09/01 Direct Link
Providence, Rhode Island. Hey Thurston, Are you there? Did you throw it in the can? Sometimes your memory just goes out the fucking window. Thurston? Can you hear me? Me and the boys were playing at the One Up. Yeah, Kill the Poor. We was rockin' em Thurston, the kids here, the kids love it. They've got a real sense for it. Uninhibited, yet they're good kids in Providence. It's a good and weird city that acts like a town. Didja hear about the Mayor? Longest serving Mayor in the United States, I guess. They say he's a real charmer.
09/02 Direct Link
The best thing about school….is doing things your way.

The WaterFire was a success, we, I, the volunteers, all these folks solemnly stoked wood-fed fires in iron baskets down the middle of the Woonsahocket or Mahhasasuck rivers. I'm fucking those names up. We were clad in black like assassins, while throngs of bright-attired 50 year olds plumed the newly minted streets…. ‘The only problem, I called the number, they couldn't tell me proper directions from Boston… and all the right turn lanes here are different!'

Ugh why do I right such journalistic hogwash. Where is the edification! Where is the feeling?

09/03 Direct Link
Ground Zero! Today I vowed to continue my continuation of Hookeriffic, dearest Hookeriffic, a shortish movie-in-the-making, and in order to straighten MY life out, all youse, all wese, is gonna have to sit through a lot of lists and thinking-out-loud strategizing, planning. 1) finish final fine-tooth combover. 2) make 2 number 1, call Damian, send script. 3) call Jerod, send script. 4)finish scene breakdowns. 5) film a short short and edit it. 6) start a journal. 7) project a budget. 8) call Jon Fisher at Co-turns. 9) print this list. 10) place an ad in backstage? 11) no need 11.
09/04 Direct Link
I'm in such a piss-poor fucking mood. It's a bio-rhythm thing or soemthing. For two weeks now I've felt miserable and sickly. Two fucking weeks. I can't goddamn get a THING straight. I am permanently disjointed, all all out of sync all day, every day, and nothing cures it. Not sleep, not conversation, movies, maybe movies, work, not working, Ultimate, girls, fuck fuck fuck. So now, I must 1) call Jerod 2) call Jon fisher and 3) send Jon and jerod scripts. 4) write another short short 5) Jon: 231 w. 29th street #1204, new york, new york 10001. John.
09/05 Direct Link
I haven't had time to do much towards the Hooker. Woke up this morning at 6:30 AM with Girl, JK, then to play a game of Ultimate in Prospect Park at 7am. At 8:15am left on bike for subway, then to city job by 9:00. At job until 7pm, then a ride home and by 8:00 pm I have started to put together the Rivative web page for today. Then to edit Iris's web submission. This is boring. 1) Continue continuing on, finish jobs not started 2) carry notebook and/or log around city for ideas. Ideas? Seems like that's overkill.
09/06 Direct Link
OK, so its overkill. OK so it can't be helped. OK, so it's a natural thing. OK, so it's not a bad thing. OK, so, OK so. OK, right, so the two were indistinguishable, but so far apart, age 19, age 20. One had ben through the pressure, the circumstance, the other was pushing in all the right ways, feeling and pumping his way towards a hopeful victory. And it was as fighter pilots, docked and decked, sharp and straight, fallible, dueling in the verde air, black as death, as smoke. 1) finish 1. 2) finish 2. 3) fuckall, FA.
09/07 Direct Link
Some gal named Eleizabeth called, on her cell, asking for me. Said she's always had an interest in film, you know, but she's in school now, at F.I.T. What could she do to help? Saw the flyer I put up at Tisch. Figured I was a Tisch person. But I'm not, and she's not and…well oh well. Let's really hope this can be pulled off. It feels weirder every day. And the trough - I've fallen between crests – I am poison to teams and fill feeled with thoughts of retribution and mayhem, murder and rage. 1) Mailed script to J&J.
