Don’t call it a comeback

Amazingly–considering not much is happening in my life–lots to discuss this eve…

-The Fourth Floor is launched, and no, we are not famous yet. I’m actually not too sure if anyone outside of our friends and family have even seen it. And I definitely have no clue if people like it. I think overall, it’s been a fairly positive but slightly tempered response.

I don’t have a firm grasp on how I feel about the project yet. I think it’s good. Not great, but very solid. I think it’ll only get good-er and solid-er. I like that we’ve done it, and I like that we’re going to continue to improve our craft and hopefully expand our fan-base. And the launch party was fun. And Roosevelt Island loves us.

-To make me feel better about all the non-writing i’m doing, I posted 3 more chapters of The Kings We Are tonight. Then, to maybe rouse my creativity, I read those 3 chapters for the first time in forever. The work for re-writing the novel has mostly consisted of me trying to outline a more cohesive, interesting, and (being totally honest) existing plot. I know these characters and I know what I want them to do and what (for the most part) is going to happen to them. The thing is though, I’ve been ignoring the actual writing part of it. The style, the pacing, the diction… You know, the good stuff! So i think it was good to go back and read through more than i have been. The writing itself is what the agents and editors liked1 … it was that aforementioned lack of plot that fucked me.

Anyway, since i love plot-lacking, i’m gonna move on sans-transition to my next thought… I’ve been wondering if i should focus on the re-writes or on starting a new story. And it’s boiling down to a basic tenant of any art… what am I trying to say? This is a concept that, for me, becomes proportionally more difficult to remember with the length/size of the piece. A blog entry bitching about morons? Easy to stay on point. A rambling, 360-page novel about life, friendship, wisdom and eating… it gets difficult. 2

But if I think that Kings is the best vehicle for getting my theme-of-the-day across, then I think that’s where I should focus my energies. It’s rare for me to get a centralizing-ideal that I can go off about. I’m good at coming up with random scenes and conversations, disjointed ideas that may or may not fit into a bigger puzzle. But finding that common thread that sews them all together? There’s the rub.

This has all been pretty random, but I guess this is my blog, soooooooo bite me.

I’m gonna cut short my other digressions for this entry, cause i’m tired. I will say that after work today, I came home and debated whether to practice playing guitar or to practice playing Guitar Hero. There’s something symbolic in that debate, but, since I ended up rocking out on Guitar Hero and leaving the real thing sulking in the shadows, I don’t think I want to ponder it further.

 

 

 

 

1 this is from the actual, true and amazing story of my “career” when i first moved to new york, and i think i may share it one of these days. It explains why, years later, I haven’t succumbed to law school.

2 A rambling, 500-word blog entry at 2 in morning written while watching sportcenter and eating a honey n’ peanut butter sandwich?… Priceless.

housecleaning

Trying to prove that i’m a new blogging man, a man truly re-dedicated to his craft (if his craft was blogging), here’s some train of thoughts that i don’t want to take to bed with me…
I’ve been splitting my time between not working on Kings We Are re-writes, not working on a new novel, and not working on a children’s book. I’ve probably been not working on the kid’s book the least, so I can tell you that it’s a comedy about math.

This bout of writer’s block/procrastination is different from my usual cases, as I’ve actually had a lot of ideas recently. It’s just that the sheer number of ideas/plot threads/scenes/themes/various-other-literary-building-blocks is causing my, let’s face it, clearly overmatched brain to beg for mercy (i.e., a nap) before I can get many words (i.e., zero) on the page. This is both a frustrating and absolutely fascinating sensation; I honestly feel like I have a good 3 books* inside my head right now. Whether or not they remain trapped will help determine how interesting Elevators Go Up is gonna be. Neo, don’t fail me now.

In other Productive Blogger news, I posted a Scrubs episode a I wrote for a class a couple months ago. Good stuff there (here.)

 

 

*notice i didn’t say “three good books.”

meet the neo

I am a horrible blogger.

This is something that I discovered awhile ago and have stubbornly proved over the course of the last few months. I am not happy about this. I thought that by now I would have legions of Elevators Go Up fans hanging on my every word, looking to me for the latest reasons to procrastinate, mind-expanding political analysis and the shrewdest takes on the news of the day.

Instead, I’ve turned this blog into a tri-annual affair. Just pathetic. Luckily for me and my loyal fan (there’s gotta be one out there, right?), lots and lots has been going on, so there’s plenty to blog about now.

Let’s just put the political analysis on hold for the moment, so I can tell ya’ll ’bout my new toy. Yes friends, I just got myself an Alphasmart Neo, and I couldn’t be happier. In fact, wait for it… wait for it….. I am writing THIS VERY BLOG ENTRY on my shiny Neo. Amazing, I know. And my waiter here at the Shining Star Diner is very impressed, almost spilling some eggs on my lap as he leaned over to gaze in admiration. The cute hostess, however, remains steadfastly unenthused. She’s probably a macbook air sort of girl.

