Monday, August 11, 2003
I suck. But now that I'm in school maybe people will understand. I'm in TO again but this time no whirl-wind-ice-storm-film-fest-freakshow. Honest to goodness root-growing and contact making. Yikes. I am so thrilled to discover that TO hasn't dried out in the years I've been away. Gotta love a city that makes you want to shower...
More later - off to learn about chain-of-title, aquisitions, adaptations etc. Sick thing is : I like this stuff.
posted at 6:08 AM
Wednesday, May 28, 2003
Mad Cow Disease. Baby. SARS. Canadian Film Centre. ReelWorld Film Festival.
Okay. A few things have happened since my last blog. What the hell? When I was a kid it seemed like eternity between Easter and the last day of school. Now that I’m (cough) 35 time just speeds on past me. I feel lucky to keep up at all.
So – ReelWorld. Our screening was surreal. I was completely freaked out, Robin was mildly agitated and Corey pulled out his “Corey – the director” in the performance of a lifetime. It was complete bullshit mind you but a brilliant showing nonetheless -aloof and slightly snarly without resorting to outright arrogance. My greatest fear was that we’d walk into a room of 300 seats and see only 10 warm bodies reading programs just trying to figure out how they could squeeze in another, better movie at the halfway point.
Instead we had about 80 people who laughed in the right places, clapped warmly and asked thoughtful questions at the end. It was great – well, until someone handed me the microphone and I proceeded to swear in a manner usually reserved for white trash reunions. I love it when people laugh uncomfortably because they don’t know what else to do…
Another good thing about ReelWorld was being able to hook up with people I haven’t seen in person for far too many years. I think time has been hitting me in the face a bit lately and it all started in Toronto with this trip. The last time I was actually in the city I was still a “twenty-something”. In my brain everything in Toronto froze as soon as I left. Upon arriving back 9 years later I was truly saddened to see that wasn’t the case. It kept sitting me back on my ass actually. It was physical, tangible evidence that a great deal of time has passed. I think I avoid the reality of time because I’m such a present day thinker. I don’t spend much time dreaming of future things and I don’t spend time looking backwards. Right here, right now are the most pressing issues and my future is pretty immediate. Time in terms of years doesn’t factor in very often so it kind of floors me when I stop and look at it.
Yikes. Enough self-analysis – next.
The Canadian Film Centre. Just can’t get enough of the big smoke I guess. I recklessly applied to the “Producer’s Lab”. Got an interview. Did interview while riding the kind of adrenaline high you can only get from too little sleep and too much insanity on a ridiculously ambitious TV pilot with far too many producers and far too little common sense. I must have done okay because I got in. So now I am wrestling with the logistics of suspending my life in cowtown while I uproot and head to hogtown during the busiest part of the film year. Fucking hell. Life was so much easier in retail.
S.A.R.S. Wouldn’t that be ironic?
Baby. My ex just had one. Okay, she’s 8 months old but I just found out. Well, I actually found out on the same morning that I did my phone interview for the Film Centre. Ha ha. Worked until 4:30am went to bed at 5:30, couldn’t remember if my interview was at 12:30 my time or Toronto time so I took the phone to bed. Awakened by ringing at 8:30. Panic sets in, oops no need it’s only Chris, who I haven’t spoken to in about a year and his baby. Ha ha. Found out 2 weeks later that a wife actually went along with the baby. Ha ha ha etc. Met baby on the long weekend when she came by with mommy to pick up a few things. Daddy is in Vancouver. Ha ha ha ,cough, ha ha ha, hack, ha ha, whew…
Mad Cow Disease. Well that pretty much sums it up. Me. A Mad Fucking Cow. What the hell am I thinking? Why didn’t I pick education or librarian when the guidance counselor asked me what I wanted to do with my life. Come to think of it, I think I said “stage manager” when he asked me. So again – what the hell? How do you end up the proud mommy of a film and a whole pile of debt instead of something the whole world recognizes as important and special. If I could roll “edward” around in a stroller would people understand my choices anymore than they do now? Could they see that I’ve learned more about myself in this single year then I have in the last 10 combined? Would they understand that I won’t be able to stop any of this until I see it all through to the end? ‘Cause this is it folks, I have truly stumbled upon the answer to that maddening, elusive, soul destroying question – “ What do you want to be when you grow up?”
posted at 12:44 AM
Friday, April 04, 2003
Okay. I'm in Toronto again after a 9 year absence listening to the gentle whisper of freezing rain pelting against the double paned windows. I would like to point out to my readers that this is fucking APRIL and it sucks giant ass.The least this city could do was give us some balmy spring weather to wrap our "first Film Festival" memories in. Instead we get freak ice storms, airport closures and SARS...
What the hell?
Is this some crazy karma wheel thing trying to roll us all back into grip, gaffer and locations land? Has some huge cosmic imbalance occured because we have reached out towards the forbidden? I would like to point out to whatever supreme being that thinks this is hilarious, that filmmaking is not like eating contriband ambrosia. It is not sweet and succulent - it is impoverishing and exhausting. We are truly insane to attempt this at all. So back the fuck off already - we don't need you to make this harder.
And one last thing -
People that live here are responding in true Toronto style. I lived here for almost 4 years and one thing always struck me as odd was the permanent state of denial this city has in relation to weather. Every winter was "it's never been this cold here before" and every summer was "it's never been this hot here before". I come back after a painfully long absence and it's: "we've never seen ice pellets like this before".
sigh. The more things change the more they stay the same...well, except for cellulite and crow's feet. Dammit.
posted at 11:45 PM
Friday, January 03, 2003
Wow.