09/08 Direct Link
Beat beat beat. Can I keep. It up. And not fall apart. Puerto Ricans, soavey Italians (Milano), cowboy-hatted thin women, brainless, ugly, shirt too small King of Queens idgit, greasy haired srummers, boy toy faces. Corona, on ice. Black dudes, like Wassup commercials. Black girls, teased hair and bad jewelry, skinny. Big fat mexican mamas. Did nothing on movie today, but there was that call yesterday. Must count for something. Vowed to make some vows towards production. Lets hope I can get that going. Hmm-de-hum-hum. Ho. Hum. Hoo. Hee. Hum Da Hum Hoom, Mum. Dee Da Doo Doo Da Dee.
09/09 Direct Link
Vows to take to heart! 1) Must not make any other vows, or believe that these vows cannot be broken until new vows be made. New vows! 1) Vow to not play internet Euchre. 2) Vow to not watch sports as often, lets say only 2 hours a week, unless Phillies make the playoffs or are playing Atlanta 3) vow to pass on website for three months to Steve, starting in 7 days. 4) Vow not to break vows. 5) Vow to spend at least 1 hour every day on film-related work. 6) vow to make shortest movie for practice.
09/10 Direct Link
Whew, close. Strange bad dreams last night, of a killing. I was in a car, with a friend. We grabbed somebody we knew off the street, in a suburban tree-lined neighborhood, and…and…decided not to shoot him. Instead my faceless partner gouged his eyes out. We left him for dead in the back of the car and walked away. A job completed. Such ghastly thoughts, the thoughts of men. Always for a cause….always for vengeance. So now we know for certain, I feel conviction: Brooklyn College, Certificate of Film, to begin in January. Sent script to Fisher, but the College calls…
09/11 Direct Link
It is Tuesday Evening, Wednesday morning 2 Am in Brooklyn, New York, just a short ways from the Brooklyn Bridge, at the home of Rivative.

I was awoken from a slumberless night at 10:15 am by my chattering housemates. From then it was the TV, and the World Trade Center buildings smoldering images, then to the streets, where scattered groups of people, workers, streamed away from Manhattan-bound subway stations.

The dusty air had people wheezing and covering their mouths as they took quick steps down the sidewalk. People were talking, wondering, trying to get home to watch the news or...

09/12 Direct Link
The thoughts are in unison with the images, and feelings are compromised, like our security. Life is everywhere normal, here, in my room, in my house, in Brooklyn, across America. America - now a word again infused with meaning and not an empty repetitve signature. The normality of daily life, but suffused with these images, and white smoke, with the immediate reactions across the country, friends and family checking in via email and phone. Bitterness and immediacy spring to clarity, but otherwise daily living is lacking, there is no work, there is nothing to strive towards, cinematic thoughts temporarily put-down.
09/13 Direct Link
I got out today and took my bike around lower Manhaatan. It was a boyhood escape. Cars and trucks of all shapes and sizes, rescue vehicles, cranes, bulldozers and shovels, HumVees, police vans, dumptrucks, hundreds of different insignias. Following along on my mountain bike, camera in hand, I managed to catch some of the action. Firefighters, going in towards the smoldering rubble 5 blocks away. Military MPs directing traffic. Doctors in scrubs. Emergency gas and electric workers in thin blue mylar suits, like space travelers. Police in dusty dark blue uniforms. But most of all I noticed the silence. Silence…..
09/14 Direct Link
I awoke this morning to a phone call from my weeping mother. She is shaken and scared, even three days later. She is frightened of the future. And not in a specific way, I think she has a feeling of something awful, a real sense of the - coming? - war. The terror of the images and the reality of her son being close to the attack has centered her heart on dread and fear….I console her by suggesting that we will persevere and we are strong and if it is our time, it is our time. Keep your faith.
09/15 Direct Link
By the hour, disintegration. Decreptiude. Hopelessness. These are my internal feelings, beset by insufficency and directionlessness, wavering, unvectored, freeform bustitoutness, spontaneousness overwhelming, no base, home, place to call, float and die, free and untethered but wanting, wanting, having to have and make complete."I want to snuggle" Duty awaits. Always, hear me, in the moment. Past trails away like a video effect, meaning wrap into one to apex within, there is no then but now, such silliness bounds me, tried and true, when the biorythyms convulse. Nonsense scribble, re-read and dropped overboard, trying to grasp and retain, and be, and remain.
