One of my favorite things to do after watching a movie is to imagine the process that it had to go through in order to get made. Having caught the matinee of the newest Pixar film Up, I can imagine Pete Docter's pitch went something like this: "What if I were to give you a movie about a cranky old man who ties a few thousand balloons to the roof of his house and flies away in it (literally), seeking to recapture the spirit of adventure and fulfill the lifelong dream of his late wife - to explore a mysterious wilderness in Venezuela. Is that something you might be interested in?"
Most Hollywood types would laugh the guy out of the room. I'm sure there have been times when the Disney folks, particularly in the bean-counting heyday of the early 2000s, wanted to do the same. Luckily, they long ago learned that these guys are just crazy enough to make anything work.
And to me, that's the secret of great animation. It's a medium meant to create worlds that could not exist any other way. Pixar takes it to a different level because they venture into territory that most big-budget, star-packed live action films wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. Sure, the loony hook about an old man in a flying house is what sticks out - but at its core, Up is tale about the greatest adventure of all: love.
Another pleasant surprise, especially considering the marketing muscle that went into trumpeting this as the first Disney/Pixar 3-D movie, was the seamless nature of its presentation. None of the story-killing "HEY LOOK, MA, WE'RE IN THREE-DEE!" gimmicks the format was suffering in earlier films like Beowulf. Seeing them produce another wonderful film, it's easy to shower Pixar with praise as if it were some enchanting land of the mystics, akin to the Wonka Factory - where nobody ever goes in, but magic comes out. Personally I think it's pretty basic: focus on a great story, and great artistry will follow. You start to wonder, as the studio hurdles into its second decade, if the pressure is finally building on them, particularly with John Lasseter's attention starting to stretch between Walt Disney Feature Animation and Imagineering. It's truly the only thing that could slow them down - a self-imposed restriction to stop think creatively, the point where the pitch meetings resort to nixing ideas because they might be seen as too "out there". How long before the pressure starts to be a burden, where the underlying message of the company is, "Whatever comes next, it better not be the one which stinks. The streak must remain intact" But who are we kidding - the latest movie was a blast and it's about an old man in a flying house! With a dog that talks via electronic collar (who, by the way, is the most hysterical and endearing character in the film)!
As unbelievable a run as it's been, it has to end at somepoint, right? Eventually, there came a day when even Joe DiMaggio didn't get a hit. I'm relieved to see something like Up, which is so out there on the surface, be pulled off with such charm, intrigue, and conviction. It makes me think these guys are bullet-proof; some would argue they already got the misfire out of their system with Cars, which I would agree has some underwhelming and overdone moments but hardly sinks to the level of some of the crap produced by rival animation studios in the last 10 years. Whatever your age or current status in life, do yourself a favor and go see Up. If you really can't find yourself enraptured by the heart and warmth of a film like this, then your inner-child is locked away forever with no possibility of parole.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Where "It Was Amazing in a Kind of Crummy, Had the Feeling of Totally Being Rigged Kind of Way" Happens
Don't know if the cameras fixated on him a lot, but Brady Quinn was caught being a witness late in the fourth quarter of Cleveland's victory tonight.
Hat-tip to the Cavs, who avoided laying another colossal dud on their home fans by blowing every point of a lopsided lead of 22 only to clear everybody out of the way and deploy the "we are all going to stand here like we have no clue what to do and let LeBron James literally hold the ball for 20 seconds before jacking up a 21-foot jump shot, which will go in because he's The Chosen One" offense. While this is a well-known staple of the Mike Brey offense at Notre Dame (minus the whole going in part), there's something about the last five minutes of a critical elimination game being willingly turned into a 1-on-5 game of H-O-R-S-E that doesn't have me firing up Kanye West. It just leaves me scratching my head.
They say that all sports evolve as we move up the ranks of age and status. Youth hoops lay a foundation, high school and AAU ball is where a basic separation of talents occurs; college is where the select few get to shine, and the truly elite make it to the pros. But it seems like the basketball has reached the truly archaic post-modern phase of its development: the game is done evolving (and really, how do you top the Magic/Larry/MJ years?) and the only thing that changes is our interpretation of it. There were about 5 straight possessions when the Cavalier's offensive plan, and I'm positive this was by design, was four the other four members of the team to get as far away from James as they possibly could. Either LeBron pulls up for a jumper or drives the lane, where a no-doubt foul call was waiting by whistle-happy officiating crews. (Side note: Bill Simmons has an intriguing exegesis on the state of play in the professional ranks; check it out here)
Still, it's not like LeBron didn't drop in a couple of clutch jumpers and single-handedly pull out an elimination game for his team. I just fail to see anything awe-inspiring about it. Of course the NBA can't rig it to make Cleveland systematically squander a comfortable for the third time in as many games, leaving the door wide open for Bron-Bron to heroically ride in for the save. Nobody's that clairvoyant. But performances like James, as good as they may be, are a side product of the culture the NBA has embraced: 11 guys out there playing one-on-one...fourteen if you include the refs, who seem hell-bent on figuring out a way to influence the game rather than regulate it.
As funny as they may be, the current cycle of Kobe-LeBron puppet commercials speaks a cold-hard-fact commentary on the state of the NBA: it's simply too concerned with its own interest to actually embrace the game as it was meant to be played. We can't look at the league and picture a brilliant battle between Los Angeles and Cleveland for the championship - we have to couch it in terms of "KOBE!" vs. "LEBRON!", which isn't all that difficult when we've got both players and an army of promotional yes-men reminding us how 'awesome' they are.
Yeah, I get it. I'm just not particularly inspired by it.
Hat-tip to the Cavs, who avoided laying another colossal dud on their home fans by blowing every point of a lopsided lead of 22 only to clear everybody out of the way and deploy the "we are all going to stand here like we have no clue what to do and let LeBron James literally hold the ball for 20 seconds before jacking up a 21-foot jump shot, which will go in because he's The Chosen One" offense. While this is a well-known staple of the Mike Brey offense at Notre Dame (minus the whole going in part), there's something about the last five minutes of a critical elimination game being willingly turned into a 1-on-5 game of H-O-R-S-E that doesn't have me firing up Kanye West. It just leaves me scratching my head.
