ONE
I like that the best bet at a Casino is to not play. It gives me a good reason to sit around my hotel room in my underwear, writing.
Know who else gets a lot of writing done in casinos? Woody Allen.
Know who else compares me to Woody Allen? My mom.
TWO
I have a habit of finding one place where I like to eat and then never eating anywhere else ever again. In Atlantic City, that place is the Asian fusion restaurant in Caesar's, which is called KWI.
The first time I was in Atlantic City, I went on a tour of casinos because I'd read in a book that doing this was cheaper than gambling.
When I went through Caesar's, this place smelled amazing. I promised myself that if I won enough money to afford it, I would come back and have a meal. That night, I got exTREMEly lucky on the river, and so the next day I had lunch at the place.
It. Was. Amazing. I ate with a bunch of Asian-New Jerseyite high rollers and one of them shared his snow pea tips with me. The - Best Korean barbeque. Some other thing that wasn't on the menu that I don't remember that was delicious. Fuck. Ing. Amazing.
Last weekend, I took my second trip to Atlantic City, and I didn't waste any time. I think I ate three meals there in three days, and the portions were so big that I pretty much just ate that and breakfast.
The food there was so good that I actually had to start eating better food once I got back to New York. I remember the first time I ate a sausage bagel breakfast sandwich after I got back from AC. I was disturbed that one of my usual New York meals seemed bland and flavorless, but I was more disturbed that maybe it had always been that way and I just had never noticed it before.
That's the problem with affected luxury - you can get used to it.
PostScript: After writing this, I realized that after a single night being bumped up to a Trump Taj Mahal luxury suite, I finally rented a new apartment.
THREE
Despite my best efforts and self-awareness that I was a living cliche, staying at an Atlantic City casino reminded me of the following bits of media:
Ocean's 11
Ocean's 13
Rounders
The Apprentice
This episode of Cowboy Bebop, particularly the scene where they're standing in the futuristic elevator and it lists all the games you can play at the casino and what floors they're on.
Showing posts with label ribble's Progress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ribble's Progress. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Monday, August 06, 2007
Monkey Monkey
I am waiting until midnight to update the First Sundays website. There's some technical reason why I need to do this, but I don't think I understand it well enough to explain it.
I am going to be asleep soon-ish, much earlier than my usual. It's funny, but with all the time I kill in a normal day, I wouldn't say I spend all that much time waiting for things, outside of a subway platform at least. Not working may be part of this - there is just not enough going on that I could legitimately wait for anything.
Waiting is a funny thing. It reminds me of a habit I've developed in my notebooks, the written precursor to this blog and the preferred depository of my thought when I am offline or they are too trivial to be presented publically.
When I can't quite remember what it was I was thinking that I wanted to write down, I have take to writing the word "monkey," then either looking at the word on the page or writing "monkey" again until my last thought comes to me.
I remember when I learned the word "liminal," meaning in transition or on a threshold. It was in high school, the most liminal place someone could ever be.
I guess I don't really mind waiting. I remember when I was putting together a movie with Nadine back in December, there was a time when I had no more producing work to do until Nadine and the cinematographer put together a shot list.
It was the strangest moment, because I knew I'd been productive and I'd accomplished something and I could generally could feel good about thing, but I had to wait a couple of days before I'd be able to advance at all. It was not the same as feeling stuck, feeling that I couldn't move myself forward.
In short, it was a vacation from my own expectations, and it was wonderful. I wrote first drafts of at least two short films over those two days. It was like the perfect example of the conspiracy of circumstance that I tend to think I need in order to be productive for myself.
It's 12:05, and I'm starting to think free association is a good idea for a new feature. Jeez, I must be pretty tired.
I am going to be asleep soon-ish, much earlier than my usual. It's funny, but with all the time I kill in a normal day, I wouldn't say I spend all that much time waiting for things, outside of a subway platform at least. Not working may be part of this - there is just not enough going on that I could legitimately wait for anything.
Waiting is a funny thing. It reminds me of a habit I've developed in my notebooks, the written precursor to this blog and the preferred depository of my thought when I am offline or they are too trivial to be presented publically.
