U N L O A D E D

Well, it seems like an eternity since I decided to announce my entry into the Slamdance screenwriters competition. At the time my hope was to advance enough to get exposure and feedback. And, as some of you may recall, the feedback was VERY POSITIVE.

However, in the end, it just wasn't enough to get over the hump. I've known about my elimination since the end of summer but I've held back on discussing it until now. Why? Because I wasn't sure how I felt. On one hand I was grateful for the favorable review but on the other hand I as perturbed that I didn't advance further. Trying to rationalize the logic of the judges is beyond my control. In fact, it's not even something I should dwell on. It's one loss out of thousands of rejections that are headed my way. It's the nature of the business. But I surmise that even the most seasoned writers deep down agree with me when the rejection comes.

It Sucks!

I don't care how thick skinned you say you are or how many years you've been in whatever business you're in, when you pour your heart and soul into something and they say no, it sucks! "Just give me a chance!!!" You cry. But the decision maker on the other side has heard and seen it all before and has been hardened. There is no mercy. Again, it's the nature of the business. It's not going to change for me or anyone else anytime soon. And even if you're in the inner circle and are paid to write films as a career, it still may suck since your story could get changed to appeal to 13 year olds which will result in higher ticket sales. If that does not rub you the wrong way then just look at the writers strike going on right now. They are living the dream but it's become a nightmare for them right now. TV is heading into reruns and reality show hell with their absence but sooner or later this has to have a happy ending. It's what writers are paid to create no matter how implausible.

Still this "defeat", if you wish to call it such, is a drop in the bucket. In the grand scheme of things it means nothing to lose but a whole lot if you "win."

So What Now?

I can't change what happened and as I said, it's not worth stressing over. There will be more rejection than acceptance as I try to get my work out there. But here's the thing, I've got nothing in the tank right now as far as major stories go. Yes there is this blog and yes it's great to whip out some quick stories to keep the knives from dulling, but I can't get the mojo going and this also sucks.

The other thing that sucks? I have not been motivated to work on the last script I completed.
I feel it's a great story but I also feel overwhelmed by it. So much so that to open it up and begin revisions hurts like hell.

Was it the "defeat" this summer or the series of events that's been distracting me from my priorities? Is it the Blackberry? The current job? This blog? Or fear?

I haven't a clue but the shutdown of sorts scares me. Where did the spark go? Will it come back? Should I forget the whole fucking thing?

These are questions only I can answer and I will have a brutal wrestling match with my thoughts in the weeks to come. "Defeat" should never be a reason to give up in any goal you've set for yourself but loss of will is something you should fight to get back. Without a will, there's not a way. If there's no way, there's no fun to be had at the end. This disturbs me as I want that fun and sense of accomplishment in my life. Unfortunately what I have become at the moment is a working stiff. Just giving enough to make it through the day so I have enough left to make it through the next. And when I say "enough" it's actually a lot.

There's a balance to all of this and once one can figure it out, I think victory is right around the corner. You just have to have an open mind to what that means.

So have you ever lost focus with your goal? Have you lost your motivation? Have you just wanted to say, "damn it all and throw in the towel to be a safe, working stiff?

Unload here.......

Coming up next on U N L O A D E D.......

FRAUD!

Yep, like clockwork ladies and gents. I get to keep my car and no sooner does that happen then a mom in her minivan comes crashing into me on the highway!!!

The accident was not my fault so I get the car fixed for free. This will be of great inconvenience however.

Stay tuned for pictures of the fender bender, they're great!!!

I just fucking love it!!!




UPDATE

As promised, here are pictures of the fender bender. I love how the rear bumper slants, ever so slightly, on the drivers side. It could have been much worse but still it sucks.





























































I spoke with Chubb, the company that insured the woman that hit me and possibly one of the worst named companies ever. Not only do they have a pathetic name, but they had the nerve to say that they can't verify that the woman is insured with them based on the information I provided which was:

• Her name
• Her address
• Her drivers license number
• Her insurance policy number
• Her vehicle identification number
• Her date of birth
• The make of the car
• The year the car was made
• AND THE CASE NUMBER OF THE INCIDENT GIVEN TO ME BY THE CONNECTICUT STATE POLICE WHO WERE AT THE SCENE!!!!

Yes mofos "the Ricardo" has scored a win, big one, just in the nick of time!!!!