They say that all sports evolve as we move up the ranks of age and status. Youth hoops lay a foundation, high school and AAU ball is where a basic separation of talents occurs; college is where the select few get to shine, and the truly elite make it to the pros. But it seems like the basketball has reached the truly archaic post-modern phase of its development: the game is done evolving (and really, how do you top the Magic/Larry/MJ years?) and the only thing that changes is our interpretation of it. There were about 5 straight possessions when the Cavalier's offensive plan, and I'm positive this was by design, was four the other four members of the team to get as far away from James as they possibly could. Either LeBron pulls up for a jumper or drives the lane, where a no-doubt foul call was waiting by whistle-happy officiating crews. (Side note: Bill Simmons has an intriguing exegesis on the state of play in the professional ranks; check it out here)
Still, it's not like LeBron didn't drop in a couple of clutch jumpers and single-handedly pull out an elimination game for his team. I just fail to see anything awe-inspiring about it. Of course the NBA can't rig it to make Cleveland systematically squander a comfortable for the third time in as many games, leaving the door wide open for Bron-Bron to heroically ride in for the save. Nobody's that clairvoyant. But performances like James, as good as they may be, are a side product of the culture the NBA has embraced: 11 guys out there playing one-on-one...fourteen if you include the refs, who seem hell-bent on figuring out a way to influence the game rather than regulate it.
As funny as they may be, the current cycle of Kobe-LeBron puppet commercials speaks a cold-hard-fact commentary on the state of the NBA: it's simply too concerned with its own interest to actually embrace the game as it was meant to be played. We can't look at the league and picture a brilliant battle between Los Angeles and Cleveland for the championship - we have to couch it in terms of "KOBE!" vs. "LEBRON!", which isn't all that difficult when we've got both players and an army of promotional yes-men reminding us how 'awesome' they are.
Yeah, I get it. I'm just not particularly inspired by it.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Circus Circus
I firmly believe that in the 21st century, we have progressed to the point where we judge people not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
And you, Carlos Zambrano, simply are bats&^t insane.
And you, Carlos Zambrano, simply are bats&^t insane.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Strings Attached
If it weren't for a miracle three at the close of Game 2, this playoff series between the Magic and Cavaliers would be over. For my money, it is over now that the Magic held on in overtime for a 3-1 lead over The LeBrons.
So with the Cavs one game from extinction and Team Kobe locked in a dogfight with the Nuggets, the suits who populate David Stern's top secret lair must be sweating bullets. An Orlando-Denver finals? After all this energy and hype expended on trying to manufacture Kobe v. LeBron into the next Magic-Larry? I sincerely hope the puppet masters over at Nike were smart enough to cut a version where Kobe and LeBron are sitting around with nothing to do:
So with the Cavs one game from extinction and Team Kobe locked in a dogfight with the Nuggets, the suits who populate David Stern's top secret lair must be sweating bullets. An Orlando-Denver finals? After all this energy and hype expended on trying to manufacture Kobe v. LeBron into the next Magic-Larry? I sincerely hope the puppet masters over at Nike were smart enough to cut a version where Kobe and LeBron are sitting around with nothing to do:
Monday, May 25, 2009
Live and Let Bye...No Chance
The White Sox had a pretty adventurous week. It started with two consecutive wins over the rival Minnesota Twins, and the news before Thursday afternoon's game that a deal was in place for them to acquire Jake Peavy from San Diego. Oops. Then they went on and gave new definition to the old cliche about being "taken out behind the woodshed" with a 20-1 loss in the finale against the Twins. It was more lopsided than the score would have you believe.
So naturally on the heels of a 20-1 loss, the Sox proceeded to throw back-to-back shutouts and were on the verge of the sweep when normally automatic closer Bobby Jenks blew his first save for a 4-3 loss to the Pittsburgh Pirates (this year being an unusual scheduling quirk in which the Sox and Cubs did not play, as traditional, on the first weekend on interleague play; in fact, for the first time ever the Crosstown Classic will be a mid-week affair at Wrigley come June).
Most would expect another flat, predictably stupid West Coast trip to follow such a deflating loss. I don't know what it is, but the Sox and horrendous play in the Pacific time zone (save three glorious nights in October 2005) have been like the Masters and CBS - partners for a tradition unlike any other. Current score? White Sox 16, Angels 3. You just never know.
Speaking of 2005, and as a recent refuge of the Southland I have personal experience with this, but I think we need to have a nationwide fan intervention on the followers of the Halos: you have to let this AJ Pierzynski thing go. I'm not saying you can't boo the guy; he's on my favorite team and I sometimes have to fight the urge to boo him. It's no accident AJ likes to dabble in pro wrestling in the offseason - he knows that every sport needs a villain, and the quickest way to be cast in that role is to act like somebody who simply should be booed on principle. But the incessant whining over Game 2 of the ALCS needs to stop. Let it go. Seriously.
By the way, the 4-2 homestand failed to make an impression of the pundits of ESPN power rankings crew: the Sox moved one spot up from 23rd in the latest edition, with the following "Did you know?" tidbit:
The White Sox got two straight shutouts after allowing 20 runs on Thursday. They're the first team in MLB history to achieve that feat.Congratulations on making baseball history, White Sox. Too bad this "feat" has to be accompanied by one of the more dubious pitching performances in league history.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Quote of the Day
Reflecting on the never-ending story that is TV political punditry, the following comes to mind:
When the politicians complain that TV turns the proceedings into a circus, it should be made clear that the circus was already there, and that TV has merely demonstrated that not all the performers are well trained. -- Edward R. MurrowIn other words, Nancy Pelosi would've been a great speaker back in the heyday of the Pony Express.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Funny Flashback
One of the perks about living in Los Angeles - such as it is - was a theoretical placement right smack in the center of the media capital of the world. It does make sense - most of the major conglomerates who produce media content these days (movies, TV, the elusive "catch-all" known as new media) are centered in LA, and every major newspaper, magazine, network, and "adult" company has at least a satellite post there. A bank robber holds up banks because that's where the money is, and the thousands of aspiring stars for tomorrow scurry about Los Angeles for the exact same reason.
Like everything else though, being in proximity to the money and power comes at a cost. In a lot of ways California hasn't changed all that much between the days of the Gold Rush and the late 2000s. Namely, that in exchange for the chance to live and work among the huddled masses with the possibility of someday maybe hitting paydirt, you implicitly agree to take what is given and expect nothing more. It's a wonderful little social contract probably drawn up in the lunch room at Paramount by Harry Cohn and David Selznick which has unofficially been grandfathered in to every studio exec ever since.
