Pictures Continued....

We were going for an inside the trunk, Tarantino-esque shot. It should look pretty rad on the final cut.
Jerkface McBrokendick behind the works. Truth be told, I get a kick out of pictures like this. I've wanted to be here for a long time. That shit feels good.

DVD Extras

For seconds of enjoyment, here are some behind-the-scenes pictures of "Tumble Dry Blues", which we shot on Monday. All the pictures were taken by Katie, who did sound and some camera operating and whose car we used for the flick. I directed it and co-worte it with Dylan (who also stars). The other lead actor is Leyland who will also edit this nonesense and (hopefully) soon so we can put it on You Tube and let y'all see it.

Dylan (far left) with Leyland and me. Those are the digital video cameras we get to use as first-years.

Doing the angry walk up to the car. Those fuckers just wouldn't talk loud enough. Just kidding, I was probably just going up to them to make a joke about boobies.

My double chin and I directing a scene in the cramped back seat.

Katie, the masterful sound girl and the worst director of all time. I actually should be wearing the headphones, but she wouldn't let me.

Leyland and I talking shop. There is supposed to be a dead terrier in the garbage bag.

The two serious actors between takes. They're whipping rocks at poles.

The boys had to keep soming out for air, it was getting mighty arid inside the car. Also, we were discussing killing that bystander and selling his organs on vampirefreaks.com

Spunky Funky Bloggity Bloo

Whoo, man. Got back from a four and a half hour stint in the editing lab, but I think my project is finally finished. Can't wait to book in another long night on the weekend to help edit the movie we shot last weekend and the one we're shooting on Friday. That actually wasn't sarcasm - I can't wait to edit my own work. It's like making the whole movie all over again.

Saw Mark on Sunday night. It was surreal and lovely. Like a melting clock made out of marshmallows. It had been over a year since we said our goodbye in Taipei and it's sweetly satisfying to know I can add another name to the exclusive list of friends I'm always myself around and able to slip instantly back into our comfortable rapport despite any absence from each other. It's rarer than you think.

Last night we all headed over to Jessica's apartment for booze and charades. It was (mostly) good times. We sang loud, out of key, Weezer songs and Katie and I relived the magic of those Tube commercials. There was, committed against me, a small transgression however. Nothing major, but it reinitiated me to the need of manners in society. Look, I've made my share of mistakes and I have my scarring regrets, but I keep them with me and try to learn from them. What I'm saying is not that I'm above reproach, I'm just stating that there's a way to treat people. There's such thing as courtesy. Often saying 'please' and 'thank you' to a McDonald's clerk is a human's assurance that they are indeed polite and working within society's parameters. I fear it goes deeper than that. Sure, it's always good to be friendly with strangers, but what impresses me is taking other people's motivations, desires, and invectives into consideration - true consideration. It's the difference between being 'nice' and being kind. I strive to be kind. I sometimes falter. Perhaps my definition varies from yours. But I know what it means to me, and I feel I'm closer to it than many people. The kind ones can be elusive. Set your traps. They, and you, deserve it.

Advice OR Disjointed Writing On A Higher Level

Got a six second preview of 'Delivery Boys' in my email from Nathan. It looks fucking rad - it's incredible how a little visual effect and some sound editing can alter a flick. If you want to see it, write me an email or message and I'll send you the QuickTime movie.

Haha, I'm watching it again, Dylan and Davis' reactions are perfect. Throughout the shooting of 'Boys', Nathan's car got pretty bloody. We also forgot to clean it up after we wrapped and got some hilarious double-takes and jaw drops on the freeway as we sped home in a car that was dripping very realistic looking blood. We also got a visit from the RCMP, but they were extremely friendly and let us finish as long as we didn't bring out any of the fake guns in between takes.

Speaking of jaw-dropping, Mark from Taiwan just called me and is visiting Vancouver. So I'm going to grab a beer with him tonight. Wowzers, that's going to be fucking surreal to see ol' Limey Mark 'The Rocket' Richard again!

I actually forgot to mention something last post. As the four of us stumbled home Thursday night we came across a film set. It was of an SNL movie coming out next summer with Adam Sanberg and Chris Parnell (I don't watch the new SNLs, so I have no idea who the fuck those guys are) We talked to a few PAs and the assistant Location Manager and everyone was apt to talk and was friendly and allowed us as much access to the set as they were permitted.

