Of Every Hue and Caste

Remember when I said I would be back "next week?" Looks like that wasn't exactly true, which is another way of saying "not true at all." It looks like The Weekly Flippo took an accidental hiatus, something that is happening a bit too often as of late.

Unfortunately, I've been too busy to update the blog for awhile, and it slipped away from me. If it was up to me, I would do nothing but work on the blog (and also get paid for it). However, it is not up to me. It is up to the goddess Fortuna. For the past month or so, I've been doing deliveries/ caterings for an Italian cafe called Ugo. It's a pretty great place, full of cool and interesting people. I like to think of it as my Adventureland.

Gulfview Heights has taken a little bit of a backseat since we last talked. I was contacted by a guy named Richard Martin to write a first draft for some gangster story called Havana Summit. He wasn't exactly thrilled with what I did with the first ten pages (though I still stand by them and would love for you guys to read them one day). The entire experience was a letdown, as I feel I had plenty of great ideas to offer. The good thing is I never got my hopes too high. Besides, I learned plenty from the whole ordeal (yes, I would describe it as an "ordeal"). There are a lot of variables out there you can't control. The only thing you can control is the quality of the work you put out there. My first ten pages of Havana Summit were pretty good, I feel. Hell, Michael Chabon was turned down for the next Spider-man film. I'm in no way saying I'm as good as him. I'm just saying that's none-too-shabby company to keep.

An unfortunate drawback is I will be unable to finish Gulfview Heights in time for the Nicholl this year. I may send Anywhere, Illinois back in, but I was hoping to have a new script ready in time, but this is not to be. I feel like I'm spinning my wheels.

1. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKq52J_6KwM&playnext_from=TL&videos=7n0w8ivwAdk&feature=grec_index

2.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QBwtHzdSFM

3. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_CMJQYxwtg

That's about it for this week. I am preparing to shift my attention to a 30 Rock spec script I am writing (tentatively called "Smells Like Feminism") for NBC's Writers on the Verge program. Hopefully, I'll avoid distractions and be able to get the script done reasonably soon.

Flippo

A Concept, An Illusion, The School In Which We Learn

Hey Flip-philes. How are you today? Really? That's great! I'm doin' alright as well! I'm pretty stoked we're both doing alright.

Today's blog might be a little on the short side. I would say it's more about quality than quanity, but I've found that that's really just an excuse for not having many ideas... which I may not.

First off, a movie recommendation! My roommate Geoff and I watched a film called Anvil!: The Story of Anvil last week. It was really great, and I urge you to check it out, Dear Reader. Here's the trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FF4H8lB2Y_o

Oh, and here's something that's been on my mind recently. A couple of months ago, I read an article that described a film as "cheesy and awesome." That's a very interesting thought to me, "cheesy" being something that's not necessarily a bad thing. Just because it's cheesy, doesn't mean you can't still love it! This is a pretty large overhaul of how one approaches books, movies, music, etc. Please! Sound off in the comments section below and tell me about things you love that could also be called "cheesy."

Anyway, Lost's excellent sixth season continues. I loved last week's Ben-centric "Dr. Linus." It wasn't very heavy with mythology and was fairly straightforward (well, straightforward for a Lost episode). Do I have theories? Yes. Are they correct? Probably not. Am I having a blast? Absolutely!

Anway, here are some videos I'm into this week. Again, I'm not going to set any of them up except to say that they're all songs I love (yet I'm not really sure any further explanation is required... who was it that said talking about music is like fishing about architecture? Frank Zappa?)

1. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h9vAOzYz-Qs&feature=fvst
2. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNy0ZRLrtis
3. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qB6XdAkkAo
4. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXkm6h6uq0k

Anyway, that about wraps it up this week. Come back next week for more of the same, but one week into the future!

Flippo

Mine of a Liar

"A mine is a hole in the ground owned by a liar." --Mark Twain.

Hey Flip-philes. Back again with some more blog. At first, I thought about using this week's introduction to maybe inspire the masses and use this blog to instill some goodwill. However, instead of doing that, I'm going to ask you to click on this so I can get more ratings on youtube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vZVAV1WDenQ&feature=related

Still here after that shameless attempt at cross-promotion? No? That's fine. Here is a short story I wrote this week. It is called "BBQ Apocalypse."