When I can't quite remember what it was I was thinking that I wanted to write down, I have take to writing the word "monkey," then either looking at the word on the page or writing "monkey" again until my last thought comes to me.
I remember when I learned the word "liminal," meaning in transition or on a threshold. It was in high school, the most liminal place someone could ever be.
I guess I don't really mind waiting. I remember when I was putting together a movie with Nadine back in December, there was a time when I had no more producing work to do until Nadine and the cinematographer put together a shot list.
It was the strangest moment, because I knew I'd been productive and I'd accomplished something and I could generally could feel good about thing, but I had to wait a couple of days before I'd be able to advance at all. It was not the same as feeling stuck, feeling that I couldn't move myself forward.
In short, it was a vacation from my own expectations, and it was wonderful. I wrote first drafts of at least two short films over those two days. It was like the perfect example of the conspiracy of circumstance that I tend to think I need in order to be productive for myself.
It's 12:05, and I'm starting to think free association is a good idea for a new feature. Jeez, I must be pretty tired.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Three Movies in Three Weeks: Proud Mary Part One
In which things happen really slowly for awhile.
I got back from New Orleans in early January determined to get more work, a new apartment and a cat before the end of the year.
I am still in the same apartment.
The cat is fine.
As for work, I decided to become an independent producer of no-budget films. Partly this was because it was the path of least resistance. To be self-employed, I didn't have to ask anyone for help, I didn't have to go to any interviews, I just had to find some projects.
Partly, it was because of Marlon Brando.
Brando revolutionized his medium, but he lost his focus. I saw an interview with a biographer of Brando's where he said "you just want to tell him, 'you're good at making movies. That brings people joy. Why not do that?'"
After I did Ballots Over Broadway, I figured I was good at making short, no-budget movies, so I'd better go ahead and do that.
Not long after that, Nadine, director of Ballots, came to me with a project. It was a great script by an NYU Junior named Nick Koenig about a girl who's shit-head boyfriend convinces her to do an amateur porn with an overweight local.
I saw immediately that Mary was going to be a challenge. We were shooting in Jersey, which is always a struggle because I have to get everybody out there and we'd all have to sleep over; it was longer than any script I'd done before; and Nick had created some interesting challenges for himself and his actors with the script. It was really going to have to be done well to be done at all.
But, man, what a script. I decided it was going to be worth the challenge. It was exactly the kind of project I was looking for, and I took it.
We scouted locations in Jersey. We did a lot of casting. I tried to figure out how we were going to put this thing together.
For awhile, things happened really slowly. It was my fault, really - when I'm my own boss, it's great because there's no one telling me what to do, but it's awful for the same reason.
I struggled with trying to keep myself motivated, keep myself moving. A couple of times I thought about quitting, but never too seriously. By the time I had said "yes," I had a lot at stake in "Proud Mary." I had to see how far I could go. I was in it for keeps.
At some point, I added up my calendar and realized I was going to be doing three movies in the next three weeks. I'd made just enough progress on pre-production for Mary that I'd be ready if I worked really, really hard. It was time to get organizized.
I got back from New Orleans in early January determined to get more work, a new apartment and a cat before the end of the year.
I am still in the same apartment.
The cat is fine.
As for work, I decided to become an independent producer of no-budget films. Partly this was because it was the path of least resistance. To be self-employed, I didn't have to ask anyone for help, I didn't have to go to any interviews, I just had to find some projects.
Partly, it was because of Marlon Brando.
Brando revolutionized his medium, but he lost his focus. I saw an interview with a biographer of Brando's where he said "you just want to tell him, 'you're good at making movies. That brings people joy. Why not do that?'"
After I did Ballots Over Broadway, I figured I was good at making short, no-budget movies, so I'd better go ahead and do that.
Not long after that, Nadine, director of Ballots, came to me with a project. It was a great script by an NYU Junior named Nick Koenig about a girl who's shit-head boyfriend convinces her to do an amateur porn with an overweight local.
I saw immediately that Mary was going to be a challenge. We were shooting in Jersey, which is always a struggle because I have to get everybody out there and we'd all have to sleep over; it was longer than any script I'd done before; and Nick had created some interesting challenges for himself and his actors with the script. It was really going to have to be done well to be done at all.