Sentimental things come in all shapes and sizes. There's really no limit to what they can be as the human mind will place a connection to something and then build up from there. Attached to these objects may be memories of better times, a reminder of someone special or a sense of security to get you through the day. Odd how a tattered article of clothing or a rabbits foot or a stuffed animal from your childhood can suddenly bring back a rush of feelings that seem to empower you. But do they really?

The year 2000 was the worst period of my life ever. I lost everything and wound up homeless. I recall having to haul all of my possessions to a dumpster and throw them out, one by one. Among them were many sentimental objects that I thought I simply couldn't live without. Among them were my old Atari 2600 and the games I used to play on them as a kid, my Commodore 64 computer that I played as a kid, my music collection on vinyl and cassette. What wasn't thrown out was sold off like my old bike that I had so many adventures on as a kid. How dare does some other punk buy it and use it to have his own adventures on. It was mine damn it!!!!

The dumpster incident was excruciating but there was simply no room for them in my new surroundings which we can call oblivion. I had no idea where I was going to wind up and could only carry what could fit into my car. That was it. I felt like part of me and my identity was dying with each object tossed away. Who was I without these "things?" The answer became clear in the years that followed. A survivor who would, in his darkest moments, be strangely liberated from the material and forced to fight and forge an identity from nothing more than his will. There would be no trademark articles of clothing. No special good luck charms. Nothing to cling to except for me.

To many of you this may sound bleak and I assure you that it was. I am not saying that I don't miss these objects but the lesson I learned from them is simple: Don't let your junk own you.

Junk?

Yes that right I called sentimental things junk. Rubbish, trash! They are objects that facilitated fun but they may not have been the source of fun or comfort or security. The source is not the object, it's you. Do we wish to have a tangible thing to hold that makes our memories more vivid? Perhaps, yes. But in the objectifying we tend to place or give too much power over them. I have seen numerous adults cling to things to the point that it defies reason. They are paralyzed by the thought of making a trip without the object or keeping it in a certain place in their house because...well they can't even give you a straight answer. And don't you dare try to explain that it's not as big of a deal they think. That will start a war.

You are insensitive, you don't understand, you have no respect.

Keeping a Level Head

Naturally there are some things that simply can't be replaced like a gift from a dear relative that has passed or something that a friend gave you before going off to the other side of the world. Maybe the object is something you discovered and clung to after a very traumatic event. It's all quite understandable really. But would you believe the answer to this is in a film that was fun to watch but low on substance? What was that film? Top Gun.

What!??!

Yeah, I know, it's weird but hear me out on this. The Maverick character (Tom Cruise) is a flying ace and his buddy Goose (Anthony Edwards) is his co-pilot and best friend. The 2 have a terrible mishap in their F-14 where the engines give out and they go into free fall. After desperate attempts to right the plane they eject. Maverick is thrown safely from from harms way but Goose is killed when his head smashes into the cockpit window, snapping his neck. Maverick feels responsible for the death of Goose and holds onto his id tags (dog tags for you military folk) and brings them with him on each flight. We think as the viewer that this will empower Maverick to fly higher than he ever did before. It doesn't. It cripples his ability and his Top Gun teammates begin to wonder what's going on with him.

In the films final moments Maverick, standing on the deck of an an aircraft carrier, gives one final look at the dog tags of his fallen friend and throws them out into the sea. This was not a gesture of forgetting about his friend, but letting go of an object that he gave to much power to. Goose lives on in his memory and heart. He does not need the tags to properly honor him.

We Keep Holding On

The human mind will always try and make something tangible out of certain intangible things. It's why we hold onto these objects. Even after writing this, I may pick up a few sentimental things myself and bask in their comfort before realizing that it's not the object that can give me comfort. It's me, it's you, it's all of us.

And that is more powerful than anything material thing you can hold onto.


Coming up next on U N L O A D E D.......

The nightmare log. I'll recount my nightly, vivid and strange dreams that I've been having as of late. They're lots of fun.

The news that my biological father died of colon cancer 2 years ago.

The resurfacing of my fathers "brother" via a phone call.

The promise of money due to several accidents my father endured while still alive.

When I last wrote I told you the details of a conversation I had with my "fathers brother." Some of you feel that the way I addressed him was a way of me separating myself from someone I didn't like. A person who I think is a con artist. Why not just call him an uncle? Well that's the thing, he's not really my uncle and he's not really my father's brother. My father and he were cousins who grew so close to one another that they consider themselves brothers. But if he were my actual uncle, I would use that terminology, so you guys know me pretty well or do you? The more I reveal about myself here, the less you'll actually know. Call it mystery, call it mystique, I just call it the nature of things.

