Nov 15, 2005

The Interviewer

I wrote the following in my head last night, when I couldn't sleep.  It's about my job.

Sometimes the Interviewer interviews six people a day.  Some are mothers looking for work, for a little extra cash, while their children are at school. Some are actors who want evening hours, so their days will be free, for the auditions that they're sure will soon be calling.  Some are new arrivals, seeking a foothold in the city.  

The Interviewer is new to the city. Interviewing is his foothold.  

Many of those new arrivals that he interviews soon find themselves in exciting footholds somewhere else, and they turn down the boring foothold that the Interviewer offers.  

The Interviewer wonders why he never got any of those exciting footholds that he was interviewed for.

The Interviewer hires transcriptionists to type what they hear.  What they hear is Entertainment.  Some raw footage from reality television.  Some broadcast news.  Some DVD bonus material.  But mostly, celebrity interviews, promoting this movie or that TV show, discussing this production or that memory, recounting how their career first found a foothold. 

In those transcribed interviews, the celebrity always has a name.  

But the interviewer is always just called "INTERVIEWER."

Nov 7, 2005

I Am Sick of Clocks

Doesn't it bother anyone else on Earth that we go through our entire lives measuring time exactly the same way? Something arbitrary and awkward, persisting through lifetime after lifetime, like a wallpaper that no one cares for, but everyone's too lazy to replace? I'm sick of seconds and minutes and hours and all of it. I'm sick of circles and hands. Give me a fresh outlook on the whole ordeal.

Nov 5, 2005

All Greek to Thee...

So much to do, and so few people to share it with...

Some people will follow small snatches of this update, but in whole, this post means nothing to nobody but
me. I wish it did.

I want to revise the main Misplaced Planet page (it's already 25% done, in secret). I want my sounds and
audio page up, playing MP3s. I want lyrics restored to the writing section. I want my productions page upgraded. I want Storybook Park to have its own animation on WilderWorks. I want my Bio and Resume section to not look silly anymore.  I want Stirling to send me a new design for OMKF, so I can implement the many changes I've imagined for it.

We have our podcast up, transmitting video, which for now means Brains!! We have the trailer up for the horror movie, Antebellum. We have a composer working on the score for Momentary Engineering. We have the script for the Sci-Fi Short Film Contest hammered out, and that's probably going to be called Signal Decay. A million baby spiders and a dental office. I have must coming in for podcasting and hosting, from Gwynne, from Caroline, from Stirling, and even some good-old radio from Sodini.

I want Darwin's Kids DVDs. I want the Alumni Special filmed. I want a Reunion Special filmed. I want to
rewrite and refilm A Kingdom by the Sea, because the trailer I found is so cool, so unfulfilled. I want Anniversary Dinner edited.

Now, Storybook Park is done and off to competitions. I want to win. I want an agent. I want to stir up interest. I know what I want to do with A Darkling Plane, which includes reverting to the title Burying
Amelia Waverly
, and making it a pure supernatural thriller. I feel Cusp of Aquarius really taking shape, all on its own, particularly with the concept of Claire predicting her own death, perhaps even publicly staking her career on it (as per the article from India). It will be a romance with a sting of sadness. Meanwhile, I was bizarrely inspired by a couple desktop icons, and suddenly I know what I want to do with Intelligence,
which has set stagnant for three years. All I I can say is "1950s Pulp Science Fiction Extravaganza," and those are the magic words that revive an idea almost eight years old.

If Caroline ever returns, takes the job I've offered her, and finally settles into a routine of writing something other than Broadway musicals, maybe Ladies & Gentlemen or Insignificant Others will return to
the land of the living. Maybe we could figure out that story about When the Oil Runs Out. Which would leave the only projects in remission Occult Blood and Blaring Static.  Of course, I can't imagine a time when I would touch either of those again. One is flawed but finished. The other is great (in my estimation) but unfinishable, a ragged expression, never to be a clean, tight little package.

So much. So much. The lists are always longer than the sheets of paper I tear off to doodle them down
on. And still, I work 4 hours on Saturday at The Transcription Company, so that I can spend the money I make on keyboards for writing... And the most that I write are unintelligible itineraries of what might be, what might be, if I could just find the time.