But, man, what a script. I decided it was going to be worth the challenge. It was exactly the kind of project I was looking for, and I took it.
We scouted locations in Jersey. We did a lot of casting. I tried to figure out how we were going to put this thing together.
For awhile, things happened really slowly. It was my fault, really - when I'm my own boss, it's great because there's no one telling me what to do, but it's awful for the same reason.
I struggled with trying to keep myself motivated, keep myself moving. A couple of times I thought about quitting, but never too seriously. By the time I had said "yes," I had a lot at stake in "Proud Mary." I had to see how far I could go. I was in it for keeps.
At some point, I added up my calendar and realized I was going to be doing three movies in the next three weeks. I'd made just enough progress on pre-production for Mary that I'd be ready if I worked really, really hard. It was time to get organizized.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
ribble's Progress #3: Work and Cat
While vomiting in to a trash can on a subway platform last night, it occured to me that I may have chosen the wrong occupation.
The main problem with being a self-employed no-budget short film producer is that it is a largely unstructured job.
The problem I've always had with a lack of structure is that I can never define a time when I should not be working, so I'm constantly worrying about what I do and don't get done.
Recently I've been working all afternoon until I get tired, and then not having the energy to do anything, and then doing nothing. For example, it's been weeks since I've written in this blog.
Last night I hit something of a low point. I was coming home from a friend's birthday party, exhausted, and had to get off the train at Whitehall Street to throw up in the trash can on the platform.
It's not exactly that getting sick was stress-related; mostly, I'm sure it was stomach-virus related; but there's nothing like vomiting to make you wonder what exactly it is that's gone wrong with your life up until that point.
So my plan right now is to finish the projects that I've already committed to - all of which are pretty good projects anyway - and then take the time to find the real job that pays that is right for me and will help me to be happy.
Something that IS going well is the cat.
I adopted Kino shortly after this post. Right now, she is sleeping at the foot of my bed, blissfully unaware that she is going to be spayed tomorrow.
Here are the things Kino likes to do:
* Sprint from one end of the apartment to the other, then repeat.
* Fight lengths of string.
* Be pet, then wander away, then eventually wander back.
* Stare.
* Complain if her bowl's empty.
* Actually sit and let herself be pet for awhile, then slowly decide that she would prefer to attack whomever is petting her.
* Scoot her butt against my carpet in a very offensive way.
* Knead.
* Wake me up in the morning, presumably because she's bored.
That's pretty much it. If it were up to me, I would maybe choose a cat who would more often settle down, but this is my cat and I'm quite happy to live with her quirks.
More progress as it comes...
The main problem with being a self-employed no-budget short film producer is that it is a largely unstructured job.
The problem I've always had with a lack of structure is that I can never define a time when I should not be working, so I'm constantly worrying about what I do and don't get done.
Recently I've been working all afternoon until I get tired, and then not having the energy to do anything, and then doing nothing. For example, it's been weeks since I've written in this blog.
Last night I hit something of a low point. I was coming home from a friend's birthday party, exhausted, and had to get off the train at Whitehall Street to throw up in the trash can on the platform.
It's not exactly that getting sick was stress-related; mostly, I'm sure it was stomach-virus related; but there's nothing like vomiting to make you wonder what exactly it is that's gone wrong with your life up until that point.
So my plan right now is to finish the projects that I've already committed to - all of which are pretty good projects anyway - and then take the time to find the real job that pays that is right for me and will help me to be happy.
Something that IS going well is the cat.
I adopted Kino shortly after this post. Right now, she is sleeping at the foot of my bed, blissfully unaware that she is going to be spayed tomorrow.
Here are the things Kino likes to do:
* Sprint from one end of the apartment to the other, then repeat.
* Fight lengths of string.
* Be pet, then wander away, then eventually wander back.
* Stare.
* Complain if her bowl's empty.
* Actually sit and let herself be pet for awhile, then slowly decide that she would prefer to attack whomever is petting her.
* Scoot her butt against my carpet in a very offensive way.
* Knead.