For the sake of continuing our story, we will call this "brother" of my father, A. And we pick up with A and I continuing the conversation from the previous post.

A: I just couldn't get involved so, you know I left it all up to your uncle. He knows all about the case. The one with your father getting hit by the car. It's not settled yet but there's money.

Me: These things can take years...yes.

A: I really begged your father to at least leave something behind for you. He was never there for you and...it's the least he could have done. Like I said, there's nothing else left but his bible. Everything else is gone. I'm giving things away too because the end could be close.

Me: I'm not here for the money.

A: Oh, no one's saying that. It's just a nice thing he could have done for you. One more thing, your grandmother is in a nursing home now, she would love to see you if you can visit. I can't make it down there all the time with my condition.

Me: Well I.....

A: It's been a rough few years for me but as long as I'm alive you have a place to stay here in Brooklyn. After all, we're family. That's what really matters.

Me: Thanks. You know...while I can't top your news today...I had a rough few years that I almost didn't make it out of....

A: Yeah well, you sound great and be sure to call your uncle. I have to go to church. Take care. Bye.

CLICK!

If he didn't jump off the phone so quick I would have told him to be sure to bring my fathers bible along with him. He'd need it to keep up his new religious front.

All About A

A is a character, late 50's to early 60's, pencil thin mustache, slicked back hair, diamond earing in one ear and an early 80's Cadillac that makes him look a bit like an over the hill pimp. A spent his better days drinking and dancing at the Copacabana. Yes it's a real place in New York City and I've been there and wish never to return. But I went, A forced me there. It was a free buffet night which was A's favourite. I got yelled at for wearing my leather jacket inside by some over the hill attendant that really wanted me to pay 5 bucks to have it hung in the coat room. I told him to "go fuck himself" and demanded to A that we leave. A was too busy hitting on a cigarette girl less than half his age. She was a stunner but looked to be annoyed at lugging around a box full of cigaretts and his advances. "I've spent so much money on her through tipping, my God." He declared to me with awe and lust. But all the tipping in the world wasn't going to get him laid, not by her at least. He was a stud only in his mind and seemed to be comfortable with that. Every man has their bliss I suppose.

The food at the free buffet was awful by the way and the clientèle were very Latin in all the wrong ways. And while I despised the Barry Manilow song named after this place before the incident, it causes me to shudder now. Actually, anything by Barry also induces me to vomit, but that's another post.

The astute reader will recall that I had a grandmother that recently died, she was on my mothers side and the one that mattered most to me. The one on my fathers side I barely knew nor did I really want to. This was all becoming too much for me at once. I placed a call to my uncle per A's orders. I got the voice mail.

Me: Hey, it's your nephew. Listen I know my father's dead, I talked to A about it and he says there's some lawsuit and money and you're overseeing it but this is A so...I don't know. I don't know about this. Call me and tell me what this is all about because...I don't know about this.

My first meeting with L

When I became reacquainted with my fathers side of the family at 21 this uncle was one of the few bright spots. We'll call him L. L is very business minded and has his head screwed on straight or at least more so than everyone else in my so called family. I liked him, even though our first night out involved infiltrating a gay bar so he could sell designer shot glasses to the owner. It was supposed to be a quick run but the owner kept disappearing in the back to do blow. While L chased her around trying to hammer down a deal, I was left to my own devices with L's friend who we'll call P.

This is not a good situation for a straight man to be in and P was ready to cause trouble. He was a straight man with an agenda. When not trying to provoke the bar patrons he would interfere with my only source of refuge, a hot bar maid that knew, just by looking at us, that we didn't belong there and thought I was cute. Every time I would move in P would make a move on her as well. I finally asked him what his fucking problem was. He gave me a speech on how he doesn't take BS from anyone, took out his gun, put it to my head then tucked it back into his jacket. I told him to do it again. He was taken aback. I demanded that he say what he said to me and do what he just did, again. If he thought he was such a bad ass, then I would show him bad ass sans weaponry. I don't need weapons to get my point across, just a few well placed words. He did it again. I leaned my forehead into the barrel, looked into him eyes and told him to "go fuck himself."

He put the gun away, hugged me and said anyone with a set of balls like that would be his friend for life. He vowed that if anyone crossed me, that they would be taken care of promptly. I never took P at his word but appreciated the gesture of friendship.