On the cusp of nuclear annihilation, Edwin held a barbecue in his apartment’s courtyard. It was an afternoon overflowing with good food, cold beer, and the warm companionship of old friends. The conversation was as fulfilling as ever, though the alarm sounds made the hearing a little difficult.

We were to meet over at Edwin’s at two o’ clock, a full three hours before projected estimates of our destruction. Hoping to arrive early, I climbed into my car, buckled my seat belt, and silenced the radio. Traffic was horrible, which came to me as a surprise. I’m not really sure where anyone thought they were going.

When I arrived, I found Murray already overcome by one of his many obsessions. Before he died, Murray was determined to perfect the art of the grilled frank. He wanted to achieve that elusive perfect wiener, the kind you see on Ball-park commercials with the four majestic grill marks running along the side. Murray had an awful habit of overcooking, frequently resulting in the frank residing in an ugly charred cocoon of an outer layer. This was a goal, however, he never quite achieved.

From the outset, Debbie and I resolved to talk only about inconsequential things. We had spent so much of our life discussing work and family that we never even bothered to ask the other about their opinion on subjects such as reality television, minor league baseball, and celebrity sex tapes. Nothing is important if everything is important. We realized this with just enough time left for us to make a foolish stab at course correction.

Our afternoon was interrupted twice. The second time you can probably guess, but the first was almost life-affirming in its simplicity…

“Damn! We‘re out of cheese!” yelled Murray.

“I can go get some!” offered Edwin, ever the gentleman.

“Can’t it wait?”

“No. It can’t. The store is only a couple of blocks away. I’ll be back in time!”

“Are you sure? It’s not that big of a deal!”

“That’s the thing. It is that big of a deal. I’m the host! I’m the host who forgot the cheese!” And with that, Edwin exited the courtyard and took off down to the local grocer. I can’t imagine what he saw while en route. In fact, I don’t much care to think about it at all. We never saw Edwin again.

Later, Murray burnt his hand on the grill. Rachel ran upstairs and grabbed an unused tube of Neosporin. She sat him down at one of the picnic tables and began rubbing the ointment over the burn. Rachel being an attractive girl, I’d imagine Murray found himself somewhat aroused by the situation. It was at this point, he discontinued his quest for the perfect hot dog and turned his attention full-time to Rachel.

After he had finished cooking, Murray placed the food on a picnic table. Remaining civil, we lined up and began building our burgers, letting the women and children go first (no one mentioned the lack of cheese). We each had several and soon found ourselves uncomfortably full. However, that did not stop us from having a little bit more upon Murray’s encouragement. As far as last meals go, this was as good as any.

“Have you ever read Cat’s Cradle?” asked Debra, our winding conversation about the unimportant things taking a turn for the worst.

“Never have. Didn’t seem like it would be my sort of thing.”

“‘Your sort of ‘thing?’ Well, if you ever get the chance, I highly recommend it. It reminds me a lot of you, reminds me a whole lot of us.”

Over the course of the afternoon, the details of that courtyard presented themselves to me with a renewed urgency. For the first time, I noticed the intoxicating, wavy patterns that occurred on the side of the building when the sunlight hit the swimming pool at a bent angle. I likewise took notice of Debbie’s coarse hands, the byproduct of ten years of hard living. She appeared more beautiful to me as a weathered soul than she did as an innocent one.

We were about to eat dessert when the sky turned a bright red. The sirens stopped and our courtyard began shaking. Still enraptured by Rachel, Murray was in the middle of a story about meeting a beautiful young woman when nuclear annihilation occurred. Despite the various warning signs, he continued that story right up until he was engulfed by that chaos. Rachel never did learn that the story was about her.

Debbie and I were about to shift our first meaningless conversation toward the subject of favorite vacation spots when it happened. I’d imagine that she would’ve told me about her parents’ cabin in Maine. In response, I would’ve told her about a beach I used to visit in my youth. The ocean was only bearable for two perfect weeks in late July. It was so immensely satisfying that it made up for the rest of the year, when the water was too frigid to swim.

In other news, Lost continues, and I am enjoying this season immensely. I know it has been pretty divisive, but I really think that's because there are only so many hours left of the show and we're getting anxious to see if Lost can wrap up satisfactorily. I believe, once this final season is over, we're (finally) going to see the show in it's full context and all of us can (finally!) pass a real judgement on the season and the series.