09/16 Direct Link
I have been tacitly recruited to join the efforts of my bleeding-heart, guilt-driven, peace-loving roommate Steve in his somewhat unfocused quest to deflect intolerance of Arab-Americans. Or rather to promote interfaith unity between Americans of all religions and ethnicities, notwithstanding his own secular nature. He has started a website, and is making posters to pass out on the street that say "Did you know? Allah = God. Same God!" For the kiddies, natch. It irks me to be with such shameful hippie meddling, but I have found a tolerance in shooting vigil videos (yuck) and gussying up the website.
09/17 Direct Link
Stupid madness. I try to recover my je ne sais quoi - it comes at will and leaves without a note - and idiots get drunk and smoke reefers, and cat pissings, frisbee throwings, can not the stupid people understand? Can not the mystery manifest? When will the answers be clear? When will ladies suck my toes? Such tragic thoughts, such tragic response, such madness, such madness beyond my control, but there must be a key. You read me now, don't you? I'll try not to be so obvious next time. Its clear there are problems waiting to be resolved.
09/18 Direct Link
The days get longer now that I have a job focing me to get up at 8am. And still the city is charged with the hint of terrorism. Everyone is supicious, the fun never ceases guessing who might do what when and how. If the façade continues to crumble, be prepared for some unraveling of the American psyche, some hate crimes against all races as the lower classes become immersed in fear and anger. But for now, unity binds New York. Everyone I look at is different; I despise them all, and to each I bond. It's a hopeless juxtaposition.
09/19 Direct Link
It's tough to keep a consistent work, train of thought, daily commute, a monthly dedication. Look what happened to my film aspirations? My journal? My log? No more. But I sold it, traded it for an application to Brooklyn College for next semester. Such a sad life. I should have done this 5 years ago. What tha fuck? Slow, slow, slow, uh, whats that called? Oh yeah, late bloomer. Godfuckdamnfatwa that term. Look, I'm ready for war. Let's mix some shit up. Let's get it going-on. Send me out there, I really don't have much but rotating shifts of whocares.
09/20 Direct Link
Another day here, oops night. Still the tragedy bears down, but it feels over. All I want to do now is get a reliable gas mask. I'm sure they are pretty much sold-out in the metro area. Gotta get one online. Heard the Bush speech. Now we're gonna not give Afghanistan a chance. Now, as a journliast reported from Pakistan, its gonna be trouble. Why does America have to have such an insecurity complex? We are an overly strict, hypocritical Uncle turning the world into warped children. We make 'em, we give 'em arms, scold and decry them, bomb, bomb.
09/21 Direct Link
We'll have to make this fast. I got plans, see, and have to get up early tomorrow to go and kick around at an Ultimate tournament? Must get smokies. Cleats. Pack stuff. Chair, bike. Drugs, like Ibuprofen, Vitamin I that is, and Vitamin Acetaminophen, short for Phen Phen. No. Really, could it? What of it? We are hoping that SUNY Purchase does not get gassed. Must buy that mask. Order. Must order it. This is crappy fucking words, cares, we all care. Do you? cares! Go there and print posters! Make a Steve de la Steve happy and proud.
09/22 Direct Link
Notes from a Frisbee tournament: Quote: "Its kinda good to get away from it. We do a lot of stuff at NYC proper." [Ed. Note: can't read handwriting.] Note: Field space squabble. Ult players get no respect. [Ed. Note: do not use in 100 words, may sound too whiny]. Quote, Taylor Pope: "I think it's a serious sport. Hell Yeah." Note: Dejcted Wesleyan team loses to us. Quote: "Let's take our frustrations out on this high school team!!" "They're in college." "Whatever." Quote, Diane Tucker, Spectator, Publisher of the Fairfield Times: "I love that -- that it's a little more laid-back."