The stupid things men say and do when drunk and in the presence of a beautiful woman.

Yes L would hold the answers and shed new light on my fathers final moments. And these details will be shared with you here, on this blog, in full detail.....

(looks at the clock, takes a sip of wine and eases back into his chair)

But not tonight.

Tonight I will venture outward. Tonight I will fall into the sensual world known as the night life and welcome it's touch, it's embrace, it's rapture. Tonight I will attempt to feel the warmth and power of a woman's body next to mine. Tonight I will temporarily forget this madness so I can return and tell you the rest.

I didn't necessarily agree to this, but the lovely Maritza from Jump in the Ocean was determined to ask me these questions anyway. It stemmed from a post that she did not so long ago here and involves bloggers coming up with 4 questions to ask bloggers. She is in charge and I have no say in what she asks me. Being a man who is not fond of being put on the spot, I was a bit concerned at first. I could always reject the questions entirely but then again what fun would that be? Instead I sat back and waited for them to arrive via email. Instead of dodging them, I would maneuver myself swiftly and gracefully (yet firmly) though them with my powers of persuasion and charm.

Maritza's questions arrived, and here they are:


1. Describe a moment in your life when everything just seemed to come together. If you don't have such a moment, how about when everything fell apart?

I can't specifically recall everything coming together (it will eventually) but I can recall instances where it all fell apart. The most recent was 7 years ago when my grandfather had a stroke and the fight between how to administer care for him resulted in a row with my family that has yet to be reconciled. Since my grandparents raised me I saw their home (which was also my home) get dismantled and sold off to strangers. Things that had been part of my family for years and part of so many key moments were suddenly being haggled over. My family turned against me and confiscated my car to joyride in and to take care of business regarding which conversant home my grandparents would go to. They refused to rent car. This prevented me from working, which prevented me from earning money and left me unable to find a place of my own.

The ordeal left me out on the street and broke.

I was forced to throw all of my possessions into a dumpster except for the cloths I had in some suitcases and what didn't fit into suitcases went into trash bags. I got the car back and that almost became my home. It was a very dehumanizing experience that no one should go through. It taught me to trust no one and rely only on me. I have no concept of what "family" is nor do I have any interest. I roll solo.

2. Health or wealth?

Health, I can use the vitality to go out and earn wealth. HA!

3. What do you do to find women? Bar crawler, personal ads, mail order - what's your M.O.?

Ah-ha! I believe this to be the true M.O. of our dear friend Maritza. These other questions are fluff. This question is not one but many and all are loaded.

But this is where I unload so, never being one to leave a beautiful woman in the lurch, I will answer in the most gentlemanly way possible. My dear Maritza, as I answer this, I'm looking deep into your eyes and speaking very softly and sincerely.

While I had great fun with the mail order bride posts, I don't want a woman who just wants me for my green card. I want to be wanted for me. Nothing more or less really. I'm sure you understand as, after all, isn't that what we all want? I'm sure you do my sweet Maritza.

Now, there are numerous ways to meet women and bars and places like that are a start and actually my best resource at the moment. As for the M.O. you speak of, there are times I want to be loved, there are times when want to feel like a prince, there are times I want to feel raw emotion and there are times I just want a good fuck. What separates the men from the boys is knowing what woman is suitable for which need and at what time. The mood and atmosphere must be right and the judgment must be quick and decisive. When she's ready he must take her into his grasp. It could be done firmly but better to be done gently.

This is not vulgar, but honest and natural. And this is what I strive to be, my love.

(I run my hand down Maritza's cheek, smile then ease back into my chair awaiting the next question)

4. What's the one thing you wish for?

To get one of these damn screenplays produced so I can look back at my life and say,"You see that movie? I wrote that."

Coming up next on U N L O A D E D, good bye papa!

You know, I try and keep the details of my job off of this blog because I don't want to get dooced like blogger Heather B Armstrong did a few years back. I like my job. I have no issue with it whatsoever UNTIL they screw me over on my taxes.

No, my grievances on this years taxes are NOT about King George's draconian policies that favour the rich over the poor. They are instead directed at my employer. In many ways they have topped our leader through carelessness.