The last two episodes, "Lighthouse" and "Sundown," were really good, and I think the sixth season has found a nice rhythm. Don't go into each episode expecting EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED. This is a mystery show after all. The fun comes from discussion and theorizing. For me, that's as much apart of the Lost experience as anything. Not every one's cup of tea, definitely, but it is most assuredly my beverage of choice.

Last week, my friend Anthony Lombardo invited me to a Lost panel at Paley Fest in Beverly Hills. I went in knowing that all the writers were going to be in attendance, so I was already almost in nerd-overdrive (don't make fun... you're capable of doing it as well!). However, when Nestor Carbonell, Zuleikha Robinson, Michael Emerson, and Terry O'Quinn (the respective actors who play Richard, Illana, Ben, and Locke), the entire audience ERUPTED in cheers, loud enough to be heard for a good block or so. It was really quite something to see. All of us nerds are a powerful force when you can get us out of the basement. Want to find world peace? Tell a D&D meeting that there is a Star Wars holiday special videocassette out of it if they find a way to accomplish it.

Well, anyway, the panel was really extraordinary. Don't worry, no spoilers here. What was really great about the panel was getting the chance to see how creative professionals bounce ideas off one another and relate. These are some sharp, sharp people and I enjoyed the attitude. It was, at once, playful and serious, light-hearted and professional.

Anyway, here are a couple of videos I'm diggin' (no "g") this week. I'm going to try to do it without a preface this time to preserve some of the surprise!

1) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqLaBO5IcjA&feature=related
2) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zol2MJf6XNE
3) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IY_sy6KQVQI

Okay, that's wraps it up this week! So, class, what have we learned? Nothing? Good.

Flippo

It Can Only End Once...

Hey Flip-philes. Back from a two week break to bring you another magnificent helping of blog.

I have finished the first section of Gulfview Heights (pretentiously titled "Some Invisible Threads), and it has been a bizarrely-smooth process so far. All of the doubts and worries that slowed down the writing of Down and Yonder are absent here. If all goes well, I may be looking at a completed script in time for April. Since my personal goal was May, I will try to use the remaining time to inject the kind of detail that separates the great stories.

Right now, I'm reading The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay and I'm constantly stunned by the amount of history, wordplay, and care that has gone into every sentence. It's a slow read, but that's not a bad thing. In fact, here it's an outright amazing thing. The sentences are so loaded with careful detail and the language is so precise that you almost have to take your time. Chabon's attention to the small minutia of daily-life is admirable and hopefully I can instill something similar into Gulfview Heights. Again, I will probably be the last one to know.

I've started working again on the book, We Are The Echo. I'll admit I suffered from a minor case of writer's block. However, after taking a month or so off and thinking about the logical scope of the piece, I think I may have overcome it. My goal is to have it ready before the end of the year. We're halfway there, folks!

Coming up on my L.A. radar, I have The Room this Saturday. It's one of my favorite monthly rituals, and I encourage anybody on the west coast to seek it out. Over the past couple of years, I've become a rather avid fan of the midnight movie. There is just something about watching an overlooked classic (or, in the case of The Room, not-so-classic) with a theater full of movie geeks. This is the sort of bunch who, when I say that "Han shot first," they understand what I'm talking about.

Alright, last week's Locke-centric episode of Lost, entitled "The Substitute," was amazing. Absolutely breath-taking, one-for-the-record-books kind of awesome. It had great revelations and plenty of food-for-though mythology-wise, but it remained intensely focused and character-driven (I promise- no more hyphens for the rest of the post). I loved the flash-sideways storyline this week. It showed a John Locke without an island destiny, and it's hard to argue that he isn't better off without it. He's loved and content. I've long theorized (for about three weeks) that one of the timelines is eventually going to flicker out and take precedent over the other. John Locke is so happy here that it's easy to begin rooting for our island timeline to be the one that fades into temporal non-existence, to hell with our six years of investment.

To close out the blog, I have decided to include some pictures I took last Saturday while walking through Griffith Park. Too many times I have heard people talk about Los Angeles as not being a beautiful place to live. There's beauty everywhere. You just have to be willing to look for it and acknowledge it.