New fundraising idea – pimp Corey out. I’m not referring to the run-of-the-mill, stand-on-the-corner, no-shirt-just-a-leather-jacket type of male whore. That kind of pimping requires constant supervision and unrelenting harassment. While those qualities may be valuable in a producer – I need to save my energy for “edward” and finding money.
The kind of whore I’m referring to is more specialized – the perfect “Wedding Date”. Now, I’ll admit I have been influenced in this by Corey’s recent activities. However, the more I thought about it the more I saw the unlimited fundraising potential. I, of course, relayed my enthusiasm to Corey and received a mixed response. Actually “fuck you” isn’t really all that mixed - but I’m convinced with a well developed marketing plan he will see the merits of this business. In the end we’ll just put it to a vote anyway and I’m sure I know which way Robin will lean.
Corey’s attributes are highly marketable as more and more women head into the “wedding years”. This is the period of time that everyone around you seems to be getting married, or divorced and married again in a more flattering dress. I, myself, am in the middle of these years and manage to avoid invitations by behaving badly in public and flirting outrageously with any man in a ring. The effect on my current reputation may be somewhat negative but it has practically guaranteed that my closet will remain free of peach chiffon and matching pumps. Not all women are this creative or far-thinking, then a reliable, well-groomed date is required and Corey is ideal.
Our standard “Wedding Date” package comes with his own suit, good shoes and a hair-cut your father will approve of and perhaps adopt for his own. There is also a guarantee that he will arrive on time, with his own clean vehicle, a full tank of gas and obey all rules of the road to and from the event. Also standard are: inoffensive conversation, PG rated humour, clean teeth, one dance with an elderly female relative of your choice and a firm handshake for the receiving line. Due to a stated commitment to celibacy, sex is not part of the package rate but there are some specific add-ons available.
Specialty items include:
The Tuxedo Option: comes with a tasteful corsage, eye contact, waltzing and unlimited photo opportunities.
The Grad Option : comes with a limo, unbelievable alcohol tolerance, dirty dancing and one hour without a shirt.
The Reunion Option : comes with a public display of affection, child care, pancake flipping and 4 “famous” actor stories for the benefit of your friends.
We can’t lose, we’ll be tripping over money – although it may take a bit of work to get Corey on board. But after all the question really isn’t - “What will this film do for Corey?” It really is - “What will Corey do for this film?”.
I’ll keep you all posted.
posted at 9:48 AM
Friday, December 20, 2002
So...
"motherfucker" would have been the last words on my lips. Quite a realization that your final testimony in this world would be one of profanity. I'm talking about my near-death experience this evening. I was crossing 16th tonight on my way to Co-op with Fay (my dog) and, in accordance with the recommended pedestrian behavior, I pushed the button to indicate my intention to cross the road. It's pretty simple really - I push the button, yellow lights flash, traffic stops, we step off the curb and walk across the road. Not so this evening. I push the button, yellow lights flash, traffic stops (not quite) and we step off the curb and try to cross the road. I checked the east-bound traffic - it seems to stop, as I step off the sidewalk I look at the west-bound traffic to make sure it is stopping. I hear a noise to my left that can only be described as a car screaming. Four tires lock and brakes shred and this fucking chevette hurtles towards us. It's funny how cliche your life can become in an instant. Time really did slow down, I really felt my heart stop, people at the bus stop really did freeze in horror. The car stopped about a foot from my left thigh. I could have reached out and leaned on the hood if I felt so inclined. The people inside couldn't look at me. The wife did briefly, then looked out her window as though she saw something more interesting on the sidewalk. The driver just stared at the steering wheel and then shook his head like he was mildly irritated that I may have prevented him from completing his Christmas shopping. My mouth was open, having just recently delivered what could have been my parting shot at the world. The bus stop people shouted and then I walked away. Traffic went back to normal and I started to review the tape in my head hoping to insert something more profound or meaningful. Why couldn't I have said something momentous? Something political perhaps? Something obscure? "Kafka was right" or "Rosebud". As far as life flashing before my eyes - well I honestly just thought about Fay and if she'd get hit too. In fact, my leg kind of jerked out awkwardly as if I was trying to kick her out of the way. So great - I have a near-death experience and what happens? I swear profoundly and try to kick my dog. What the hell is wrong with me?
I did realize that I can't really expire just yet. Obviously my poor showing at the "almost died" sweepstakes is an indicator of how much work I need to do before I meet my maker. Who am I? What is my purpose? How can I improve? First thing that pops to mind is my family and telling them I love them, hugs etc. Okay great - it's Christmas I can take care of that. Next. My purpose - well that's a big one. I run around with this 'producer' label attached and what the hell I have I done to deserve that? Edward still isn't done and I haven't tripped over a giant bag of money. In actual fact I think Robin and Corey just gave me a title so people wouldn't bug them when they were shooting. They could just point at me and say "go ask her". I didn't really have to do anything but pretend I had answers. This was where my acting degree came in really handy. So there, that's it, the cat's out of the bag - I'm a big faker. Anyone can call themselves a producer, just attach yourself to some ambitious people and go along for the ride. This thing tonight made me realize that I have to belly up to the bar or let someone else wear the T-shirt. I guess that takes us into improvement. Time to start getting this stage of Edward done. I need to be the money-meeting girl and I need to do it now. Okay, maybe not Christmas day but shortly thereafter. Get off my back - I'm new at this.
posted at 1:42 AM
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