* Wake me up in the morning, presumably because she's bored.
That's pretty much it. If it were up to me, I would maybe choose a cat who would more often settle down, but this is my cat and I'm quite happy to live with her quirks.
More progress as it comes...
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
ribble's Progress #2: Work
This is the year I'm getting more work, a new apartment, and a cat. Here's how it's going so far:
NUMBER TWO (2)
WORK
So far, each time I write one of these, I am talking about a decision I did not know I'd already made. It seems that I have decided to produce no-budget short films full time with no hope of reward. I have made this seemingly senseless decision because:
1) I am desperate to commit to doing something with my time starting immediately because I consider the alternative, despite all reason, to be doing nothing at all, forever,
2) I know I can do this and do it well because I have done it and done it well,
3) At this point, I have more to learn by producing stuff I want to do than by working as a PA,
4) If I stick with it and don't do anything else, I can make a lot of films very quickly, and, like John Turturro putting wax in his ears in Barton Fink, I kind of have to ride that creative wave out before I lose it.
5) Sinbad says get paid in cash and be your own boss.
Last week I spent settling in from New Orleans and making space for an office. Monday felt like the first day of work at a new job.
So far, my work as a producer consists mostly of making phone calls. The biggest challenge, I can already tell, will be keeping organized. I'm keeping a phone log, but what I really want is a giant white board. Yes, a man can dream...
So far, I am a pretty good boss. I started a bit later in the day than I would have liked, but I gave myself a lot of time off to write.
I am realizing as I write this that it is difficult to explain that this is not a bullshit job. I enjoy it too much. I'm working from home. No one knows what a producer does anyway (Please do not ask me. There are books you can read. I am sick of explaining it. You will only make me whinier.)
I agree with this straw man of accusation in that I believe the only way to justify being self-employed is to produce either money or content. I hope for plenty of the second, but I'm not counting on any of the first.
NUMBER TWO (2)
WORK
So far, each time I write one of these, I am talking about a decision I did not know I'd already made. It seems that I have decided to produce no-budget short films full time with no hope of reward. I have made this seemingly senseless decision because:
1) I am desperate to commit to doing something with my time starting immediately because I consider the alternative, despite all reason, to be doing nothing at all, forever,
2) I know I can do this and do it well because I have done it and done it well,
3) At this point, I have more to learn by producing stuff I want to do than by working as a PA,
4) If I stick with it and don't do anything else, I can make a lot of films very quickly, and, like John Turturro putting wax in his ears in Barton Fink, I kind of have to ride that creative wave out before I lose it.
5) Sinbad says get paid in cash and be your own boss.
Last week I spent settling in from New Orleans and making space for an office. Monday felt like the first day of work at a new job.
So far, my work as a producer consists mostly of making phone calls. The biggest challenge, I can already tell, will be keeping organized. I'm keeping a phone log, but what I really want is a giant white board. Yes, a man can dream...
So far, I am a pretty good boss. I started a bit later in the day than I would have liked, but I gave myself a lot of time off to write.
I am realizing as I write this that it is difficult to explain that this is not a bullshit job. I enjoy it too much. I'm working from home. No one knows what a producer does anyway (Please do not ask me. There are books you can read. I am sick of explaining it. You will only make me whinier.)
I agree with this straw man of accusation in that I believe the only way to justify being self-employed is to produce either money or content. I hope for plenty of the second, but I'm not counting on any of the first.
Monday, January 22, 2007
ribble's Progress #1: Cat
This is the year I'm getting more work, a new apartment, and a cat. Here's how that's going:
NUMBER ONE (1)
CAT
I decided I wanted a grownup cat because 1) it's really easy for kittens to get adopted without me, and 2) I don't want to be responsible for the socialization of any living thing at this point in my life.
bff! and I checked out a cat at a place she knew about on the Lower East Side, Social Tees. bff! had met this cat (who does not yet have a name) when the cat had just had kittens. When bff! went back later, both kittens had been adopted, but the cat hadn't. This made bff! sad, so this was the first cat I met.
She was small, black and reaaaaly friendly. Long story short, she was in heat. I will check back in a week to make sure she is not this friendly all the time, but this will probably be my cat. Please do not adopt her before I do.