Anyway, I believe that wraps it up for this week. Please make some comments! The blog is only a powerful tool of we use it to engage in a larger conversation.

Flippo

Tomorrow Is Just A Future Yesterday

Hey Flip-philes. Back again with a little more blog to help you fill that void in your life. No time like the present. No present like time.

I have finished the first ten pages of Gulfview Heights and am now in the process of perfecting them, not that this is a process that one ever truly finishes. I've said it before here on this blog, but the first ten pages are difficult. You have to establish so much is so little a time. You have to set-up characters, motivations, tone, and give at least some indication of where it is all going. Not only that, but it needs to have space to breath. You have to tell a whole lot of story without seeming like you're in a hurry. I think this time it proved more successful than some recent attempts.

Yesterday, I took a trip to the Laemmle theater near Sherman Oaks (a nice little art theater I encourage you to check out) to go see An Education. I admit that my enthusiasm for this film was very minimal. That said, I thought it was an amazing film, one to which my thoughts keep returning. Peter Saarsgard has made a career out of playing pretty intense individuals (one day, he NEEDS to play John Malcovich's son!). But in An Education, he was something I never really suspected... charming. I wholeheartedly encourage you to see it. It has my favorite kinds of twists and turns, ones that arise not out of plot mechanics but out of characters and an understanding of human behavior.

We had another Lost episode this week and, while it was more of a slow-burning character study in relation to last week's jam-packed season premiere, I'm having just a difficult time shaking it. Yes, I know some of you thought it was a dissappointment, but there was just something about this episode that is kind of lingering with me. I'm not quite sure of the implications of the "mirror-world," but something is definitely off about it. Claire and Kate were sure drawn to one another, despite their better judgement. Is that a product of sloppy writing or destiny? This is one we'll probably have to sit on until the end of the season (and series!) in order to find it's worth.

But, this being Lost, there was still plenty I enjoyed. I love the island return of a rather Rousseau-esque Claire. I loved when Jack popped that pill to tests Dogen's true intentions (a pretty badass move made by the good doc). I enjoyed the trip back to New Otherton. I loved the Temple Other's test for Sayid. I especially enjoyed the return of Ethan, this time as a fairly standup guy. I really liked the new information we received on the illness and the revelation that Claire may have it as well. Oh, and the scene where we learn Sawyer was going to propose to Juliet... in fact, that whole scene at the dock was pretty amazing.

Come to think of it... a LOT happened this episode. Maybe us Lost fans were just dissappointed in the lack of Ben and the Locke-ness Monster. Oh well... it looks like next we is going to be a pretty nice cure for that!

All in all, I like the shape the sixth season is taking. It feels big and epic, like the fate of the whole world hinges on these characters on this island.

Oh, and instead of recommending youtube clips, I'm going to have a new segment called "Things We Need to Retire." Here we go...

Things We Need To Retire-

1) Saying something idiotic and then, afterwards, saying "holla!"
2) Introducing bands, movies, TV shows, as if they were some obscure of pop culture that only you know about. Say "this is a song by Radiohead." Don't say "this is by a band called Radiohead." Of course it is! I know Radiohead is a band! This drives me crazy.
3) Complaining about your job to unemployed people.

Life in L.A. is well. Sure, things could be better, but can't that always be said? I'm content and thankful and energetic about tomorrow, the last one being a quality we too frequently overlook and underappreciate.

Flippo

Monday, February 1, 2010

...Sculpting The Time Within Time

A few weeks ago I wrote about intellectual property, a rather ambitious topic for an undisciplined weekly blog. I said that, while I should ideally have the freedom to use others' work in a surprising context if I so choose, I said that, ultimately, such freedom would lead to "artistic anarchy." Now, two weeks removed from that comment, I realized that maybe that's not such a bad thing. What I failed to realize is that art, good art, is anarchy anyway.

My friend Matt Brandenburgh commented on the post, and I encourage you to check out what he wrote. As always, it is thoughtful and intelligent, but it also contains a link you may care to click on if this is a topic that interests you.