Did that stop the Writer's Guild of America? No. That's why, after years of apparently bending over for the Hollywood majors who control and produce nearly all content these days, they stood on principle last fall and went on strike, putting many people out of work (literally) and many many more people out of work theoretically (all the estimates about "lost income" centered mainly on money that could've been made off of productions that might've gotten started if everything else had gone exactly according to plan). I count myself in the latter group; there of course were no guarantees of more work had the writers not gone on strike, but put it this way: bringing all episodic TV production and nearly all local, union-sanctioned film production to a halt between November and April was not a recipe for young up-and-comers without plum hereditary connections.
Still, the strike accomplished what it set out to (mostly), and I can't say it hurt me too bad in the long run. In hindsight, I'm sure that if you put it to a vote everybody would've preferred to skip straight to the bottom line and resolve things without a labor stoppage and three and a half months of nasty name calling and bickering in that oh-so-shallow and quintessential Hollywood style. But I think out of all the madness a new nerve of creativity was struck - think about it this way: if the WGA and the studios had settled their issue like responsible adults, would we have been treated to comedy gold (and sweet, sweet irony) like this clip from the Colbert Report? I think not.
Like everything else though, being in proximity to the money and power comes at a cost. In a lot of ways California hasn't changed all that much between the days of the Gold Rush and the late 2000s. Namely, that in exchange for the chance to live and work among the huddled masses with the possibility of someday maybe hitting paydirt, you implicitly agree to take what is given and expect nothing more. It's a wonderful little social contract probably drawn up in the lunch room at Paramount by Harry Cohn and David Selznick which has unofficially been grandfathered in to every studio exec ever since.
Did that stop the Writer's Guild of America? No. That's why, after years of apparently bending over for the Hollywood majors who control and produce nearly all content these days, they stood on principle last fall and went on strike, putting many people out of work (literally) and many many more people out of work theoretically (all the estimates about "lost income" centered mainly on money that could've been made off of productions that might've gotten started if everything else had gone exactly according to plan). I count myself in the latter group; there of course were no guarantees of more work had the writers not gone on strike, but put it this way: bringing all episodic TV production and nearly all local, union-sanctioned film production to a halt between November and April was not a recipe for young up-and-comers without plum hereditary connections.
Still, the strike accomplished what it set out to (mostly), and I can't say it hurt me too bad in the long run. In hindsight, I'm sure that if you put it to a vote everybody would've preferred to skip straight to the bottom line and resolve things without a labor stoppage and three and a half months of nasty name calling and bickering in that oh-so-shallow and quintessential Hollywood style. But I think out of all the madness a new nerve of creativity was struck - think about it this way: if the WGA and the studios had settled their issue like responsible adults, would we have been treated to comedy gold (and sweet, sweet irony) like this clip from the Colbert Report? I think not.
| The Colbert Report | Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c | |||
| The Word - (...) | ||||
| ||||
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
The Gym, Lloyd...
Went to the gym for the first time in almost two months. Between a hectic cross-country drive and several weeks of trying to adjust to a new living dynamic, personal fitness had been kind of kicked to the curb. I can't offer a really good reason for why I was avoiding it, which I guess just proves the point about why there was no reason not to try and stay active. Just missed the boat for a little while, but I'm back in a workout groove now. Whether I can stay on track (and push around enough free time on my schedule this summer) to stay on the relay team for the Chicago Triathlon remains to be seen.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Another Life
I could write all night about last week's season finale of Lost. That's a promise, not a threat, although I'm sure some of you out there who either: a) don't watch LOST b) are among those who once watched only to finally tap out, likely midway through the third season or c) know what Lost is but hate it with a fiery passion, would consider it to be a threat. But aside from the fact that none of you would read it, the simple fact that Lost is too much for any one individual to try to wrap his brain around dissuades me from attempting to recap it all. It could be summed up by the following Stewie Griffin monologue:
One moment did catch my eye as a HUGE opportunity blown at first blush - right before one of the key characters, Dr. Jack, was about to drop the hyrdogen bomb down the drill shaft into the energy pocket in a Doc Brown-style attempt to spark a chain-reaction that would unravel the very fabric of the space time continuum and destroy the entire universe (or at least wipe out that little corner of it which contained the plane crash and all subsequent activities of seasons 1-4), all the characters had this really odd, rough moment where they silently looked at each other, mentally saying goodbye. (See why neither I nor you would make it through a whole recap? Look how much mental energy you had to waste just making it through that one sentence! Sorry, I digress.) Anyway, all the characters were quickly making peace with the fact that if this bats&^t insane idea actually worked, they'd instantly vaporize into the nothingness that is an altered space/time reality (or something like that. I'd be more confident if Back to the Future had shown us where Marty McFly was on the verge of disappearing to before his dad manned up and planted one on his future mom). Would that not have been a ridiculously appropriate moment for somebody - ANYBODY - to pull out one of the all-time cult favorite lines of Lost, namely, "See ya in another life" with a slight Scottish brogue. Am I totally alone on this?
Probably.
One moment did catch my eye as a HUGE opportunity blown at first blush - right before one of the key characters, Dr. Jack, was about to drop the hyrdogen bomb down the drill shaft into the energy pocket in a Doc Brown-style attempt to spark a chain-reaction that would unravel the very fabric of the space time continuum and destroy the entire universe (or at least wipe out that little corner of it which contained the plane crash and all subsequent activities of seasons 1-4), all the characters had this really odd, rough moment where they silently looked at each other, mentally saying goodbye. (See why neither I nor you would make it through a whole recap? Look how much mental energy you had to waste just making it through that one sentence! Sorry, I digress.) Anyway, all the characters were quickly making peace with the fact that if this bats&^t insane idea actually worked, they'd instantly vaporize into the nothingness that is an altered space/time reality (or something like that. I'd be more confident if Back to the Future had shown us where Marty McFly was on the verge of disappearing to before his dad manned up and planted one on his future mom). Would that not have been a ridiculously appropriate moment for somebody - ANYBODY - to pull out one of the all-time cult favorite lines of Lost, namely, "See ya in another life" with a slight Scottish brogue. Am I totally alone on this?
Probably.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Quakes For Nothing
This is too easy.