I feel a little guilty because Speedrail and Liz came up with some great ideas for what and what not to name this cat, but I've decided to name her "Kino."
The family that originally found her had been calling her "Cleo," and I liked the idea of keeping the cat's name the same because we are both grownups and we each had a life before we happened upon each other. Unfortunately, everyone I talked to hated the name Cleo. Still, I wanted something that at least sounded the same, so that's where I started.
"Kino" is a film term. Kino Flo is a company that developed an innovative new lighting system, fluorescent bulbs that didn't flicker, which we call Kinos. Kinos are light as a feather, versatile and easy to work with, and they don't get hot or require any time to turn on or off.
Kinos gave cinemotographers an entirely new weapon in their lighting arsenals and are arguably the most radical innovation in film lighting since the film camera was perfected in the 1920s.
Kino, which is Russian for "film," also suggests Dziga Vertov's Kino-Pravda film series of the 1920s. Specifically, it suggests Man With The Movie Camera, that film series' representative masterpiece. Kino-Pravda films use an energetic and engaging documentary style that uses a lot of camera tricks and innovative techniques to represent the world better than simply seeing it for yourself.
So in general, Kino represents freedom, being light (in terms of weight), progress, and a certain flexibility and playfulness, all of which is significant with this particular cat and what she represents to me. It's short, it's easy to spell over the phone, and it's quite a privilege to be able to name a black cat after a source of light.
I assumed all of this was perfectly obvious, almost cliche, but based on the number of times I've needed to explain the name "Kino" so far, and the number of things I needed to look up on Wikipedia to get this explanation even laughably accurate, I guess it's about as obscure as you can hope for this sort of name.
bff! and I are going litter shopping tomorrow afternoon.
NUMBER ONE (1)
CAT
I decided I wanted a grownup cat because 1) it's really easy for kittens to get adopted without me, and 2) I don't want to be responsible for the socialization of any living thing at this point in my life.
bff! and I checked out a cat at a place she knew about on the Lower East Side, Social Tees. bff! had met this cat (who does not yet have a name) when the cat had just had kittens. When bff! went back later, both kittens had been adopted, but the cat hadn't. This made bff! sad, so this was the first cat I met.
She was small, black and reaaaaly friendly. Long story short, she was in heat. I will check back in a week to make sure she is not this friendly all the time, but this will probably be my cat. Please do not adopt her before I do.
I feel a little guilty because Speedrail and Liz came up with some great ideas for what and what not to name this cat, but I've decided to name her "Kino."
The family that originally found her had been calling her "Cleo," and I liked the idea of keeping the cat's name the same because we are both grownups and we each had a life before we happened upon each other. Unfortunately, everyone I talked to hated the name Cleo. Still, I wanted something that at least sounded the same, so that's where I started.
"Kino" is a film term. Kino Flo is a company that developed an innovative new lighting system, fluorescent bulbs that didn't flicker, which we call Kinos. Kinos are light as a feather, versatile and easy to work with, and they don't get hot or require any time to turn on or off.
Kinos gave cinemotographers an entirely new weapon in their lighting arsenals and are arguably the most radical innovation in film lighting since the film camera was perfected in the 1920s.
Kino, which is Russian for "film," also suggests Dziga Vertov's Kino-Pravda film series of the 1920s. Specifically, it suggests Man With The Movie Camera, that film series' representative masterpiece. Kino-Pravda films use an energetic and engaging documentary style that uses a lot of camera tricks and innovative techniques to represent the world better than simply seeing it for yourself.
So in general, Kino represents freedom, being light (in terms of weight), progress, and a certain flexibility and playfulness, all of which is significant with this particular cat and what she represents to me. It's short, it's easy to spell over the phone, and it's quite a privilege to be able to name a black cat after a source of light.
I assumed all of this was perfectly obvious, almost cliche, but based on the number of times I've needed to explain the name "Kino" so far, and the number of things I needed to look up on Wikipedia to get this explanation even laughably accurate, I guess it's about as obscure as you can hope for this sort of name.
bff! and I are going litter shopping tomorrow afternoon.
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