I started the new story. It's called Gulfview Heights, and I'm excited about it. The story is planned almost scene-to-scene, so the actualy writing of it will hopefully prove luxurious. It's a story I first started when I was 15 (!), but something always felt missing. When you're dealing with stories about youth, you have to solve the problem of why anyone really cares about a young person's problems. What real effect does this have on the world at large? I'm hoping to solve this problem by deciding to confront it head on.

I would like to say Gulfview Heights will be Say Anything by way of David Mamet. However, since it is actually just going to be by way of me, it's at an unreasonable disadvantage.

Since I haven't done this in awhile, here are some videos I'm diggin' this week:

First up, the Charlotte Gainsbourg music video for "Heaven Can Wait" off her upcoming album, IRM. Just based on the quality of this single, I think IRM might be a helluva album.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fi20N3idp44

This is one of my favorite TV theme songs EVER. The Rembrandts can't touch Polaris.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnqeeBdGhh4

Next up... I'll let you discover that for yourself. What's Coolio up to these days?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39Tds8nMkks&feature=related

Well, I finally got to see the Lost premiere, entitled "LA X." It was a head-scratcher, a heartbreaker, and a mind-melter all in one. I'd love to post some wild theories about What I Think It Means, but the simple truth is that I haven't fully digested this one again. It was so dense with plot developments, character beats, and revelation that I might need another week to fully grasp it. The problem with that, though, is there is another episode coming this Tuesday, heading my way like a freight train.

Though I will say that would I especially like this season is that they're not holding back with the heady ideas. I can't imagine a person, having only watched the first couple, more popular seasons, jumping back on the bandwagon. That's a good thing! I want this season to be a reward for us hard-core fans, the ones who stuck with the show through the ups (The Constant) and downs (Nikki and Paulo). By now, we've learned the secret nerd handshake. Not just anyone should be able to reap the benefits. What's the smoke monster you ask? If you haven't watched, I sure as hell won't tell you.

But let's not end this post on the space between us, shall we? Instead, I rather talk about what my friend Allison said about February. She said that January was just a warm-up month, and it was February where the year really takes flight. I hope that's true, because I think we all need 2010 to be a good year. We need it, and I think we can make it happen.

Flippo

Monday, January 25, 2010

Eternal Youth Only (aka "The Dreamer's Disease")

Hey Flip-philes. Back again with more blog. I'm putting the final touches on Down and Yonder. It's 92 pages now with no filler and no connective tissue. It might end up being around 100 pages once I put the muscles on. It's in no way done though. I'm simply going to give it a break until I am brave enough to return to it and dig deeper.

I also finished up a short story called Ba Dum Chhh. It's not long, but I like the shape it is taking. It is pretty dark and often just flat-out weird, but I consider those both to be pretty positive attributes.

Also, J Dawg (a.k.a. Jonathan Hunt) and I are prepping a short film to be shot the first weekend of February. It's called Art for Illitirates and I think it might be legitimately good. Hopefully it all comes together well.

In other news, I am about to go into geek overdrive as the final season of Lost is set to premiere this Tuesday, February 2. I apologize in advance for all my crazy theories involving reincarnation, destiny, and the space-time continuum. I didn't choose this. It chose me.

Check this out:

It's a pretty sweet pic. Battlestar Galactica did this a year or two ago, but I still geeked out all the same when I saw the Lost cast give it a spin. Has anybody called this "The Lost Supper" yet? If not, they need to!

(Oh, and last week I came up with a killer theory about John Locke and his true role in all this. It's pretty mind-blowing if it's true, but I'll have to bore you with that another time.)

Anyway, that about wraps it up for this week. I'm warning you, though. For the next few months, this blog is about to get wrapped up in all things Lost. If that kind of thing usually bores the hell out of you... well, I guess I'll see you in May.

Flippo

Monday, January 18, 2010

Not Where You Take It From, But Where You Take It To...

Hey Flip-philes. Back again with another installment of The Weekly Flippo. Though I usually prefer not to explain the title of each posting (doing so would somehow lessen the impact), I decided to make an exception for this week's outing. The masterful Jean-Luc Godard, when asked how he felt about artists using material from other sources, responsed with this quote. It's an important one, and a wholly satisfying response to criticisms of Tarantino and some others, who seem to specialize in these sort of pop culture collages.