Now, anybody who knows me in the slightest way knows that I've got no love lost for the city of Los Angeles. It's a hell-hole. You know the L.A. you see in the god-awful-yet-totally-awesome Kurt Russell movie "Escape From L.A."? That's the sanitized version of Los Angeles. The place sucks. And not only because of the air quality.
There's also earthquakes. The earth itself is literally trying to shake free of the burden known as Los Angeles County. I say, "Who are we to mess that up?" Some doomsday-types interpret such events to be the expression of a higher power's displeasure with us. Personally, I take it as validation that I got out of Dodge not a moment too soon.
And before certain people out there get started (I'm not gonna name names, but I think we all know I'm talking about Pat Girouard here), there is not a thin line between love and hate. There is, in the words of Dr. House, a Great Wall of China with armed turrets every 50 feet. There are certain things that are just meant to be hated in this world. Los Angeles the city is one of them.
Now, anybody who knows me in the slightest way knows that I've got no love lost for the city of Los Angeles. It's a hell-hole. You know the L.A. you see in the god-awful-yet-totally-awesome Kurt Russell movie "Escape From L.A."? That's the sanitized version of Los Angeles. The place sucks. And not only because of the air quality.
There's also earthquakes. The earth itself is literally trying to shake free of the burden known as Los Angeles County. I say, "Who are we to mess that up?" Some doomsday-types interpret such events to be the expression of a higher power's displeasure with us. Personally, I take it as validation that I got out of Dodge not a moment too soon.
And before certain people out there get started (I'm not gonna name names, but I think we all know I'm talking about Pat Girouard here), there is not a thin line between love and hate. There is, in the words of Dr. House, a Great Wall of China with armed turrets every 50 feet. There are certain things that are just meant to be hated in this world. Los Angeles the city is one of them.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
The Missing Post
Since I missed posting yesterday, does that mean today's has to be twice as long? Survey says no.
Last night was a rough one, mainly due to a bout with what I suppose could most accurately be called "a head-cold". I wasn't particularly sick but I was bone-tired. I'm guessing it was the swine flu. As a result I fell off the strict "one-post-per-day" commitment I struck out with when the blog started. To all loyal readers (in other words, nobody) I pledge to make it up to you somehow.
Meanwhile, in self-evaluating previous posts, I noticed a crucial element was missing - links! What self-respecting blogger doesn't spend hours fine-combing the internet for interesting and enlightening fare (read: the rambling, self-righteous thoughts of other bloggers) and then put up five-word hits telling everybody to go read it. It's the ultimate get-out-of-jail free card - I fulfill my promise (to myself) to put up a blog post, while somebody else has already taken care of the independent thinking and analysis for me!
Kidding aside, there is one blog I do find particularly inspiring and try to catch up with whenever I can - Kung Fu Monkey. I do this not only because of its awesome title, but because the main contributor is a former writer for Bill Cosby who currently works as head writer on the TNT series Leverage. Anybody with serious writing ambitions should check this guy out for his plain-English navigation of the s&*tstorm that is trying to land steady work as writer in Hollywood. As a true renaissance man (he holds a degree in Physics and has dabbled in stand-up, film, TV, comics, and video games), he's got a unique take on what clicks and what doesn't in the world of arts and entertainment, but his thoughts don't stop there. Do I rank him as one of my writing heroes? Well, he's the savant behind such classic scripts as American Outlaws and Halle Berry's Catwoman. So...no. But there are a lot of interesting takes on a lot of subjects to be found. It's the kind of site that typifies what a "blog" should be: minimize the soapboxing without wading down into the "when I woke up I had a bowl of cheerios" personal tracking data that belongs on Twitter (although it actually belongs nowhere, but that's a rant best saved for another post).
This was one of KFM's more enlightening posts, on the process of hiring writers for Leverage - if nothing else it underscores the shark tank world of Hollywood, as they fielded 210 potential applicants for four staff jobs (that's a 2% hire rate for those keeping score). Of course, it stopped at 210 only because they stopped taking apps, not because there weren't about 700 more aspiring writers out there ready and willing to take their cuts. Most of the time, getting the "big break" centers around being lucky enough to be among the 10% of potential employees who get the chance to be among the 2% of people who actually get hired.
Last night was a rough one, mainly due to a bout with what I suppose could most accurately be called "a head-cold". I wasn't particularly sick but I was bone-tired. I'm guessing it was the swine flu. As a result I fell off the strict "one-post-per-day" commitment I struck out with when the blog started. To all loyal readers (in other words, nobody) I pledge to make it up to you somehow.
Meanwhile, in self-evaluating previous posts, I noticed a crucial element was missing - links! What self-respecting blogger doesn't spend hours fine-combing the internet for interesting and enlightening fare (read: the rambling, self-righteous thoughts of other bloggers) and then put up five-word hits telling everybody to go read it. It's the ultimate get-out-of-jail free card - I fulfill my promise (to myself) to put up a blog post, while somebody else has already taken care of the independent thinking and analysis for me!
Kidding aside, there is one blog I do find particularly inspiring and try to catch up with whenever I can - Kung Fu Monkey. I do this not only because of its awesome title, but because the main contributor is a former writer for Bill Cosby who currently works as head writer on the TNT series Leverage. Anybody with serious writing ambitions should check this guy out for his plain-English navigation of the s&*tstorm that is trying to land steady work as writer in Hollywood. As a true renaissance man (he holds a degree in Physics and has dabbled in stand-up, film, TV, comics, and video games), he's got a unique take on what clicks and what doesn't in the world of arts and entertainment, but his thoughts don't stop there. Do I rank him as one of my writing heroes? Well, he's the savant behind such classic scripts as American Outlaws and Halle Berry's Catwoman. So...no. But there are a lot of interesting takes on a lot of subjects to be found. It's the kind of site that typifies what a "blog" should be: minimize the soapboxing without wading down into the "when I woke up I had a bowl of cheerios" personal tracking data that belongs on Twitter (although it actually belongs nowhere, but that's a rant best saved for another post).