So I welcome you all to a new era, an era filled with slightly-more-reliable-than-sporadic blog entries and chapter after chapter of America’s Next Great Novel. Yes, dear readers, my Neo and I will be a productive dynamo; pages and pages of humor and drama and fucking blogs come’n straight to your face at 75wpm.

Welcome to the revolution.

Oh, and also, The Fourth Floor has officially launched. So check that out too.

a question

So, what’s it all about?

This blog is only a week old and i’m still struggling on how to properly utilize it. Is it simply going to be another writing exercise to spark my other projects? Is it going to be like a diary, full of “Dear Blog” entries where I complain that Ethan was mean to me at school and that I don’t care what anyone thinks, Phil Collins is sorta awesome? Maybe it can be what I secretly hoped but am sorta embarrassed about*–a place where I can discover great truths; about myself and the world and existence and how I think about all of them.

So what’s the point?

That’s the money question about life and about Elevators Go Up.* There’s no better purpose for a blog than for existential pondering, right? The two are made for each other. This space is a willing, unjudging and, most importantly, glued-to-its-seat forum for whatever fears, gripes, wonderments and idiotic thoughts that wander through my brain. I can brood or contemplate or daydream my face off. Whatever mood strikes me, whatever thought consumes me, whatever feeling permeates me–i will now always have a place to confront, dissect and interpret it all.

Yet so far, all i want to do is bitch.

So what’s the point?

I want to bitch about how people at work don’t respect me enough. I want to bitch about how my dad is a moron, and about how the rest of my family judges me too harshly.* I want to bitch that if i’m old enough for my hairline to recede than i should be too old to get a pimple. I want to bitch that people place too much value on money, and then I want to bitch about not having any money. I want to bitch that treadmill etiquette should be like urinal etiquette; there’s no frickin’ reason to use the one right next to me if there’s perfectly usable one down the row. I want to bitch about how life’s not fair, about how good doesn’t always beat bad, about how people are selfish. I want to bitch about how nobody gives the Detroit Pistons enough credit for beating the Lakers in 2004.* I want to bitch about girls and dating and about how married/engaged girls should wear wedding helmets or something, anything more noticeable than a ring because by the time your eyes work down to her finger to discover that ring, you’ve invested enough emotionally to be fairly upset by that aforementioned discovery. I also want to bitch about the fact that i just wrote a rather long list about things i want to bitch about, but i really don’t think that i’ve scratched the surfaced, and that i think that qualifies me as whiny.

I think i bitch too much and it’s time for a change.

And maybe that’s the point.

Hey. My first truth.

 

 

 

 

 

*like the Phil Collins thing

*probably in that order

*Dear Blog, my grandma was mean to me today

*coincidently, Karl Malone is a giant bitch.

 

 

a little venting

Writer’s block is a bitch. So are a lot of people. I’m hoping that one of these truths will lend itself to the other.

To the douchebag from the bar: being racist is not a suitable replacement for having a personality, nor does quoting lines from funny moves make you funny. Like, at all. Seriously. And I think less people would notice how short you are if you weren’t such an ass.*

To the girl constantly complaining that her boyfriends always end up being jerks*: Einstein said that doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results is insanity. I’d call it gold-digging. Trust me, if your stock-broking jerk was a garbage man jerk, he’d be the jerk that you used to date. And the fact that things are going smoother since your trip to Jamaica strengthens my argument, not yours.

 

 

 

 

* yes they would.
* definitely not jennifer.

a clarification

I am going to start a blog because i’m not depressed.

I am not depressed, but I definitely need to write more. I’m not sure how I feel about becoming a blogger, but I figure it may keep me motivated and therefore worth ignoring whatever doubts I may have. I’m also offering up this disclaimer because me writing closely resembles what I would perceive (in others, of course) as depression. Lots of time spent in my darkened office, in my boxer shorts, in front of the computer. But I promise, non-existing readers, that it’s all good. Not wearing pants is my right as a member of a single-occupant apartment, and my distinct pleasure as a human being. I could stand to buy a better lamp though…

So now i have this little bloggy to get the creativity flowing; to have a place to put up whatever stories and scripts and thoughts I feel like forcing onto the general public. It’s also another way to pimp out our new web-based sketch show The Fourth Floor. I already dusted off an old short story and i’m at least halfway done with this here post, so the blog’s already doing it’s job. I’m also gonna use this as a way to re-write the novel I wrote that i swear-to-god almost sold. Of course, I wrote it 4 years ago, and now i hate it, so putting it up for “public” ridicule should be good motivation to make it somewhat decent.

Ok, first post done. I already feel dirty.

And less depressed.

-jmf