Final Day

The final day of the 2005 Directors Lab


Yesterday was the final day of the lab.

Before I get mushy, I'll quickly go over the course of events of the day:

The first thing we had were presentations of the projects we have been working on all week. The project I was on was particularly grueling because it was extremely self reflective of the whole group. We examined an incident, and started to hear all sorts of responses we were not quite ready for . . . it tuned into a race/gender issue, which was not what we expected.

I've never been as intimidated as I was standing in among a group, reciting their own words back to them. There was a certain air of fear among all of us in the group, not that we would fail, but that we would too greatly succeed. We were afraid that our piece might provoke incidents that it shouldn't, certainly not on the last day of the lab.

It went off without a hitch. Everything was great, people kept commenting about how they were grateful that we approached this subject, and how much they enjoyed it. It was very surreal, and feels like it was many moons ago . . .

We then approached our final discussion group, kind of a wrap up session . . . we talked about how to use all of this information, and where we needed to go from here as artists. There's a very strong sense of community in this group. We all truly like one another. It's absolutely AMAZING how much I've bonded with these people over the course of 3 weeks. 3 WEEKS!! I've only them for 3 weeks, and these guys feel like the best of friends. I'm very emotional right now.

Okay, quickly moving on. We moved into the pizza party, and from there said our goodbyes to those who couldn't make it to the Karaoke thing that evening. The goodbyes begin . . .

I then headed over to Sean's to see him before I go because "Well dude, I'm working for the next two days so I don't if I'll get to see you if its not tonight." I oblige.

Then to the Karaoke bar . . . me and my theatre fags friends . . . amazing. This was a LOT of fun. No, I didn't sing, sorry to disappoint, but the bar was spacious, and the drinks were moderately priced, and all of my favorite people from the lab were there.

Just a side note: I had heard this from this guy Dominique and figured he was messing with me, but I got confirmation last night. Apparently a bunch of the girls and a few guys went to dinner the other day and started talking about their "Top 5 in the lab" (too hook up with, just to clarify) We all know how self degrading I am when it comes to that sort of stuff, so when I learned that I was one of the most popular ones in the lab, I was floored. It was also decided that I was officially the "Coolest" guy in the lab . . . I guess there is hope for me after all. (Please note, the previous was for journal use only, any further mention will be disregarded . . . because I'm so damn self-conscience . . . this is the one area where I do not toot my own horn so to speak)

The bar was the bar . . . we all got very drunk, we sang songs, we jumped around, I told Catherine to leave her husband and come with me, she said okay, we traded hugs, we said goodbye, we tried to get every last second out of those who were leaving . . . I wonder who of these people I will ever see again . . . email is a great thing, but I wonder if I'll ever do the handshake pull into hug thing with Keith again . . . I wonder if I'll ever get to lend my hoodie to Ashlie or be told "You give great hugs" by Lauren . . . or teach Fredrick what "daps" are . . . or fake battle with Mike Lew . . . there's something deep inside of all of us that begs to be touched . . . and I've been very touched for the past 3 weeks.

Okay, so after the bar, we (our numbers are dwindling) went to Rebecca's house and immediately climbed on to the roof. We sat, we chatted, we told jokes and stories . . . we watched as the sun rose over the east river, and marveled at this thing called New York that we have very much been a part of for the past short while. The city is stunning. The city is magic. I've always loved nature, but there's something remarkable about seeing the culmination of centuries of man's work . . . we built that . . . humans . . . amazing.

So afterwards, we head to breakfast, we lose Greg, Alexandra, Molly, Rebecca, Matt and Snahal. The breakfast is amazing (although still being drunk helps). We continue to enjoy each other and embrace everything that we have gained from this experience. We head for the subway . . . it's now 7:30 AM and the world has awoken.

We take the F line into town to the West 4th stop. We lose Fredrick and Jason.

We then head to the ACE train. We lose Ashlie, Kevin, Lauren, Kathleen.

We head uptown . . . towards Union Square. We lose Mike.

We then come to 59th. Jakob departs the train, and I am alone.