How? Someone misread my tax information and claimed that I listed 7, yes 7, dependents on my taxes when in reality I listen one; MYSELF!!!! Now some of you may think, "Oh they must have read your 1 as a 7. If you think that, then you're wrong! Don't believe me? Look at a standard W-4 form here. Notice that the only way I can come up with 7 is if I place a 1 next to each line or specifically list 7 in line D. You know, the line that's asking about my dependents which basically means kids. Yeah that's right, KIDS which I don't fucking have or want! The ones many of you are raising right now. Those kids. And if I did have brats it wouldn't be that many because my name isn't Kevin fucking Federline NOR am I one of those Latin guys that knocks up hoochie mamas in between drug runs in the hood. If that were the case, I'd have gold teeth and my name would be Jesus! That's pronounced Hay-soos for those of you non Latin folk out there and Hay-soos would probably be too dumb to do my job.

I DON'T HAVE ANY KIDS! PERIOD!!!

Bottom line here is that because of this "inaccuracy" I now owe thousands of dollars to the IRS and am also being fined by them. Of course those who keep track of this stuff at my current employer have helped me correct the situation but have offered little in the way of, at the very least, apologising for the mistake. I think it fair that they at least help out with the fine. But as with most of these companies, they'll just find a way to twist things around so that in the end it's all your fault even though you did everything right. They'll claim it's in the best interest of the company and then turn around and offer a golden parachute to a high level executive who helped drive that company into the ground. Corporate logic is always good for a laugh, but this time I'm not laughing.

My wish for 2007? That the people handling this stuff learn how to read W-4's. Sorry guys but you blew this one, not me and I'll tell it like it is because outside of the office this is my blog and my rules.

Disclaimer: Ricardo holds no grudges against Latinos as he himself is one nor does he hold any grudges against his employer or people named Jesus. He's just mad and this too shall pass.

Still to come on U N L O A D E D, I answer Maritza's burning questions and give an unsure send off to the father who never was.

I was tagged a few days back by MsQ over at QMusings which is a great blog that you should check out if you have the chance. The question was a compelling one; what are my obsessive thoughts? While many of us don't consider ourselves to be obsessive, there are things that inhabit our minds far too often during the course of a day and maybe even expend our much needed energy. This was something that may not only be fun to write about but therapeutic too. Well, therapeutic in the sense that I learn to be less obsessive about these things.

And without further ado, my obsessive thoughts.

1. My Life

This seems to be obvious right? We all worry about our life, but I need to stop beating myself up over the fact that I want my life in a better place than it is now which involves figuring out the next step. I have expended so much energy wanting to know the next step that by the time I figure it out, I'm too tired to take it. How's that for a double edged sword? This can be fixed however and I think the solution is in taking smaller steps.

2.Money

I'm not some money grubbing idiot but since tax time is here I've been thinking way too much about money. Having gone through some very lean times last year, I was always figuring out how to stretch a dollar and wishing it could stretch further. There never seems to be enough of it even now that I have a decent job that pays a good wage. The money seems to just get sucked away by a vacuum and I have no logical explanation as to why. Maybe this is what money does. Maybe money is evil. I'm heading out to do my taxes soon so another evil entity (the IRS) can take yet more money from me. I'm giddy with anticipation.

3.Sex

By this I just don't mean the physical act but also relationships (or lack thereof) and meeting the right women. Granted, as a man I have an adult film that runs through my head most of the day which is interrupted by thoughts of consuming food, watching a movie, work responsibilities and so on. These thoughts, along with the desire for real companionship, are actually motivators. This is what gets a young guy out and about looking for the right woman. But as I go out on the weekend and scan the bar scene, it comes to my attention that I'm living in the land of potential Stepford Wives. There's not very much in the way of originality here in Connecticut. Single women here talk about how they are on a "biological schedule" and feel entitled to a man buying them the most expensive ring available so they can get knocked up and have a house bought for them. I get the sense that they don't want someone to actually be involved with but rather someone who fits their self imposed time table. Where's the women that dream big or have ambitions? Not that wanting to start a family is wrong or selling out in any sense, I commend people who start and support families. Everyone knows it's loads of work and commitment but, for me, it's not where I'm going. I'll have to stick with the mental porn and snag a one night stand if the situation arises. Those are a blast.

4. Traffic

Not traffic to this site (which is minuscule) but REAL traffic. The kind I face getting into work which can sometimes take up to 2 hours! People say I should move closer to my job but honestly, it doesn't shave any time off from my commute. Or should I say, not enough to pay 500 bucks more for a place each month. Yes traffic jams have consumed my life and my first thought in the morning is, "I wonder if the traffic is going to be bad today?"

