if Brenda has ever been there for you on her day off by giving you free medical advice, dropping by your hospital room to make sure the staff was treating you well, coming to your wedding or birthday or charity event or play or short movie festival (and you KNOW she has)...

Please be a friend and help her now. It's an easy donation link, and the good karma is priceless.

Friday, August 01, 2008

Re: the terribleness that was X-Files sequel

Shockingly, aggressively bad.

Spit in their audience's eye bad.

Poorly made: Scully, Mulder and Amanda Peet's hair lengths morph from scene to scene, the script is nonsensical and on the nose, it's not an X-File it's a serial killer, the score is terrible, there are no stunts or big scenes that warrant the budget (that could have been made as one of their 1 million dollar TV episodes), and there's an entire close up scene of Scully where she has two different earrings on. Oh, and that awful New Age song on the end credits over the makes-no-sense water shot that leads to Mulder and Scully seductively clothed in swimwear and Scully breaks the fourth wall and waves at us?

They've all lost their minds. I hope the paychecks were fat.

Um...worse though...the movie was disturbingly anti-woman. Gross, unexplained, unnecessarily hateful scenes towards women. Michael noticed it at the exact same moment I did and said it was beyond uncalled for and into the territory of what's pscyhologically wrong now with Chris Carter and did he get a divorce since the last time we heard from him creatively? Michael was freaked out to let me walk into the women's bathroom alone after the random misogyny we'd seen onscreen.

That all being said, Michael and I had a blast. Once we adjusted to it being shite, we were snarky through the entire movie (quietly, of course, in awed whispers and quizzical-eyebrow-raises).
REEANCTMENT:

Found it HYSTERICAL that half of our tiny audience got up and left before it was over.

Then the end credits rolled and we both grabbed each other in horror at the dedication card to some poor asshole who died and was hopefully not involved in making the film. So the joke now is: "No YOU'RE going to die first, and I'm going to make the worst movie of all time and dedicate it to YOU!!!!!"

We're both going to have to live a VERY long time. Oh my stars and garters, soooo funny.

Also of high amusement: that we're both primally sexually attracted to Jason Strathairn as one of the few men on the planet who could realistically provide and protect for us after the apocalypse. Mark our words, as children of the 80s we know it's going to happen someday, peeps. And Michael and I are going to be happily tucked right under Strathairn's Mad Max leather-clothed arms. Still afraid to die lest one of us dedicates an Ed Woodian movie to the other.

You're going first, Michael!!! I'm pulling your plug! Just you wait!!!