I ride the subway not knowing if I'll ever see these people again. These newly discovered friends that I will miss dearly. I ride the subway, sleepily thinking of everything that has happened . . . this might truly have been the most amazing time in my life. I'm very much in love with everyone in my lab . . . no animosity . . . I love all of those guys and gals . . . I have been blessed to have been given this opportunity, and I will remember it always. These are some of the most amazing people I have ever met, and I'm so lucky to have met them. Okay, now that I've made myself cry, I'll stop this journal entry . . .

To the 2005 Directors Lab. You'll forever be a part of who I am. Cheers.

420 and Post Office Horror

I haven't done this in a while so here goes . . . Happy 420.

This is the greatest holiday of them all, as the magical 420 elves bring you lots of greeny goodness, but Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy all join forces to come together for the most vital of all reasons . . . the neverending, tireless seach for amicable munchies.


Okay, maybe 420 has gotten to me too . . .

Anywho, I'm checking out New Monsoon tomorrow night at Gypsy . . . They seem jammy, and you all know how I am about that . . . Maybe Medeski Martin and Wood on Saturday, depends on funds.

OH! SPEAKING OF!!

I gave the fucking post office the wrong address on my change of address form and just figured it out. Now I have $1800 worth of checks floating around out there and I'm broke as shit. I hate this crap, it's just very annoying.

If anyone wants to buy my a ticket to MMW . . . I will not stop you. I swear. Try me. I won't do it.

Gomez

I just rolled in from Tulsa, where I saw Robbers on High Street, Gomez and Cake.

Now, Gomez is my favorite band, hands down. Ther put on an okay show, but they were in this cavern of a basketball arena, and no one had ever heard of them . . . I hate 18 and 19 years old. With a fucking passion.

The delights of the evening were meeting up with Tom from Gomez before the show. He recognized me and Robin from Houston. He was on his way to get some shirts cleaned and stoned out of his mind.

The other delight was Robbers on High Street. I really dig this band . . . they are almost a very indie rock version of Maroon 5. They are very cool, and have my stamp of approval. Hopefully I'll see them when I'm in the city.

and

I'm preparing to get the hell out of this city. I'm tired of the bullshit and the fact that nothing of merit ever occurs here. I can't wait until June, so I can meet the people I'm supposed to meet, so I can, again, get the hell out of this city.

Lakewood Block Party Tomorrow night.

Delmar and Llano? I think . . . I'll be there regardless

Love

It's remarkable what life will throw at you. A day after I get my heart broken, I sit in The Londoner in Addison, trying to figure out what would make someone, COMPLETELY smitten with another, leave that person and never speak to them again. We're working on a play that I'll be organizing a reading of shortly, and there was a character who decides to leave the one she loves, simply because it wasn't safe. We decided that this would be a bit ridiculous, although I've seen stupider reasons . . .

I have a new found philosophy . . . Stop making a big deal out of everything and just roll with it. Lucas is coming in town this evening. Game on . . .

Tonight I'll be at the Grand Opening of the new Barley House . . . not because I think it will be any good, but because I "need" to be there. I'll be expceted anyway. So, there you have it . . .

Decemberists were STUNNING. They played for 2 hours and were just amazing every second they were up there. Anyone who did not go should have . . . if they are coming to your town GO! They are greatness . . . just enough pop to be groovie, just enough indie to hold my attention . . .

Isn't It funny?

Life?


I'm settling into my new place in Arlington. I'm house-sitting for Mad Mike, my old boss at the comwboy show and the bass player in my old band. He's off to Atlanta to do a pirate show, and wanted me to come with, but instead, I declined and choose to house sit in his stead.

I'm finding that I'm not great with change. As much as I implement it into my life, once I'm used to something, I have issues adjusting. I'm really kinda down right now. Eh, ehatever. I don't have the time or the pateience to be depressed, especially over little shit.


Moving on.

Tonight I'll be at The Decemberists at Trees. You should come. They are wonderful. Actually I'll be at some girl named Kelly's birthday party thing at The Galxay Club, then to Trees for the Decemberists . . .