I like to think that good art doesn't take place in a vaccuum, but is apart of a larger conversation. Sometimes, doesn't copyright law just get in the way? If you put out a song and enter it into the cultural fray, it should absolutely be within my rights to place it in a new, ironic context if I so choose. And I say "should" in only the most idealistic sense. Unfortunately, for our day-to-day, this would only mean artistic anarchy.

This all has been on my mind recently for many reasons, all of which are not quite as interesting as the central argument it inspires. What do you think? Please! Use the comment section below!

Since I am a master of the segway, here's the short story I wrote last week in full. It is called "The Bridge and The Rabbit Head."

Of our little group, Mackie Rohmer and I were the only ones to have seen a man die. It was that fact that both united us and separated us from the others. Together in youth, we were bonded on the schoolyard and at home, in certain undeniable ways neither one of us much cared to acknowledge.

Mackie was in the hospital room when his stepfather entered into whatever kind of existence awaits us after this world. As I’ve gotten older and the routines of hospital wards have grown more familiar, I can’t help but think of the considerable toll this experience must have taken on a ten-year-old boy. I’m reminded of all those late nights and that frozen minute hand, the sterile hallways and those shitty waiting room magazines. It must have been horrible.

I, on the other hand, was lucky enough to not know mine. One day, while on the way home from the library, I saw a pedestrian hit by a long black car, the kind that coughs up ugly wisps of smoke as it creeps down the road. This man flew back, his head hitting the curb with an audible crack. While on the ground, his body began coiling and uncoiling in the most unnatural way, as if possessed. I remember the distinct design the blood made on the pavement, like a perverse Rorschach test. I remember seeing a rabbit head.

All of which brings us to the bridge and the habit we developed over the course of our tenth summer. Behind my house, there was a thin, dusty trail that wound its way down to an embankment and gave way to a creaky old wooden bridge, held together only by luck and leftover lumber. I was the one who came up with the idea to leap off of it, though it was Mackie who had the heart to make that initial jump and see it all come into fruition.

“See you on the other side!” he yelled as he made the inaugural leap. I couldn’t allow myself to look because, for a brief moment, I fully expected to never see little Mackie Rohmer alive again. When he landed on the embankment, his legs gave out and he slipped into a nice cushion of mud, negating the impact. Nobody could’ve been more relieved than me when his screams turned out to be nothing more than uncontrollable bouts of laughter.

It took another week of Mackie’s relentless convincing for me to make the jump. The embankment didn’t look so far away atop the bridge. However, as I jumped, the two seconds it must of taken seemed to stretch on for what seemed to be an eternity. I remember having enough time to wonder how much farther I had to fall.

The impact was first felt in my knees. It seemed to echo throughout my body, and I thought I heard my rib cage rattle a little bit. Mackie must have said something after that first jump, but, if he did, I sure as hell don‘t remember it. The world itself had gone quiet, as if underwater. Without any prompt, I climbed out of the embankment and made the jump again. I wanted to do this until my hesitation had left me. It never did. Not fully.

Over the course of our tenth, eleventh, and twelfth summers, we developed what could be categorized as an obsession to the bridge. Every year, the bridge grew older and more dangerous. Since we grew up alongside it, we appreciated the new challenges it presented. During this time, we spoke to one another on a wild variety of subjects, including (but not limited to) girls, the future, Saturday morning cartoons, and which teachers made for the easiest A. We never spoke about the bridge, though. Never the bridge. That would’ve seemed ridiculous. Have often do you talk about breathing?

Mackie was once a boy made up of infinite detail, quirks like the bricks of a house. I remember the Chaplin-esque glasses and the scabby knees. Most of all, I remember his crooked nose, the unfortunate aftermath of his summer spent as little league shortstop. Time has flattened those details and rendered him just another old man, too much like myself. All old men look like flightless birds. We’re too angular at the top and too fat in the middle.

Our hearts give out too often as well. There is no better reminder of this than the minute hand on a clock in the Erlanger Hospital waiting room. It took a couple of minutes to gather myself before going to try to talk to Mackie. When I got to him, he wasn’t much able to talk back, though I can only imagine what we would have said with time so scarce.

I’d imagine we’d finally talk about the intense feeling that resided in our stomachs when we jumped, and the deep-seeded longing we had on those sweltering summer nights, a feeling not unlike being in love. I remember how it feels to have it all in front of you and how overwhelming that can be. I sometimes still feel like this and I knew, in his final hours, Mackie did as well.