This was one of KFM's more enlightening posts, on the process of hiring writers for Leverage - if nothing else it underscores the shark tank world of Hollywood, as they fielded 210 potential applicants for four staff jobs (that's a 2% hire rate for those keeping score). Of course, it stopped at 210 only because they stopped taking apps, not because there weren't about 700 more aspiring writers out there ready and willing to take their cuts. Most of the time, getting the "big break" centers around being lucky enough to be among the 10% of potential employees who get the chance to be among the 2% of people who actually get hired.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Original Six
Thanks to the Red Wings 4-3 win over the Ducks tonight in a feisty Game 7 of their semifinal series, Detroit will play Chicago in a matchup of two Original Six teams; this will be the first time a pair of the NHL's super six pack will play to determine a conference champion for the first time since 1995, when the two teams were...Detroit and Chicago. Maybe it is like Lost said it would be - no future and no present, just the past, repeating itself over and over.
Well, assuming the Red Wings win 4-1 again, that is.
Well, assuming the Red Wings win 4-1 again, that is.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
They Faded to WHAT?!?!
For those of you who don't watch LOST, now we know they must be serious - they concluded tonight's final episode with a bang, and ditched the industry standard "fade to black" for what I personally feel is a much cooler fade to white. Brings to mind one of the all-time great fade to white moments (T-Mac, this is for you...)
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Whose History is It Anyway?
I mentioned yesterday my overall impressions of Citi Field were quite positive, but there were a couple of things about this new Flushing Meadows beauty that didn't quite jive for me. Specifically, I was caught wondering on more than one occasion just what specifically the Mets were trying to honor.
The impressive, beautifully rendered exterior of the park harkens back to the old Ebbets Field (above; see below and note the resemblance), home of the Brooklyn Dodgers, which was demolished shortly after Walter O'Malley, exasperated by attempts to get the city of New York to cooperate on a new stadium for the team, booked it out of town for Los Angeles with the Dodgers in tow. This westward migration, which was soon joined by the Giants and Athletics plus expansion franchises in San Diego, LA, and Seattle, was one of the watershed moments in the creation of modern baseball as we know it, but that's a story for another time and place. How, precisely, does this relate to the Mets?
Inside the main entrance it gets a little stranger. The charmless concrete ramps of Shea have been replace by what I'm guessing is an architect's rendering of what the pearly gates would look like if He insisted they become equipped with escalators. Historical photographs and motivational quotes line the the rotunda's exquisite walls and floors of marble, all geared to a salute for one of the great heroes in baseball history: Jackie Robinson. Ah yes, who could forget his glory years with the...Brooklyn Dodgers. Jackie Robinson played his last game of professional baseball in New York City five years before there was ever a Met to meet. So what's the story?
Now, it's not like Jackie Robinson belongs to one team alone. His is the only number retired by every Major League Baseball team. He left a legacy that goes way beyond the simple definitions of where he played and for how long. But while a tribute to Robinson and the romantic notion of a by-gone era which Ebbets Field represents were impressive, dare I say there was a crucial element that had gone missing amid all the opulence of Citi Field and its grand concourse: the Mets themselves.Officially the Ebbets-Citi connection could be explained by the fact that the Mets were the team that restored National League baseball to New York City, thus a tribute to those who came before was appropriate while making sure no luxury gets left behind. After all, the main reason the Mets exist today is because of NYC's staunch refusal to back off a demand that O'Malley build his new stadium in Flushing and share the revenue with the city (he preferred to stay in Brooklyn with a domed stadium that he alone held ownership over; New York balked at his requests, but as I can persoanlly attest they'll go for anything in Los Angeles, and as a result Sandy Koufax became a Hollywood icon). So when NL play was restored to the sprawl of Long Island five years after the Dodger/Giant exodus, the new stadium was precisely where city boss Robert Moses wanted it and the rest is history.
It's beautiful to look at for sure, but something about the excessive attention to detail in recreating the Ebbets Field exterior just screams like a team grasping for straws. It's almost like the Mets figured 'The Yankees spared no expense in a modern-yet-classic redo of their 1920s stadium, so we might as well follow suit'. Realizing that they had abosultely no contributions to the first seven "innings" of Ken Burns' Baseball to call their own, they borrowed some from the Dodgers.
Which, again, would make sense had O'Malley pulled an Art Modell and dumped Brooklyn to create a glorified spin-off franchise in Los Angeles. But the Dodgers are still the Dodgers out at Chavez Ravine, and if somebody's gonna pay homage to 50 years of Brooklyn baseball, shouldn't it be the club which actually played in Brooklyn at that time? And it's not like the Mets don't have a legacy of their own to celebrate - two World Series titles, each of which is easily among the most dramatic in baseball history, plus a slew of larger than life characters ranging from Nolan Ryan to "I'm Keith Hernandez", and who could forget Lenny Dykstra? (Okay, maybe you don't want to be associating with him right now). I guess what I'm saying is that there were options behind the standard - and somewhat oddly placed - love letter to Dodger icons.
Joe McKenna, your thoughts?
Monday, May 11, 2009
Meet the Mets
Riding the wave of nostalgia for ye olden ballparks that has swept over New York City (and, let's face it, all of major league baseball) the New York Mets recently unveiled a gorgeous $850 million dollar love letter which, unlike its predecessor Shea Stadium and its namesake corporation, will be in no need of a bailout. Since Fallon and I had little to do on Mother's Day after the obligatory (and richly deserved, I might add) phone calls home, we decided to drop in at the newest hangout just a stone's throw away from John Rocker's favorite MTA subway line.
I had two major objectives on Sunday. A breakdown of what they were and how we made out:
As far amenities, Brian and I made a point to visit the food court where a local legend was growing - a legend known as the Shake Shack. As a recent emigre to the east coast I'd never heard of this, but to offer some context for you Chicago/L.A. types, this place is like a cross between Giordano's Pizza and the In'n'Out. Locals practically speak in a whisper about it; throw in the type of lines you might find at Pink's on La Brea during a hot Saturday in Los Angeles, and the myth is one of epic proportions. Even the website for this place is keen to remind you of how long you'll have to wait.
So what is Shake Shack? A burger and milkshake joint, primarily, with some hot dogs on the menu for variety. I did not taste their "cleverly" titled Shack-ago Dog, but on its face I'd offer the seal of approval for descriptions: Vienna all-beef on a poppy seed bun with mustard, relish, onion, cucumber, pickle, sport peppers, and celery salt. Sounds promising, but as we all know there are many pretenders to the "Chicago style" throne. Not all are worthy.