I've actually had a great week . . . I'm just tired. And in a new house. And have to work at 6 AM.

DECEMBERISTS!! TONIGHT!! COME PLAY!!!

Now

I never know how to start these things . . . .

Maybe I just need to write a book . . . .

I just don’t understand why I’m always looking for something greater . . .
Why can’t I find contentment within the simple things?
Why am I so fucking dramatic?

My right now is "Someday it will be better, but that's no good to us now. Oh we can do so much better, just leave us alone to let us to try to think about nothing." (Shout Out Louds)

Only me . . .

hope·less adj.
1. Having no hope; despairing.
2. Offering no hope; bleak.
3. Incurable.
4. Having no possibility of solution; impossible.

ro·man·tic adj.
1. Of, relating to, or characteristic of romance.
2. Given to thoughts or feelings of romance.
3. Displaying, expressive of, or conducive to love: a romantic atmosphere.
4. Imaginative but impractical; visionary: romantic notions.
5. Not based on fact; imaginary or fictitious: His memoirs were criticized as a romantic view of the past.
n.

Hopeless Romantic is basically an incurable impracticality.

You search for perfection . . . You strive for something greater than yourself, although you have no earthly idea of what that can be . . . You wander through this world, blind as a newborn, and you rest on this, you rest on your blind hope that something will happen sometime that means something. You look for meaning in the smallest of things. The pace of breath, the emphasis on a syllable, the accidental touch of a shoulder, or the brush of a hair . . . But mostly you look into someone’s eyes, and hope you see a soul. You start having thoughts about what you see inside someone, and you begin to manifest reason. You create a delusion that can only possibly exist in a mind like yours. You take the attainable, and make it unattainable. You force things into a person that may or may not be there and regardless of reality, you cling to those until you are removed by force. You search for perfection and you see it across a room. You notice the way it moves. You hear the words from its mouth. You see the ease it walks with. You see the way it attaches to others and see the happiness over come them . . .You realize that it is not perfection you have discovered, but rather intrigue. You are completely enthralled by the appearance of perfection that you have forced on top or her. Perfection would almost ruin you at this point, because you are holding on to the belief that perfection is unattainable. But this . . . This is not unattainable. You see the motions, you hear her sweet slight accent, you see the smile and you can’t look away. Your heart is tearing itself into a thousand pieces and you can’t look away. Something takes over . . And you can’t look away. You are told “I believe you are smitten.” You respond “No just intrigued. There would have to be a remote chance of anything beyond the solitary existence of tonight.” Scratch that. You respond “No, just intrigued.” And it begins . . . You become a freight train. You can’t stop until you reach a conclusion. Whether it means being derailed, whether is means reaching a happy conclusion, or whether its having a sudden reason to stop, hitting the brakes, and then realizing that regardless of wishes or intentions, you can‘t stop it.

I'm trying . . . I'm sorry

I finally have a consistant internet connection!!!!

This should be more often now . . .

Lincoln Center

I just got accepted into the Lincoln Center Director's Lab for 2005.

This is not something I was expecting, but I'm happier than you can ever imagine.

This is a huge deal for me . . .

check it out if you want to.

Here.

SXSW

Here is my review of SXSW

The hipsters are right . . . belive the hype.

Bloc Party is amazing. This is going to be the next big thing . . . they have everything you need to make it in rock . . . great beats, hella cool vocals, beautiful driving music, and a black lead singer with a heavy south leeds accent. Listen to "The Answer"


Kaiser Cheifs are pretty great themselves . . . they sound like the CD but I think they have room to grow . . . listen to "Oh my God"

Kasabian put on the best show of the festival, for me anyhow . . . I had never heard this band, and they blew my mind . . . Very big rock. They put on a stadium show in a smallish venue. Greatness!! Listen to "Club Foot"

Shout Out Louds . . . they are very cool. They are kinda southern rockish/alt-country with a bit of electronica . . . they are from Stockholm. I dig them. Listen to "But Then Again No"

Death From Above 1979 . . . HARDCORE. This is one of the coolest shows I saw. Jst a drummer and a bass player . . . fucking hardcore and badass . . . made me want beat the hell out of a 19 year old metal kid in a mosh pit . . . that hasn't happened in a while . . . Listen to "Romantic Rights"


Otherthan that I met Elijah Wood and asked him "What news from the Shire?"
He gave me a dirty look.