The Asst Loc. Man. Gave us his card which was damn decent of him and told us to keep up with making our shorts on the weekends, they'll be our calling cards and that's how you get trusted with a feature film set and crew. That was inspiring to hear, enhanced by watching the director who was about my age at the helm of this production and ordering around (albeit politely) these hundreds of people. It was all very impressive. Too bad the flick will probably suck balls.

Furthermore, on a completely unrelated topic, no man - ever - in the history of the planet has improved his appearance with a ponytail. Don't do it, gents. Never.

Getting Shot

There's blood all over my head. I spent the afternoon shooting a short 5-minute movie with Dylan, Nathan, Davis and Brendan. Dylan and I wrote it, Nathan was director. It was a crime story about a gangster and two delivery boys who are in a lot of trouble. It's pretty ridiculous, but was a blast to make. I'm going to edit it as well, and hopefully put in up on You Tube soon. It involved five people getting shot, I was one of them, we used an entire bottle of stage blood. My life has become much more fun lately.

On Monday afternoon we're shooting another short that I'm also stoked about. It's called Tumble Dry Blues. I wrote it with Dylan again and this one I'm also directing and operating the camera. Leyland's editing it soon after filming is over so that should be available toot sweet. This one is more of a comedy, a lot of the lines came out of improve between the two actors (screenwriter Dylan and editor Leyland are the two leads). I hope you guys dig it.

Thursday was a school-held BBQ with all the film, acting, costuming, and cinematography students present. After free burgers and decaffeinated pop we went to a film festival of four amazingly well-shot second and third year's shorts. They were of varying quality, and once again Lost and Found remained the most impressive and moving to me. Afterwards, there was a panel discussion with all the directors of the shorts. I know none of us are exactly within the upper echelons of filmic society and that I am, incurably, immature, but I felt downright giddy to be wearing my little nametag at a screening where there was a panel of filmmakers afterwards. It was fucking rad and it had the ancillary benefit of getting me motivated. I want to be on a panel one day, looking uncomfortable and offering experience-based advice and making cute girls chuckle at deadpan anecdotes of the countless problems incurred on set.

When the auditorium cleared, Dylan, Davis, Brendan and I went to the Holiday Inn near our school and got drunk in their lounge. It was good times. We talked about hockey the whole time. We're starting a film student hockey pool that I'm sure to dominate. These are cats that I am not just friends with because of geographic closeness or school related conversation. We're fast becoming true pals and it makes me exceedingly happy to be working with them for college products and our own little opuses we produce on the weekends.

Written with flu-addled hands

I spent two hours after school with Boris looking at a computer screen attempting to edit together raw footage of Harsh Realm into a coherent four minute vignette. I'm aware that editing is integral to the process of making an engaging and affecting flick (Stanley Kubrick correctly pointed out that editing is the only art form that is truly unique to filmmaking - screenwriting, acting are not dissimilar from the stage and the shooting of a movie shares most of its principles with photography and sound recording) but pull out my eyelashes is it a time consuming, tedious and frustrating task…it will get better with time, we're pretty much using the software unawares, and it is starting to come along it's just going to take some long days, but I suppose that's okay and to be expected.

There was no class on Friday so on Thursday we finally decided to have a non teacher-supervised group building exercise and got drunk in Kelly's basement. There were the old fogies of the class: Myself, Brendan, Davis, Nathan and his lady, and Dylan (a super-rad cat from Calgary who owns his own t-shirt company, I've also linked to it under my 'Allies' heading -www.bonerclothing.com) don't let the name scare you off, they're awfully cool shirts, made sweatshop free and I've seen them, they hang very well and are of high quality.

The young pups who prevented us from hitting up a bar were the aforementioned Boris and the hostess Kelly. It was a great fucking night, Kelly showed us a 20 minute short she made in high school that I thought was extremely well-done. We played Taiwanese drinking games and told jokes and smoked too much. The night sort of got away from us by the end we were stuffing socks into passed out Boris' mouth and adding to Monday's embarrassment. I won't bore you with details but suffice it to say it included playing a game involving the word 'truth' and the word 'dare'.

I woke up after a couple of hours of sleep and made it to a house on Berkley street close to my college in attempt to live in a place that has working internet, a washer and dryer, a kind landlady, is closer to school and is 200 bucks cheaper than my cabin. Well, this shared basement suite has all those things and despite my haggard, hung-over appearance and the fact I hadn't had a shower or brushed my teeth - she rented the place to me! Word.