The Shake Shack got its start (and is still thriving) inside of Madison Square Park in downtown Manhattan; Citi Field is its third location. The greatest accomplishment I guess you can afford these guys is that the burgers are so good people will waste money just to get inside Citi Field and then stand in line for one. I mean, really stand in line. I felt like I was about to join the queue for Toy Story Midway Mania! when I saw the mass of humanity. I've admittedly not been to every pro sports stadium, but I'm pretty sure I've found the only one that felt the need to set up an extended rope line for a concessions stand. Maybe the patrons were unaware that a baseball game was being played - but then again, the Mets addressed this contingency by adding a video screen on the back of the main scoreboard to face all those waiting in line at the Shake Shack.
Since Fallon and I had no particular allegiance to the on-field result (the Mets wound up winning comfortably 8-4) we waited in line. And waited. And waited. About 25 minutes later we approached the counter and were promptly greeted with the fact that one of the famous shakes was gonna cost us $6.50. Now we really were in a scene from Pulp Fiction. I wanted to do a quick double-check with the cashier just to make sure they weren't sneaking something in on the side. A shake is, after all, milk and ice cream. We can haggle over quality of the ingredients, and I'm sure the Shack prides itself on top-quality grade items, but I have a difficult time imagining how any combination of milk and ice cream is worth $6.50. So we passed and instead picked up one of the famous Shake Burgers for only the slightly less ludicrous price of $5.75 (for a single; a double would've been preferable, but it cost a whopping $8.75). Even allowing for the inevitable supply-and-demand price jack which applies in three distinct places (sports arenas, airports, and Disney theme parks), these prices were out there. All told it took more than 30 minutes and almost two full innings, not to mention clost to $20 when you include fries, to obtain a Shake Shack burger. Would the meat and cheese live up to the hype?
Eh, yes and no. Price gouging aside, this was a quality burger (one might have even said, "MMM, this is a tasty burger!") To describe the taste for those of who weren't there, it was very much on par with what you might get at Culver's, almost with a really rich "buttery" feel to the bun and a somewhat crisp touch on the meat. I wouldn't be eager to waste almost one-third of the baseball game to get one again, but don't interpret that as a slight - not many things would be on that list, least of all a burger that despite all promises to the contrary falls short of being "the greatest thing ever created". It was good, but not that good.
I've got more thoughts on Citi Field, specifically the sometimes odd disconnect between the franchise occupying it and baseball history, which apparently didn't bother any of the Met brain trust. Then again, these are the guys who entrusted their team to Jerry Manuel (snark!). I'll save further rumination on the House that The Collapsed Banking Industry Built for another post. In the meantime, I encourage all of you in the greater NY area to step on up and greet the Mets!
I had two major objectives on Sunday. A breakdown of what they were and how we made out:
- To hear, live as it was intended to be heard, a full-throated rendition of the original recording of "Meet the Mets". If you're unfamiliar with this ditty, a brief primer can be found here. There's something delightfully corny about a professional sports franchise in the largest city in America attaching itself to a song that sounds like a cross between Main Street USA's Dapper Dans and the banjo players from Deliverance, with a strong dose of 1961-era Big Bands thrown in for no apparent reason. For a reason I can't quite pinpoint, it would be impossible for any other team to get away with this, but for the Mets it couldn't have been a better fit. They went through the full-out sing along with requisite "follow-the-bouncing-ball lyrics" only once during the game, but when meeting the Mets, once is never enough.
- To watch the Big Apple itself rise from center field. Unfortunately this proved difficult from our seats in the "Left Field Landing" area, which didn't offer much of an angle into the apple's home beyond the batter's eye in center field. Also complicating matters was the lack of a home run by the Mets, which is the only time the apple rises (to my knowledge; it may come out pre-game or after a Met victory, but some LA-habits die hard: I arrived late and left early. Oh well.) The preserved "old" apple and the accompanying New York skyline are on display in the center field food court.
As far amenities, Brian and I made a point to visit the food court where a local legend was growing - a legend known as the Shake Shack. As a recent emigre to the east coast I'd never heard of this, but to offer some context for you Chicago/L.A. types, this place is like a cross between Giordano's Pizza and the In'n'Out. Locals practically speak in a whisper about it; throw in the type of lines you might find at Pink's on La Brea during a hot Saturday in Los Angeles, and the myth is one of epic proportions. Even the website for this place is keen to remind you of how long you'll have to wait.
So what is Shake Shack? A burger and milkshake joint, primarily, with some hot dogs on the menu for variety. I did not taste their "cleverly" titled Shack-ago Dog, but on its face I'd offer the seal of approval for descriptions: Vienna all-beef on a poppy seed bun with mustard, relish, onion, cucumber, pickle, sport peppers, and celery salt. Sounds promising, but as we all know there are many pretenders to the "Chicago style" throne. Not all are worthy.
The Shake Shack got its start (and is still thriving) inside of Madison Square Park in downtown Manhattan; Citi Field is its third location. The greatest accomplishment I guess you can afford these guys is that the burgers are so good people will waste money just to get inside Citi Field and then stand in line for one. I mean, really stand in line. I felt like I was about to join the queue for Toy Story Midway Mania! when I saw the mass of humanity. I've admittedly not been to every pro sports stadium, but I'm pretty sure I've found the only one that felt the need to set up an extended rope line for a concessions stand. Maybe the patrons were unaware that a baseball game was being played - but then again, the Mets addressed this contingency by adding a video screen on the back of the main scoreboard to face all those waiting in line at the Shake Shack.