SXSW was amazing . . . I'll go inot more later . . . hopefully . . .

Whatever pt. 9

So I sit here in front of this computer, sitting in the dark, excluding the soft glow of the screen in front of. I hear Tom York speak of God and whatnot in the background. I never really thought I would do this, but I guess once you hit the ripe old age of 25 and realize that you are yet to have obtained a degree, gotten a “real” job, or really accepted any responsibility whatsoever . . . Things just kinda start to come out. So here it is . . . I’m 25. I’m half white, half Mexican. Well, I’m not really half and half. I’m actually approximately a third French, around a third Mexican, which is mostly Mestizo, (Spanish and Mexican Indian) about a fourth Irish and German, and I think there’s even some Scottish, Welsh, and Belgian in there . . . I don’t know, my Dad’s a mutt . . . But for all intents and purposes, I’m a half bred. You know, it’s incredibly interesting growing up in this state of consciousness, since I was raise in Northside until I was about 7, then I was whisked off like some damsel in distress, and placed promptly in the middle of the suburbs. So, essentially, while all my previous friends were playing with guns and joining gangs, I was learning the joy that is Super Target, and wondering why there were so many minivans all over the place. Needless to say, it was quite the intellectual alteration. My mindset was abruptly distorted, but it was okay, cause I was now going to “good schools.”

Have you ever tried so hard to find the intricacies in life that others seemingly avoid that you miss the obvious ones right in front of your face? I find myself always looking for the little things and taking pleasure in finding things about art and life and anything for that matter that other people miss . . . My only problem is that I lose sight of the big picture in hopes to perfect the small one. I wish I could just step out of my life an look at everything I am doing completely objectively . . . I think I’m a hell of a director, but as far as acting goes, I’m incredibly unsure. If I could only direct my life, and not have to star in it, I’d be set. It’s kinda like those infamous timeouts you would take as a kid. It never mattered what you were doing, you could take a timeout, and reevaluated the situation . . .I need a timeout so bad right now . . .

I’m scared to death of not leaving a legacy. For most people, it’s children. For others it wealth . . . . For me . . . It’s knowledge. I want to make people think about things they have never thought about before . . . I want people to see my work and not be able to sleep at night, or sleep better than they ever have in their lives, and they could both have seen the same thing.

Then you sit back and you read the shit that vomitted one day, and feel like the most egotistical fuck that you know. I want to make people think? What the fuck does that do? Thinking is over rated, and rarely accomplishies anything.

Vomit

Time to vomit again. I’m not sure what I’m feeling right now because I have this incredible girl sleeping in my bed right beside me, and somehow I feel myself pulling away. I’ve always been a little scared of commitment, but simultaneously, I find that I fall in love faster than anyone I know. I’m always seeking the “one,” and that really annoys the hell out of my friends. All they want to do is to go out with me and have a good time. See, I’m just about the friendliest guys you’ll ever meet, and because of this, I tend to do very well with the initial conversation aspect of the game. Actually, I’d say that I ‘m great from rounds 2 through 9 or so. I am AWFUL in round one, and I have no finish. So basically, if I do manage to come through round one, which I count as the initial contact moment, then I’m awesome.

So . . .

I get a call this morning from an automated system that says I need to call the "Law offices of Jackson Charter and Collins"

I bite . . .

I call and asked what number I dialed.

"I don't know, whatever was on your automated message"
"well, sir, we have a lot of extensions . . . do you know which called you."
"No, what is this regarding?"
"Well, we need to know what extension to find that out"
"Okay, so you have a bunch of automated calls going out?"
"Yes, can you tell me what number you called?"

I finally look at my phone and tell her.

I get transferred.