On Saturday I attended the Vancouver Student Film Festival (www.vsff.com). A flick from Cap College, Lost and Found was in competition. They were all short films of varying adroitness, but they all looked great and it was inspiring to see that there are avenues to get started on once school is finished., I honestly thought Lost and Found, a flick about a lawyer befriended a young girl after his family dies in a car accident, was the best and voted for it in the Audience Choice Award. It didn't win. I was also partial to Because You Demanded It! Which dealt with two competitive comic book store employees who attempt to manipulate two regular customers into dating. If you know me, you will understand why this appealed to me. It was fun to pretend I was a big shot and hobnob with the handlebar mustachioed elite of the Vancouver Student Film Set…which isn't very elite at all. I would loved to go to the after party and stood in the corner awkwardly, but I had to go to my ex-home to pack for my move on Sunday.

How do you end a blog post when you're sick and inherently lazy? Like this:

Well!!
Chorus:
Are you Johnny Ray?
Are you Slim Ray?
Are you Paid Ray?
Who wants to know? Who wants to know?
Are you Sting Ray?
Are you Nick Ray?
Are you Jimmy Ray?
Who wants to know? Who wants to know 'bout me?
Hey, can you tell when you look in my eye
You don't mess around with me
'less you feelin' dangerous.
Are you into my scene, lay it on the line
Ya come and take a walk with me
if you're feelin' dangerous.
Cuz I'm mean-a
I'm lean-a
I ain't no in-between-a.
With Aretha, I'm a dreamer
Good God, I'm a believer.
Chorus
Maybe we can shake it down by the walk
Do you think I'm takin' liberties?
Are ya dangerous?
I gotta get it, somethin' in my genes
ya come and take a walk with me
if you're feelin' dangerous.
Cuz I'm mean-a
I'm lean-a
I ain't no in-between-a
With Aretha, I'm a dreamer
Good God, I'm a believer
Chorus
Everybody jump back, turn around now
Let's do it again
Everybody jump back, turn around now
Let's do it again
Chorus (x2) fading

Studenting

There’s an untrue myth circulating. The story offers that NASA, when confronted with the problem of ink being useless in zero gravity, spent millions of dollars on creating the now famous Fisher Astronaut Pen, while their cosmonaut rivals in the USSR opted to simply use a pencil. This is actually not the case. Fisher was not hired by NASA to design the pen, nor did he charge NASA any money when he requested they look at the implement he had invented on his own time. Both nations used grease pencils before the pen’s invention and now all countries with a space program use the Fisher Pen.

The lesson in the parable is an important one, I suppose: it’s wise not to over think things. Keep It Simple, Stupid. Knights In Satan’s Service. Something like that…

Now that heavy-handed intro is complete, I have been having difficulty keeping it simple. First year film school throws a lot at you. If you ever want to know what it’s like then listen the fuck up. It’s a filtering process. In one way they are filtering the wheat from the chaff. Those who are serious and those who are dilettantes. Moreover they are also truncating your vision of yourself as a filmmaker and forcing you to decide just what (of the ~ 160 jobs on a feature film) is it that you want to do? There’s a class on producing and business. One on lighting and camera. One on editing. One on writing. One on directing. One on location scouting. One on casting. I could go on. I do sometimes. Go on.

You get assignments in your first few weeks like writing a film review or writing a short essay on how commercial stylists manipulate you, it’s film theory and a little boring. Then you write a short script and the class votes on the four or five best ones. You get split into groups and are given specific roles. You treat it like you’re goddamn Louis Morneau on the set of Carnosaur 2 or something. You have to audition actors and talk to make-up people, call ahead to reserve locations and work under a deadline. It’s intense, but incredibly fun. And I think I might be good at it.

I’m as myopic as ever in my focus. Nothing has swayed me from the writer/director path I’ve always assumed I wanted. Technical aspects aren’t my bag, baby. It’s, at times, frustrating dealing with peripheral duties I’d rather not sully myself with, but they’re all integral parts of the process and necessary to understand if you want to be a filmmaker of any capacity. So please don’t take this as complaining. I am somewhere where I should be. I endeavour to separate myself. To not get caught up in the vanity of displaying ‘good taste’ or the peer pressure to be campy or think that Fight Club was the greatest achievement by any human being in the history of art. Shit, it wasn’t even the best movie to come out that year.

I haven’t met my like-minded mates yet, but I’m assured of my reasons for being here. I just hope I can keep it simple and make something you guys will like.