Since Fallon and I had no particular allegiance to the on-field result (the Mets wound up winning comfortably 8-4) we waited in line. And waited. And waited. About 25 minutes later we approached the counter and were promptly greeted with the fact that one of the famous shakes was gonna cost us $6.50. Now we really were in a scene from Pulp Fiction. I wanted to do a quick double-check with the cashier just to make sure they weren't sneaking something in on the side. A shake is, after all, milk and ice cream. We can haggle over quality of the ingredients, and I'm sure the Shack prides itself on top-quality grade items, but I have a difficult time imagining how any combination of milk and ice cream is worth $6.50. So we passed and instead picked up one of the famous Shake Burgers for only the slightly less ludicrous price of $5.75 (for a single; a double would've been preferable, but it cost a whopping $8.75). Even allowing for the inevitable supply-and-demand price jack which applies in three distinct places (sports arenas, airports, and Disney theme parks), these prices were out there. All told it took more than 30 minutes and almost two full innings, not to mention clost to $20 when you include fries, to obtain a Shake Shack burger. Would the meat and cheese live up to the hype?Eh, yes and no. Price gouging aside, this was a quality burger (one might have even said, "MMM, this is a tasty burger!") To describe the taste for those of who weren't there, it was very much on par with what you might get at Culver's, almost with a really rich "buttery" feel to the bun and a somewhat crisp touch on the meat. I wouldn't be eager to waste almost one-third of the baseball game to get one again, but don't interpret that as a slight - not many things would be on that list, least of all a burger that despite all promises to the contrary falls short of being "the greatest thing ever created". It was good, but not that good.I've got more thoughts on Citi Field, specifically the sometimes odd disconnect between the franchise occupying it and baseball history, which apparently didn't bother any of the Met brain trust. Then again, these are the guys who entrusted their team to Jerry Manuel (snark!). I'll save further rumination on the House that The Collapsed Banking Industry Built for another post. In the meantime, I encourage all of you in the greater NY area to step on up and greet the Mets!
Friday, May 8, 2009
Fortune Cookie Says...
...your existence has made a positive contribution to the Earth. No joke, that was actually what the fortune cookie said at the really bad Chinese buffet I went to this evening. Although I guess you get what you pay for, and trust me when I say it was cheap. The only qualm I have with this is that it seems to have framed my fortune in the past tense. I have "made" a positive contribution...but what does this say about my future prospects? Details at 11.
For those curious minds wondering why the Milwaukee Brewer Brats no longer roam the halls of ESPN, maybe it's because they creep Stuart Scott out...
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Just a Rookie Trying to Make it Out of Camp
The first few days at a new position within Walt Disney Company are about orientation. No surprise there, I guess, but then again this isn't the usual cut and dry "this is your desk and there's the bathroom" office introduction. The opening salvo at Disneyland was a blur of walking tours, company history & policy, and cheeky moments like having everybody's favorite costumed mouse hand you your ID badge. ESPN may skimp a little on the theatrics (I doubt they're gonna pay Mickey's per diem to fly out to Bristol every two weeks), but like everything else that comes in contact with the Disney culture, there's a firm (and completely accurate) belief that the employees are part of a grand, some might say cosmic, plan to produce the very best at all times. Orientation is the first step.
Welcome to Rookie Camp!
Now, the good news is that this is one camp that you can't get cut from...although I suppose you could. It would be pretty hard, but I'm sure there are a few who've wandered into it and decided that it was all just a little too Stepford-ish for them and booked it out of town. The two-day "camp" was structured in much the same way as "Traditions" is done for Parks & Resorts, which made even more sense when I was told that one of the grand architects of it had previously worked in Hotels for WDW in Florida (that's Walt Disney World for those of you who aren't into the whole brevity thing). To some of my fellow Cast Members, I'm happy to report that such Traditions classics as the Disney "sizzle" video were displayed, plus familiar standbys "Working with Integrity" and the "Legal Standards & Practices" video. Other time-honored favorites such as "The Disney Look" and the sexual harassment video unfortunately did not make the cut.
On the whole, the point they were emphasizing, and having prior knowledge of Disney practices leads me to think it was no coincidence, was that working here is not just any old job. It's interesting as I start to move further and further into the world of a "career" such as it were how certain places will emphasize a top-down atmosphere and others will go in the opposite direction. Disney, in every division I've come across, at least wants its employees thinking that the place is made from the ground up, that the tone is set by the content and those who produce it, whether that's a national nightly sportscast or a tightly-orchestrated show put on in 6 minute increments in Fantasyland. Where ESPN is concerned, that's an ethos that can come in very helpful for an organization that proclaims itself the worldwide leader of its field (and not without merit, mind you).
Sometimes it's really easy to feel like the big, indifferent machine just swallowed you whole, especially when working inside a company where profits by can drop by 46% (which they just did)...to a measly $600 million or so. The sheer scope of it leaves you feeling very, very small. Rookie Camp and the other programs like it have you primed to start work with the opposite feeling - you're not small, you're unique. Yes, a needle in a very large haystack, but that's what people are looking for, isn't it? As Don Draper told his clients in Mad Men: "You want to be the needle in the haystack. Not the haystack."
Welcome to Rookie Camp!
Now, the good news is that this is one camp that you can't get cut from...although I suppose you could. It would be pretty hard, but I'm sure there are a few who've wandered into it and decided that it was all just a little too Stepford-ish for them and booked it out of town. The two-day "camp" was structured in much the same way as "Traditions" is done for Parks & Resorts, which made even more sense when I was told that one of the grand architects of it had previously worked in Hotels for WDW in Florida (that's Walt Disney World for those of you who aren't into the whole brevity thing). To some of my fellow Cast Members, I'm happy to report that such Traditions classics as the Disney "sizzle" video were displayed, plus familiar standbys "Working with Integrity" and the "Legal Standards & Practices" video. Other time-honored favorites such as "The Disney Look" and the sexual harassment video unfortunately did not make the cut.
On the whole, the point they were emphasizing, and having prior knowledge of Disney practices leads me to think it was no coincidence, was that working here is not just any old job. It's interesting as I start to move further and further into the world of a "career" such as it were how certain places will emphasize a top-down atmosphere and others will go in the opposite direction. Disney, in every division I've come across, at least wants its employees thinking that the place is made from the ground up, that the tone is set by the content and those who produce it, whether that's a national nightly sportscast or a tightly-orchestrated show put on in 6 minute increments in Fantasyland. Where ESPN is concerned, that's an ethos that can come in very helpful for an organization that proclaims itself the worldwide leader of its field (and not without merit, mind you).
Sometimes it's really easy to feel like the big, indifferent machine just swallowed you whole, especially when working inside a company where profits by can drop by 46% (which they just did)...to a measly $600 million or so. The sheer scope of it leaves you feeling very, very small. Rookie Camp and the other programs like it have you primed to start work with the opposite feeling - you're not small, you're unique. Yes, a needle in a very large haystack, but that's what people are looking for, isn't it? As Don Draper told his clients in Mad Men: "You want to be the needle in the haystack. Not the haystack."
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
On the Other Side of the Wall...
Anytime you begin a new phase in your career there's an adjustment period. At first you find it difficult to escape those funky "What am I doing here?" moments, particularly when it's a place that has a long-standing public profile, always out of sight but never out of mind. I wouldn't go so far as to say you feel like you don't belong, but there are places that carry a certain, 'Pinch me, is this really happening?' vibe.