"See… you… on… the other…” he whispered.

He didn’t get to finish, though I knew what he meant entirely.

I may finally finish Down and Yonder next week, before the end of January. I want to immediately go into my next one. I am trying to adhere to a two script a year regiment (one for the spring, one for the fall). It's a schedule I feel pushes me, but doesn't rush me. Stephen King and Michael Chabon believe in a 1,000 word a day schedule. I believe Hemingway did a 700 word a day schedule. It's all about finding what works and sticking with it, even on the lousy days.

The look for long-term employment continues. One of the great drawbacks to freelance work is that you are always hunting, which is exhausting. But, then again, Dad says I have the rest of my life to have a 9-5 job. Might as well to do this while my system can still withstand shocks to it.

So far, 2010 is a good year. Fun year to say, an even better year to be apart of.

Flippo

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Smilin' Strange, Always Lookin' Happily Deranged

Hey Flip-philes. Back again with another post. A friend recently told me that he disagreed with my assessment of Up In The Air, which was a surprise to me. Not necessarily because we disagreed (we have more heated debates on pop culture than we do religion and politics combined), but because I didn't know anyone actually read this blog. I thought this place was an island, but that's apparently not the case. I should probably start doing spellcheck.

A couple of weeks ago I made a list of my favorite films of 2009 and forgot to include Star Trek and Fantastic Mr. Fox. I'm not sure why I forgot them as both were awesome and fresh on my mind. I don't know where I'd place them either, but I doubt I'm going to take the time to do it. I'm kind of over the whole list thing anyway. Ranking movies is like ranking your favorite relatives. Sure, you'd know what the order would be, but it is rather rude.

On the writing front, I took a break from the implosion that is Down and Yonder and wrote a simple short story. It is called "The Bridge and The Rabbit Head," and I'm rather proud of it. It's solid but slight (though most short stories are). I hope to write more of these this year. It's a good exercise.

The move is going well. We found a cheap couch and will hopefully have cable before the end of the week. Having to talk to one another has been simply unbearable! We also don't yet have Internet so I'm forced to go to a coffee shop and use their wi-fi (on a related note, did you know they steam milk these days?). I just need a corduroy jacket and maybe my Georgia caterpillar can finally transform into that beautiful hipster butterfly. Does anyone know a place in Sherman Oaks that sells vintage tees?

Until next time.

Flippo

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Poor Players, Wa(l)king Shadows

Look how far we've come. 2010, folks. That's insane. 2001 has been dated for nine years now! Luckily, we don't have weird monoliths, bone-throwing monkeys, or sentient computers hell-bent on our annihilation.

Yet.

First up, I regret to inform you that I didn't finish Down and Yonder before the end of the year. I'm more than a little frustrated with myself. Writers are only worth a damn with real concrete deadlines, even if they're just ones placed on the writer by his or herself. Too many writers have sat around waiting for inspiration that never comes. You don't wait for it. You work until it arrives, sharpening your tools.

I'm having a little trouble with the second half of the story (the "Yonder" section). It is difficult writing about characters without goals. The story has to eventually have an internal energy, but it all just feels too stop-and-go at the moment. Though the characters don't have any forward momentum, the story sure has to have it, and I pray this is a speed bump and not a coffin nail.

(Yes, I realize that nobody is interested in the plight of the writer except for a writer. Thanks for not saying anything though. You're sweet.)

In other news, my trip home to Georgia was great and surely the quickest two and a half weeks of my life. It was dense with friends, family, and good times, which is just as it should be. Here are some random pictures from my time home.

This is me firing a Roman candle.

This is me and my old roommate Alex Dimitropoulos. We're pointing at our old apartment (the legendary "Flipopoulos") on a map.



This is me and my buddy, Adam Speas, celebrating the New Year in Athens. We studied abroad in Cannes together.

This is my buddy Craig. I like this photo a lot. It's like a still from a Ramin Bahrani film.

This is my good friend Tulsi. She sciences at Columbia.

This is my friend Matt. He lives up in Brooklyn.