Random Vancouver

These were all taken by Jordan on his visit over the long weekend... A self-portrait of the photographer
Myself, Amy and Andrew pounding mad pavement on Burrard Street
My dorky self in front of the wonderfully designed public library.
On the way down to Wreck Beach and many naked old men.
Looking sullen on the bus. Per usual.
Amy modelling her new backpack in the Chinese Market.
The Hi-Fi in Jordan's hostel room. It only played good music, it was incredible.
Van city in sepia.

Back At 'Er

My earliest memory of school, besides crying when my mom left, was looming posters commanding me to 'Stay In School'. Perhaps I heeded their advice too strongly.

Today was my first day back at college, finally doing something I find inspiring. It was kind of surreal. All the first years looked so scared. Was I like that back in 1998? Probably.

If it feels a tad odd to say I'm a student again, then it's fucking bizarre to start acting like one again. It's been a loooonng time since I've been in a classroom where I wasn't at the head of it teaching Asian people the difference between Present Perfect and Present Perfect Continuous sentences. I reverted back into my student ways like slipping into a warm bath. Slouching in my chair at the back of the room, doodling in the corner of my clean Hilroy notepaper. It felt like a homecoming.

In the morning all 160 MPP (Motion Picture Production) students gathered in a lecture theatre and were give our orientation packages, our schedules and an opportunity to be introduced to the instructors for the year. They all seemed friendly, if a little parochial. Oddly enough the most pedantic speaker was a guy who's crowning achievement was directing a straight-to-video action flick starring Michael Beihn. Ah, I shouldn't be such a dick. We all have to pay our dues and he's gotten a lot further in his career than I have.

At noon I stopped by the Cap Courier, the campus paper, offices to speak to some editors. Bust this: the Capilano College newspaper is one of the only, if not the only, CUP paper to pay its writers! I was fucking flabbergasted - who wouldn't want to do that? It's only like 35 bucks per article, but still. That's beer money. Time to dust off my well worn copy of 1001 Star Wars and Masturbation Jokes, because I think I'm coming out of retirement. I also looked over some volunteer opportunities and a signup sheet for intramural soccer. Maybe I should use this opportunity to reinvent myself as a persona who does things. Those cats always garner respect.

After lunch it was my real first class entitled 'Film Crafts'. Film 101. Seriously, that's what it was. Today was a lot of group building activities, for example six of us were put in random groups and we had to agree on and then draw up a house design for all of us assuming an unlimited budget and then a million dollar budget. Making a movie is a pretty collaborative process as I'm sure you know, so I guess it was a non-intrusive tests to make sure none of us were sociopaths. Most of the class seemed nice. I have made a real effort to be a confident, present student. Raising my hand, taking charge, speaking loudly and offering direction to strangers. All things, historically, I have avoided. I want to correct the errors of my previous jaunt through post-secondary and make the most of this. It's the only chance I got.

So, yeah. I'm a film student now. Tomorrow begins my first real hands-on day with Lighting and Camera in the morning and the Post-Production and Editing in the afternoon. People will assuredly ask me how it feels. But I'm not built that way. I rarely have ponderous realizations or summarizing reflection periods when I am immersed in something. Usually, when it's over and I look at it thorough the ruinous lens of nostalgia (as Michael Chabon would say) then I view it academically and am able to apply adjectives. I'm just trying to try hard and not fuck up, meet some cool, like-minded people and have as much fun as possible.

Me Talk You Soon.

A Week With the Sav and Other Stories.

To the memory of Steve Irwin. Hunting crocodiles in heaven now, mate.

My evil landlord has yet to correct the problem of my internet connection, so this information is a tad dated. But I know you crave updates of my bland life like John Karr craves extradition from Thailand so turn up your brain knobs and enjoy.

Jen came and visited around the 23rd of August for a week on the coast. As ever, it was an encapsulating pleasure to see my BFF and hear her wonderful stories and cutting criticisms. We ate delicious dinners, highlighted by Stepho's on Davie street which offers mountains of Greek food for low prices, hence the block long lineup outside I reckon.

That was also the night I saw my beloved Narduar and the lead singer of Hot Hot Heat looking aloof in his cowboys and spray on jeans. I have begun to shake my head at new fashions. I am now, officially, not the new generation. Thank Christ for that. Their bands all suck.

We climbed the Grouse Grind, which is purported to be the highest point in Vancouver. It's also called nature's Stairmaster, which is a misnomer since I don't think mountain trails, let alone mountain trails with wood stairs fastened into the soil are natural occurring phenomena. It took about an hour and half to reach the summit, which is about average. I wasn't too sore afterwards but it's a decent workout and my shirt was appropriately wet at hike's end. It is my lofty ambition to make it a regular activity of scaling Grouse Mountain, maybe go up once a week. I will be one svelte, oxygen-raping stallion if I keep it up.