That was certainly the case when I started at Parks & Resorts. Then again, how could it not be? In the blink of an eye I was suddenly on the other side of the wall. You know what I mean. You visit attractions at Disneyland, or at Epcot in Florida, and you pass through an area that's labeled "Cast Members Only" - usually this gets gussied up in theming, i.e. at Space Mountain it's "Astronauts Only Beyond This Point", or in the Disney-MGM Studios they put up a lot of "CLOSED SET!" signs. The point is the same - this is the line you do not cross. Ever.
Then one day you find yourself dumped on the opposite side of that line and it's like you've just wandered backstage at the circus. I remember one of the first times I got to go into the backstage area of Disneyland. I was sitting at the cast cafe and, no joke, two seats down from me was Aladdin and the Genie. Eating lunch as if it were the most normal thing in the world. To describe it as a surreal moment would be dramatically underselling it.
Now despite what the commercials would have you believe, you don't walk down the hallways and see LeBron James trying to fix the copier, or Dale Earnhardt Jr. offering free tech support, or the Milwaukee Brewer Brats in the cafeteria at ESPN (though it would be sweet if you did). But much as was the case at Disneyland, you instantly feel like you've crossed over to the other side of the line. Suddenly a place that didn't really exist - it was always "that place" on the other side of the line - is not only there but has now let you become a part of it. People who were previously just a face on TV or a voice on the radio are now your colleagues. You've become part of a global brand that's consumed every day by people who speak every language and crosses every barrier. That's pretty cool when you stop to think about it. Just for a moment though, because the biggest line you crossed is the one that separates consumer from producer. Now you're not just a fanboy - you've got a job to do.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Will Today be the Day?
Will today be the day that starts the rest of the days? The day you do 50 sit-ups before you walk out the door? The day you put on a suit? Lose the suit? The day you don't hit 'snooze'? The day you feel relieved? Taller? Wonderfully nervous? Will today be the day that starts the rest of the days?
Monster.com's ad slogan used to be "Today's the day." Really miss that campaign...
What's up everybody? Since I recently went through a major change in status and location, I figured one way to keep the mind limber would be some daily journal keeping in blog format. This also helps me keep in touch with all the family and friends who might be wondering what I'm up to when I can't seem to manage a reply to a phone call or e-mail, which is pretty much all the time (I can hear you all thinking to yourself "Aww, how sweet. He thinks we're actually going to read this thing.")
It's been, to put it mildly, a hectic three weeks. Over the course of less than a month I've gone from living in Los Angeles, CA to Bristol, CT, a 3000-mile change accomplished with a little grit, a dash of luck, and a willingness to cram all my stuff into the Montero and book it out of town as fast as humanly possible. It was the kind of stretch that makes you think of that old John Lennon lyric, "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans."
So almost two years after graduating, I'm finally able to lock down a job in sports broadcasting at this energetic little start-up known as ESPN, Inc. This comes after a year of working elsewhere in the Walt Disney Company as a Cast Member in Parks & Resorts (The Disneyland Resort, to be precise.) I'll be dropping in to write pretty much every day for the duration of my time here in Bristol, which is scheduled to last six months - but who knows what's gonna happen down the road? Thirty days ago I'd never thought I'd be here, so 180 days seems like an eternity.
Ah, but it's not. Lest we get too laissez-faire, I've established two basic goals to keep up with on the blog:
1) To try and keep a daily record of thoughts and activities that my family and friends can use to stay in touch (which might be aiming a little too high. If I manage to get five different people to view this site once I'll consider it a moral victory.)
2) To write five pages daily for the screenplay I've been working on (this would be a completely and utterly pathetic cliche back in Los Angeles, but now I'm a distinguished writer who's taken a sabattical from the smog and disgust to clear his head in rural Connecticut...alright, fine, I'm a cliche. Still.) But I've talked about this idea long enough, and today is the day that is going to start the rest of the days. Every day, a blog post. Every day, no matter how painful it is to sit and write, five pages. If I turn around the following day and delete 'em, fine. But five pages, every day, no excuses.
Today is the day that starts the rest of the days...
Monster.com's ad slogan used to be "Today's the day." Really miss that campaign...
What's up everybody? Since I recently went through a major change in status and location, I figured one way to keep the mind limber would be some daily journal keeping in blog format. This also helps me keep in touch with all the family and friends who might be wondering what I'm up to when I can't seem to manage a reply to a phone call or e-mail, which is pretty much all the time (I can hear you all thinking to yourself "Aww, how sweet. He thinks we're actually going to read this thing.")
It's been, to put it mildly, a hectic three weeks. Over the course of less than a month I've gone from living in Los Angeles, CA to Bristol, CT, a 3000-mile change accomplished with a little grit, a dash of luck, and a willingness to cram all my stuff into the Montero and book it out of town as fast as humanly possible. It was the kind of stretch that makes you think of that old John Lennon lyric, "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans."
So almost two years after graduating, I'm finally able to lock down a job in sports broadcasting at this energetic little start-up known as ESPN, Inc. This comes after a year of working elsewhere in the Walt Disney Company as a Cast Member in Parks & Resorts (The Disneyland Resort, to be precise.) I'll be dropping in to write pretty much every day for the duration of my time here in Bristol, which is scheduled to last six months - but who knows what's gonna happen down the road? Thirty days ago I'd never thought I'd be here, so 180 days seems like an eternity.
Ah, but it's not. Lest we get too laissez-faire, I've established two basic goals to keep up with on the blog:
1) To try and keep a daily record of thoughts and activities that my family and friends can use to stay in touch (which might be aiming a little too high. If I manage to get five different people to view this site once I'll consider it a moral victory.)
2) To write five pages daily for the screenplay I've been working on (this would be a completely and utterly pathetic cliche back in Los Angeles, but now I'm a distinguished writer who's taken a sabattical from the smog and disgust to clear his head in rural Connecticut...alright, fine, I'm a cliche. Still.) But I've talked about this idea long enough, and today is the day that is going to start the rest of the days. Every day, a blog post. Every day, no matter how painful it is to sit and write, five pages. If I turn around the following day and delete 'em, fine. But five pages, every day, no excuses.
Today is the day that starts the rest of the days...
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