5. Doubt

I think everyone's biggest enemy is self doubt. If I could have this element surgically removed from me I would. It's only then that I would be unstoppable. Think about all the times you've talked yourself out of doing something bold. Think of what could have been had you chosen to go bold. Maddening, isn't it?

Coming up next on U N L O A D E D, Ricardo unleashes his fury on the money owed for this years taxes but not on the tax collector. But why not the IRS? Stay tunned to find out.

And coming up later, is he dead or alive? A send off to the father who never was.

It is a very rare thing to find a guy who can critically process a David Lynch film AND shift gears into the crazy world of professional wrestling which is now called "sports entertainment." But I am such a man and damn proud of it.

Yes, dear readers, tonight I'm going to check out the latest David Lynch epic Inland Empire and on April 9th I will be attending WWE RAW at The Harbor Yard in Bridgeport, CT which sits just along the polluted Long Island Sound. The last time RAW was held there a very well choreographed fight was done along the boardwalk involving John Cena and Edge which resulted in Edge being thrown into the Sound. What a carnage it was!

I'm also thrilled at going because I have 2nd row seats! Yes mofos, you may actually see me on TV, jumping up and down like a crazed maniac or waving a sign, as someone gets thrown through a table or hit with a steel chair. Now this is absolutely exciting and I'm doing all I can to stop myself from bouncing off the walls.

I hear some of you now:

Confused reader: "Why would you watch something so stupid? Don't you know it's fake?"

Me: "Yes it's fixed but it's still fun to watch and people do get seriously injured no matter how well planned this stuff is."

Confused reader: "So you want people to really get hurt?"

Me: "Not at all. I want them to stay healthy and I respect them as athletes and performers."

Confused reader: "I still don't get it, you're a weirdo."

Me: " I am indeed, but there is more to the tale."





Professional Wrestling as Family Tradition

My grandparents used to watch wrestling at Madison Square Garden when they were young and kept watching it until my grandfather suffered a stroke in 2000. I grew up with it and turned away from the mayhem when I got older and fancied myself an artistic snob. In fact, I remember my acting teachers spitting venom at these men and women because they were being lauded as actors or performers and it was an insult to the craft. "How dare they!" I would think to myself. However, it really wasn't an insult because none of us in there would be able to withstand the physical punishment these people go through day in and day out. Sure you can learn how to fall or land to minimize damage but if I pick you up and drop you a good 5 feet to the floor over and over, it's going to hurt no matter what you do. Is wrestling as highbrow as say, a Fellini film? No, but who says everything has to be? This error in judgment that my acting teachers and many of us "artistically minded" folk do is really steeped in our insecurities. We want to be perceived as highbrow and avoid the "bad" to project a highbrow image. Sometimes we do it to the point of depriving ourselves of fun.

It was in visiting my grandparents in the convalescent home after my grandfathers stroke that this ridiculous pastime came back into the picture. Only it wasn't ridiculous, it was fun just as it had been when I watched it as a kid. My grandfather, one side of his body paralyzed, speech slurred, and anger at his reduced state, would perk up when I brought up wrestling. My grandmother would also follow suit and they would want to know about the latest rivalries and so on. It became clear to me that a good distraction for them would be for me to watch RAW on Monday nights just as they did and come in each Sunday to update them. The other bonus to this is that I was transient and while my grandparents knew I was in trouble, they didn't know how bad. As long as people were taking me in and had cable to TV, I could focus their attention on something fun and not my own wretched state.

It worked, and once again I was hooked. Even when my grandfather passed away and my grandmother was brought backed to Puerto Rico to enjoy her final days, I was still hooked and remain so now.

And the result? Second row seats mofos!!!!

(DX taunt to all the fans that know what that is)


On Inland Empire

Sure I have to make a long trip back down to Stamford ,which is where I work and ialso the world headquarters of the WWE, but it's the only place showing it and for 1 week only.

I'm excited to see it even if it is a grueling 3 hours and will have a review up for it, but not on this blog. Ill let you know where and when I do.

I got hooked on David Lynch's work when I started watching the amazing Twin Peaks. What started out as a crush on Shelly the Waitress has ultimately progressed into something that has influenced me in my screenplays and taste in films. He's had an impact, a tremendous one, but will this film open new doors for me as a fan?

The answers, for you, when I return.