As you can probably tell, I received a camera for Christmas. It's a Coolpix camera (yes, just like Ashton Kutcher). One of my goals in 2010 is to take more pictures. I've developed this fear that I'm not really documenting my life well enough and my children and and my children's children will have no idea who I was a young man. In 2010, I'm going to correct this.

It's a new year folks. All the joys, troubles, and surprises of 2010 are still ahead of us. Take pleasure in that.

Flippo

Saturday, January 2, 2010

My Favorite Films of 2009

2009 was a pretty good year at the movies. Most people would probably agree with that, although probably no one will agree exactly which movies made it so great. It was a year where even the breakthrough blockbusters proved polarizing. The films stuck with you, however, and I loved that.

I know lists are a little silly, but I felt compelled to do it. It forces me to think about the films I loved and reevaluate them. First, a few honorable mentions:

Away We Go- A perfect example of a 2009 film. This one really divided audiences when it debuted in July. I thought it was a perfect remedy for an increasingly bombastic summer. A real charmer.

Watchmen- Again, another film that isn't quite for everybody. Yes, it turned out it was impossible to translate the great Alan Moore comic to the big screen. Watchmen, as a film, is something else entirely, but if you're able to separate yourself from the book, you'll find it has its own wonders.

The Hangover- I'd call this a guilty pleasure, but I really think this is a legitimately good film. Great casting and surprisingly nuanced writing make this an exceptional boys-will-be-boys comedy. This is one of those films that you will revisit over and over again.

Avatar- Yes, this is Dances With Wolves in space. You know what? I'm perfectly fine with that. Sci-fi has always been about archetypes and pathos anyway, so I can't fault this genre hybrid for that. It's a great film, dense with wild imagery and dazzling visual effects.

#10- A Serious Man- I still haven't figured this film out, and I doubt I ever will. Is it a 20th century retelling of the book of Job, or is something even more sinister? This is one to talk (or argue) about with friends.

#9- The Damned United- If Invictus is about overcoming the odds, The Damned United is about succumbing to them. Filmed with meticulous detail and great visual flair, I enjoyed every moment of director Tom Hooper's directing debut.

#8- (500) Days Of Summer- This one is, in turns, funny, charming, frustrating, and deeply moving. A surprisingly intelligent film that, for a change, manages to find beauty in Los Angeles.

#7- Moon- One of the most haunting films of 2009, the one most likely to either sneak into your dreams or creep into your nightmares. Sam Rockwell is exceptional in what is essentially a one-man show (kinda). If Avatar is a sci-fi film for the heart, Moon is a sci-fi film for the mind.

#6- Up In The Air- A heavy-hearted film that comes across with a great sense of buoyancy. See it, and you'll know what I mean.

#5- The Messenger- This one stuck with me. The Messenger is about two soldiers with one of the most unenviable jobs imaginable: giving notice to the families of fallen soldiers. It's heartbreaking to watch and all the victories are small ones. However, it features some of the best writing and acting I've seen this year, and I'd be glad to return to this film.

#4- District 9- 2009 was a return to the Thinking Man's sci-fi. Yes, there's action and neat special effects, but it's all there to serve the story. It does what great sci-fi should do: show us another world to help us see this one better.

#3- The Hurt Locker- This was the most intense movie-going experience of 2009. No other film this year felt so immediate, so real. The film follows Sergeant First Class William James on a tour with the Explosive Ordnance Disposal unit. Those scenes with William disarming the explosives are brilliantly filmed and, for a moment, you feel you're watching what is perhaps the best documentary of the year.

#2- Inglourious Basterds- The Hurt Locker is a movie about war. Inglorious Basterds is a movie about war movies. It's rude, playful, and not afraid of the occasional flight of fancy. I hate dutiful movies, the kind that's overtested, overcooked, and generally afraid to offend. Inglourious Basterds is not a film like that. It's sheer punk rock.

#1- Up- Not many films can make you cry. Even fewer can make you cry within the first ten minutes. This is a family film about the passage of time and the decisions we make versus the decisions life makes for us. Up just may be aimed more at the adults in the audience than the kids, though there is plenty there for them, too. Squirrel!

2009 was a great year, full of great change and forward momentum. I'm glad it's over, but glad it happened. Throughout it all, I was relieved the movies were there to help. It's the cheapest form of psychiatry I know.

Flippo

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