09/23 Direct Link
Another day. I am so tired I cannot possibly write this. Will have to write this when I am in another dimension, one of those wormholes to another time. I am exhausted, physically and entally. A lot of stress. Some running. A whole fuckign day getitng burned by the sun. Some good times, some highlight moments, like chasing that kid Taylor with discs cocked ready to whip it at each other as hard as possible. What else? JK as Scapegoat Hottie, singled out by her near spiritless team to be the karma black hole, forever storing up all that energy.
09/24 Direct Link
Am catching a head cold. Need a days worth of sleep. Am having trouble sleeping now. Viloent images of chasing terrorists across an American plain, maybe somewhere in the Southwest. Then tonite a 10 minute remless sleep, shuttered images of driving a car, and people, and bad things happening. Bad things going to happen, Nasty things , very unsettling, but I was unfazed. It was those worms in my head, those worms that multiply when they are not killed off by restful sleep. Took 2 melatonin, may up it to 3 very soon. Jesus and Mary Chain. Honey's Dead. Heat.
09/25 Direct Link
Illness. I have a head cold. Emilio Estevez is being tortured by space alien operatives, but he's saved by Repo Men. "Society made me do it!" "That's Bullshit. You're a white suburban punk, just like me." "Dr. Benway to surgery" This movie is from a whole notha time, one which I never experinced. I think Gregg Araki must've been heavily influenced by this movie. Reference points are hard to make out. Now where was I? Sickness, sleep and cool cars. Terrorists in the desert, Ultimate, napalm and nuclear weapons. Hotwiring cars. Hail of Ice Cubes south of Downtown. Split 60/40?
09/26 Direct Link
"it's chilly nowadays. I don't know why. I broke my fast already when I was on the phone with you! Sometimes I unconsciously eat Nutella…" I look over - there's a jar w/ a chopstick on top of it… "I'm so bad" - 10 minutes later - "I'm hungry. There's no way. I had no choice." She munches on peanut butter chews, made Asian style. "Cataplexy. When your mind is awake but your body is asleep." So here I am, and it's not so bad. Fall has arrived with the suddenness of the WTC attack. I am once again waiting.
09/27 Direct Link
I'm back again, hooked on playing internet Euchre thru the Yahoo Games portal. I like games. I like Sports. I like competition. I just keep going towards it naturally. I appreciate a world where the rules are known and followed, and you can do your best against the rules and the other people that play. I am good at card gams in this way. Nothing profound here. I work well in environments that are more or less static. I need a bounding box, then I can make it my sandbox. This is what I do. And now welcome me back.
09/28 Direct Link
Turned on by a movie. Indeed. Feeling that rush of feeling after watching Bad Lieutenant. "Must give a little craziness" "Don't you think you're fucking not getting on that fucking bus!" "I've been cheating death since I was 14. I'm blessed." But he's only truly blessed when his life is given to another vector, another lifeforce. His, when all there is left is appetitie, is over in its fullness. The hunger can only be left to feed another life. In any case, I feel repentant towards my uncouth Ultimate writing, my bitterness and insecurity. Time… to turn the other cheek.
09/29 Direct Link
Well, we started late. I blame JR, his number was wrong. So we called a 410 area code repeatedly. No one knows where 410 is. By the time we got to pick up Andy at Kelloggs diner it was 10:20 and we were an hour late. Then the nightmare, devastating standstill of traffic going over the Whitestone bridge. I took the left lane and cruised by 2 miles of deadness, then cut in. It was the only thing to be done. There was a checkpoint, caused the standstill. Welcome to the new war against time and travel. Waved on by.
09/30 Direct Link
A full day: taking the girls shopping and pickle-buying. Then to Canal jeans: a disappointment. An attempt at a movie, tiredness. Before, a new position: revitalization. Good for what aills you. A subway ride. A meal, chicken and leftover Korean pesto-pasta with broccoli. A bike ride with her on rollerblades, thru Prospect Park. Waking up: hazelnut coffee, seeing another Frisbee Friend. Park Slope Community of well-to-lives, not necessarily well-to-dos, but a comfortable and slowly progressive group, even in its bourgeois comfort. Not the business class, nor working class. Skip to the end: "I'm still looking, you know, for…" "I know."