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[22 Oct 2008|04:51pm] |
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If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense.
The gossip blogs have already decided to spill what my next foreseeable acting project would be – Alice in Wonderland, mostly so that the common man can shit kittens over it. Not excitedly. They either think that the moving is going to "suck so bad", or that I'm going to "ruin" it, because I have a ... really really dark tan in comparison to the rest of the cast. (Racism: dead in America! Really!) In turn, I have a message for the nay-sayers: I've got something for you to suck. I guess I could take the high and mighty route, but at the same time ... why should I? The movie hasn't even began filming yet, and careers in the phone psychic industry are dead. (I should know, I had many a interesting job during college – remind me to bring it up sometime.) At the same time, giving a huge "suck it bitch" is probably going to cost me more support than it'll gain me, and then my agent will call me up and ask me to sound penitent in my next update, soundbyte, whatever. The woman and I are constantly at war. A cold war, anyway – she never gains any ground, I never gain any ground, and neither of us ever come to the battle we want, but we have suspicious staring matches. If she wasn't actually made of fabulousnesses (or looking out for my interests), I might fire her. Anyway, the point is – yes, I'm going to be in Alice in Wonderland. Of all the "classics" out there, I've always considered it one of, if not my exact, favorite. The things they had in school were, by comparison, boring. In hindsight, I can see the literary merit in that, but at the time, my friends were more than impressed that I even managed to read ten chapters of The Scarlet Letter. So, I know I'm pretty excited for this.
Of course, before I could behead people – oh, sigh, there's always stuff in the way from a good decapitation. At least they can't take the babies off my dinner plate! (Note to self – joke always goes south in most crowds, people act shocked and scandalized, likely have stick(s) in ass(es).) What was I even saying? Oh! Before I off-with-their-headize, I've got to babble about my other work, my behind the camera babies. As people in the industry and generally rockin' people know, last Saturday was the Scream Awards. The Dark Knight didn't do too badly for itself, if I do say so myself, although sadly Grindhouse still hasn't gone over well. Sigh. On the bright side, Watchmen footage, motherfucker! I came. On the downside, Twatlight footage. It was like watching a trainwreck. A trainwreck with sparkles. Although the trainwreck would have probably given me something interesting to look at. I'm currently shooting Zodiac which, despite the name, has nothing to do with Astrologists Gone Wild. It has to do with the Zodiac Killer who terrorized a good portion of the Bay Area in the late 1960s, and I really am not doing this movie because a funny drunk guy happens to share my last name. I've always had an interest in serial killers, which probably has my phones tapped by Very Serious Men in the FBI (Second Note to self - less phone sex? Or more?), I just avoided doing a straight killer-rampage horror movie because it's usually so ... if I say gratuitous, people would find that funny, coming from me. They're just usually too over the top, too ridiculous, and hell, the killers are boring. This is a guy that may or may not still be out there. The movie deals in what was presented, by the real Robert Graysmith, as real fact, albeit ones he seems to believe are true. It's all a matter of perspective. This is also a new turn for me, in that it's a mostly serious movie without anyone flouncing around with fear gas or putting pencils through peoples eyes. I only hope I honor the source material, not offend any of the families of the victims, and scare the shit out of at least one person. I've already shot one scene (all right, a few scenes) – the stabbing of Bryan Hartnell and Cecelia Shepard – and few people that I've shown it to can actually sit through the whole thing without looking away. I'll take that as a measure of success.
As a final note, Saturday – post awards – was the first time I ever did karaoke. I slurred a little through I Hate Myself For Loving You, so I was probably not my very best, but ... fuck, man, why haven't I done that sooner?
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