"Good Morning sir, can I get your social?"
"No, what is this regarding?"
"Well, I won't know until I look up your file?"
"Okay . . . and for that you need my social . . ."
"Yes, sir."
"What COULD this be regarding?"
"Sir, I won't know unless I get your social"
"What does this law firm specialize in?"
"Alot of of different things, can I please have your social?"

OKAY, NOW THIS IS GETTING FUCKED UP . . .

"No, you can't, if you can't tell my what realm this could remotely be in, then no, you can't have my social"
"Sir listen, my time is valueable as I'm sure you're is to..."
"You have no idea."
"...But I can't find out anything until I get a social."

I give them a fake social and say:

"What is this regarding?"
"Okay, now can I get your name?"
"How about I just give you credit card numbers right now?"
"Excuse me?"
"You can't have my name."
"Sir you can either give me your name or just find out what this is about later in court."
"Honey, you're going to have to be much better at this next time"
"Excuse me?"
"You'll have to try just a little bit harder if you want to pull this off, you're pretty bad at this."
"Have a good day sir."
"Go fuck yourself."
Click.

I call back.

"Jackson, Charter and Collins, can I help you?" (or whatever the fuck it was)
"Yes, what law firm is this?"
"Jackson, Charter and Collins . . ."
"I couldn't quite understand you, could you spell that?"
"Who is this?"
"This is someone who got a call from you and wants to look you kids up."
"Do you know Keisha?"
" . . . . No . . . . I don't know Keisha . . ."
"Then disregard the call."
Click.



Wow . . . that was a hell of a morning . . . I then called the FTC or FBI or someone and told them . . . nothing will be done, but shit . . . that was a hell of an experience . . .

Moral of the story . . . if you try to steal my identity, you better have a better line than "we specialize in a lot of things."

Bitch.

Where you may see Nico . . .

These are the shows I'm planning on going to (if I don't end up in Austin for SXSW or out of town on a gig)



Fri 2/25 Secret Machines  / Moving Units  / Autolux  (Trees)

Thu 3/10 Cowboy Mouth  (Gypsy Tea Room)

Sun 3/13 Kings Of Leon  / The Features  (Gypsy Tea Room)

Tue 3/15 Hot Hot Heat  / Louis XIV  (Trees)

Wed 3/16 French Kicks  / Ambulance LTD  / VHS or BETA  (Trees)

Wed 3/16 Trash Can Sinatras & Clem Snide  / Troubled Hubble  (Gypsy Tea Room)

Sat 3/19 The Futureheads  / Shout Out Louds  / High Speed Scene  (Gypsy Tea Room)

Sun 3/20 SON VOLT & Anders Parker (Aardvark - Ft. Worth)

Fri 3/25 The Mountain Goats / Black Mountain / Crystal Skulls

Thu 3/31 The Decemberists  / Okkerville River  (Trees)

4/25 Wilco (OKLAHOMA CITY, OK BRICKTOWN EVENTS CENTER)

4/30 Widespread Panic (Nokia Live)



Secret Machine probably won't happen . . . but I have a lot on my plate right now . . . this should be a good few months.

Quick Update

Two things:

I have an new lead actress and she's much better than the old one! FUCK YEAH!!

and

We have the gig in Upstate NY, it's just not next week . . . FUCK YEAH!!



Everything else is just as absurd as yesterday . . .

And . . .

These mothercukers in fucking upstate new fucking york won't fucking decide if want to fucking pony up the fucking dough to have their fucking dancefloor redone because their fucking insurance company is fucking them and they can't make up their fucking mind as to whether they so fucking suck it up and fucking hand over the fucking dough and fucking settle with the insurance company later, or the want to fuck around and waste our fucking time so we can't fucking nail down a fucking time when this is going to fucking happen, and in-fucking-stead we have to fucking block out a whole motherfucker week. Fuck those fucking fucks, I want my money. Fuckers.