To be seen in public with a girl, Jen and I also viewed Little Miss Sunshine, which is, honestly, one of the best movies I have seen. Directed by the married couple who directed a lot of Mr. Show episodes how could it be bad? Hilarious and touching without a hint of schmaltz. I know a great flick when after it's over I am filled with jealously that I didn't write it. This was certainly the case here. See it! Jizz!

We didn't do too much partying. If I bored you, Jen, I do apologize.

The day Seamus left, Amy and Andrew rolled in a cherry red chariot. They brought me a wonderful homemade gift. Her cardboard heart keeps me warm at night, friends. We had a good talk and they kindly drove me into work in the morning. It's sweetly soothing when a friend you care a great deal about dates someone you tolerate. However, when you not only tolerate their chosen mate but sincerely enjoy their company that's something to water thrice daily and keep vigilant watch over.

Jordan joined the motley crew on Friday. Which was a night of work finishing and then a walk through east downtown which isn't too sketchy as long as the sun's still out.

In the evening we went to scope out Of Montreal. What a show. Great dance/party music. And a male lead singer in a miniskirt and golden fleece jacket gets my vote for front man of the month. Wonderfully entertaining.

Jordan and I went to Kits on Saturday, after scoping out a Haida art exhibit and an instillation by Arthur Erickson (is he cool, Skip?) night did some window shopping and checked out Half Nelson. Even though the title seems completely arbitrary it's a worthwhile moving with another lassoing performance by Ryan Gosling. Well done, you handsome, talented Canadian who's boning Rachael McAdams. I fucking hate your guts.

We got high and watched some college football (C'mon Demon Deacons!) in a nearby pub and then had a serene walk over Burrard Bridge back into downtown in a perfectly warm evening.

The debauchery and sobriety shirking of the long weekend was only dampened by my landlady who asked me to leave the premises. She was upset at my visitors and demanded I pay her an extra 100 bucks for the utilities, because apparently hot water is more valuable than gold or oil in BC. It was fucking brutal, I had to talk her out of evicting me right then and there and, moreover, had to make Jordan sleep in a hostel is his last night in Vancouver. I might be moving in with a friend of a friend in North Vancouver in a few weeks. It would be a much better place and I think I would have a lot more fun there and, assuredly, be less isolated. I will keep you posted. Big ups to James for forwarding me the information. I owe you a Pilsner, Sheck.

Sunday, I met Kat. A woman introduced to me via e-mail by a mutual friend in Edmonton. She does seem like a sweet, engaging lady, but it was a pretty odd first impression. She showed up to the bar already drunk and after joined by her workmate and cousin the tequila sunrises in pitchers appeared and shots soon followed. She spilled her drink and then fell on the floor. She also had to slap some douche bag in the face who grabbed her tits in the bar. Yeah, I guess you can say I liked her right away. Now, don't get the wrong idea. She's got a boyfriend, but I think (when sober) she and I can forge an enjoyable friendship. Granted, it was a little uncomfortable, made worse by my being such a sissy with weed lately and after smoking up with her crew and Jordan I got very withdrawn and left early, however after meeting someone for the first time completely fucked up there's a certain pretense lost. It's a relationship accelerator. I know I don't have to play the same 'testing limits' games with her. I can just be my regular, dirty joke telling self around her.

Forgive the poor writing and errors - I wrote this quickly. School is starting. Bye.

From the internet cafe that smells like sad.

Sorry I haven't written in awhile. Who am I apologizing to? Anyways, this will be brief. I just want to let you know that a man could go broke in this town with the plethora of good shows coming through. Sufjan Stevens, Amy Millan, TV on the Radio, The Decemberists, The New Pornographers....I could go on, believe me. Those are just some of the bigger names.

Also, I will write more about this later, but the I had a chance to converse with the only celebrity I cared about meeting in Vancouver, Narduar, and I blew it. I saw him walking down Davie street wearing his trademark hat, which led me to believe that he was happy to be noticed, and I simply stared mouth agape.

Damn. Anyways, I hate writing in internet shoppes, but once I get my computer fixed I shall regale you with tales of my friend Jen's visit, climbing Grouse mountain. Shaking various bonbons at the Of Montreal show (mad props to Andrew for suggesting it) and almost getting kicked out of my cabin among the stars.