Pissed

I just lost a fucking actress in this fucking show I'm directing and I had to fucking lie to my fucking boss so that I could go on a fucking hunt to find another fucking actress and considering how fucking difficult it was to find the first fucking 45 to 50 year old fucking actress, this is not going to make my fucking week a fucking cakewalk. I'm pissed.

Not having an internet connection sucks.

I'm currently in an odd situation, as I have no ISP at my apt. It was basically going to cost me at best (dial up) $250 and worst (DSL) $450. Now I'm resorting into sneaking into Medical Conventions, or trying my hand at the public library . . . it sucks monkey balls.

Okay, I'm pissed. I talked to my buddy Lucas who saw Bright Eyes last Monday in Fort Worth . . . I would have gone, however, I had a bad experience last time I saw him, and I was broke . . . mind you I could have found the money, but still the combination lead me to not go. So . . . Mr. Fucking Bright Eyes . . . Do me a personal favor, and never come to Texas again. Never schedule a tour through here, in fact, leave Oklahoma alone too. I'm in Dallas and that's just too close to me. Never come back. Pull your CD's from out shelves, ban any magazine with you on the cover, especially those pronouncing you the greatest songwriter of our time, pull your action figures from out Wheaties boxes, and please, please, please, stop allowing Texans to help support your whiney little indie ass. You sir, are from hence forth banned from our state.

This should make you happy since you put on terrible shows here. This should make you happy because you do not talk to you audience here. This should make you happy because you attempt to alienate every Republican Texan by speaking to you OBVIOUSLY MORE LIBERAL THAN THE REST OF THE STATE crowds. This should make you happy because when you come here you berate us and tell us how much you hate Texas. This should make you happy since you think all of us should abandon our roots just like you and move to New York. This should make you happy because you hate all of your fans here, simply because of where we live. And this should make you happy because this is where "W is from" and (this is a quote from you) "Thanks Texas for giving us a really great president" (mockingly of course).

Well pal . . . please don't come back. Thanks, but no thanks. I love your music. I think you ARE one of the greatest songwriters of our time. I think your opinions, when thought about before said and not run through a fifth of bourbon as a filter, are very intelligent. I'm very sad that you are no longer allowed in Texas, but that's just how it works. You're an asshole, you can't play anymore.

And FYI, 51% of this nation voted for W. How many of them listen to your music? How many of them help pay you high-toned NYC rent? How many of them go to you shows?

Obviously I didn't do a poll outside, but I'd make a safe guess that your crowd wasn't exactly a typical Texas crowd. I'd guess that you should be far angrier with those people in the Starbucks across the street than inside the venue. Just a thought . . . and even if they were . . . let's try saving the insults for after show . . . maybe when Texans were ACTIVELY paying off your fucking beach house. There are many a liberal in Texas sir. And you are doing you damnedest to make sure that we leave, instead of fighting the good fight here. YEAH!! THAT'S WHAT I'LL DO!! I'll give up all my efforts to raise the democratic vote in Texas, even though we are 4% points from being a legitimate swing state. I'll gather up all my democratic colleagues and head to NYC!! That's gonna make a difference!! You're right Connor . . . that's why WE pay you the big bucks isn't it?

Listen . . . you're a very emotional guy and I understand that, but please never come back here. I'll fly to Vancouver or San Francisco or INSERT LIBERAL CITY HERE to come see you. I bet you put on great shows there. Of course, it much easier when you are surrounded by people who love the music and just want you to do well . . . wait kinda like Fort Worth . . . or Austin (which you also stated that you "even fucking hate")


So I challenge you sir . . . to never come back, never take any money from a Texan, and never speak of this conversation. Please continue your ridiculous hatred of Texas as a whole and not the Republicans living here.

Goodbye Bright Eyes.

I hope I never see you again . . . Unless it's on cable . . . you playing Amsterdam or something . . . maybe hacky sack . . . that's liberal right? Hacky Sack? Hacky Sack in Amsterdam? Eh, just as long as you're happy. Because it's all about you sir, not those who pay you to alienate them, right? You immature little indie bitch.

Love,
I'll download the hell out of you, but you'll never see a dime from me ever again . . . in Texas.