Jesus X. Christ, exciting things are happening errywhere. Either I saved 15 babies from a burning house while sleepwalking or the universe is just front loading all the good stuff in the first quarter of my life (which I believe is called "Starbucks frappuccino-ing"), but I can't believe how well things are working out lately.
For starters, I landed the internship that I was warily crossing my fingers for. I'm going to be helping out an A-list acting coach out in Santa Monica who is transitioning to directing. The interview was about 5 minutes long and went more or less like this:
"What do you want to do in 10 years?"
"Write for movies and television."
"Writing is your passion?"
"Yes."
"Do you like to read scripts?"
"Yes."
"Watch movies?"
"Yes."
"Would you be interested in helping me by reading scripts and watching movies?"
<falls to floor unconscious, but twitching from ongoing involuntary neural transmissions to the brain: HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY>
"You must be a Pisces. Pisces like watching movies."
So yeah, I'm really hoping this works out. My one concern is the time commitment, which will likely be 15-20 hours a week. I do get compensated for gas and a very small monthly stipend, but I'm going to be interviewing with a bakery later this week, and after bragging about my astoundingly empty schedule on the phone I hope they don't immediately toss me out.
It's very one-day-at-a-time as of now. But that's okay, because I've never even done two days at a time, and chronologically I don't know how that's possible.
Money is definitely the key source of stress right now, but I'm privileged enough to have some fallback to work with until I can get on my own two feet. Sorry if that makes my story less exciting. These stakes are medium-rare.
It's an analogy AND a pun!
Speaking of money, I went to what was probably the best free concert of my whole life last night at The Satellite in Silverlake. This was my first "being a young trendy person in Silverlake" experience, and after last night I've determined that no amount of hipster-criticism-cynicism would make me avoid a great music scene purely on principle. Which leads me to today's segment...
Before I begin, let's all get it out of our systems:
Yes, we all know. Hipsters are the death of humanity and no worse type of human being has yet to crawl across the face of this feeble earth. But somewhere between now and the initial explosion of hipsters and subsequent calling-out-of-hipsters a few years back, people got like... absurdly defensive and went on a crazy hipster witch hunt.
Drawing from my whole whopping semester of formal symbolic logic, I'm going to break it down. Bear with the intellectual jargon, I understand that it's annoying. But I don't care. Also, you're fat.
We've got the most basic building block of logical inference, which is called modus ponens and is structured as such:
Premise 1: If A, then B.
Premise 2: A.
Conclusion: B.
So for example:
Premise 1: If it's raining today, I am not bothering to brush my teeth.
Premise 2: It is raining today.
Conclusion: I am not bothering to brush my teeth.
Now, a common logical fallacy is to assume that the reverse is true:
Premise 1: If A, then B.
Premise 2: B.
Conclusion: A.
Does this work? Let's see.
Premise 1: If it's raining today, I am not bothering to brush my teeth.
Premise 2: I am not bothering to brush my teeth.
Conclusion: It's raining.
Unless you have a magic weather-controlling toothbrush-- and I know you don't, I read the International Toothbrush Development Association monthly newsletter-- this is silly. So. Now that I've exposed just how much a pretentious nerd I am when it comes to formal logic, what exactly am I getting at? Well, basically this: at some point people began flipping their As and Bs. For some reason everyone began following lines of logic like this:
Premise 1: If that person's a hipster, they enjoy The Postal Service.
Premise 2: They enjoy The Postal Service.
Conclusion: That person's a hipster. Let's complain to differentiate ourselves from them for the next 5 minutes!
Basically, it doesn't make any logical sense to call someone a hipster because they like good coffee, enjoyed Catcher in the Rye, or go to raves in the middle of the woods. Not to mention I don't get why those things would carry a negative connotation. I get the whole white-wash culture misappropriation thing, and the ignorant spoiled rich kids who rock the "poor-person look" because it's totes chic thing-- and that brand of hipster is definite hippo shit. I think we're all on the same page when it comes to hippo shit. But c'mon, if you're going to pay $4 more for a beer solely because you don't want to be seen in public drinking a PBR, then you're stupid, and your insecurity is going to leave you legit-poor AND less drunk. But at least you'll be seen holding that fancy IPA, and everyone will respect you. Because if there's one thing I don't associate with hipsters, it's IPAs...
I more or less launched into that whole spiel to let you know that this show I went to was the 'nads. We saw four bands who were all legitimately face-meltingly awesome: The Infantree, The Diamond Light, The Janks, and P L a N E T S. I had favorites, but there wasn't a single band that I didn't completely rock out to. In spite of being the opening band, The Infantree was definitely up at the top for me. They had a cool sort of alt-folk-indie-rock vibe that wasn't completely diluted by pop, unlike the seven songs continually looped on 98.7 FM.
Favorite performance, however, was hands-down P L a N E T S. They brought black face paint,
distributed papier mache wolf-claws made out of old book pages, and geared everyone up for their set by having people dressed in eery wolf costumes roam around the venue and nuzzle people's legs. They wore crazy masks and paint, and every song had something crazy to add to the experience... like an acrobatically-choreographed modern dance duet in the middle of the pit, film projections on the walls, a giant dancing robot, and at some point the people in costumes went around giving out sections of weird books to everyone in the audience, so when they reached a certain point in the show everyone tore up their book-pieces and threw them into the air... the entire second half of the show was like Flashdance but with paper instead of water.
Normally I feel really uncomfortable destroying books, but I put that feeling on the shelf (HA) for this performance.
Words to describe P L a N E T S: dark, weird, creative, alternative, narrative, good-humored, clever, prophetic. Check 'em out.
Okay, I'm spent. I have spent WAY too much time writing this blog instead of working on finishing my pilot. Ugh. It fucking HURTS to write. Am I doing something wrong? Should I not be holding the pencil with my eyelid?
"Calm down, she's lying. Nobody writes things with pencils. Those are just for hair decorations and dentist goodie bags."
For starters, I landed the internship that I was warily crossing my fingers for. I'm going to be helping out an A-list acting coach out in Santa Monica who is transitioning to directing. The interview was about 5 minutes long and went more or less like this:
"What do you want to do in 10 years?"
"Write for movies and television."
"Writing is your passion?"
"Yes."
"Do you like to read scripts?"
"Yes."
"Watch movies?"
"Yes."
"Would you be interested in helping me by reading scripts and watching movies?"
<falls to floor unconscious, but twitching from ongoing involuntary neural transmissions to the brain: HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY>
"You must be a Pisces. Pisces like watching movies."
So yeah, I'm really hoping this works out. My one concern is the time commitment, which will likely be 15-20 hours a week. I do get compensated for gas and a very small monthly stipend, but I'm going to be interviewing with a bakery later this week, and after bragging about my astoundingly empty schedule on the phone I hope they don't immediately toss me out.
 |
| "I wonder why they gave me this free box of office supplies..." |
 |
| Though I bet Rufus knows. |
It's an analogy AND a pun!
Speaking of money, I went to what was probably the best free concert of my whole life last night at The Satellite in Silverlake. This was my first "being a young trendy person in Silverlake" experience, and after last night I've determined that no amount of hipster-criticism-cynicism would make me avoid a great music scene purely on principle. Which leads me to today's segment...
An Unintentionally Long Aside on the Subject of Hipsters
Before I begin, let's all get it out of our systems:
Silverlake is just full of so many god damn hipsters oh my god can you believe how many hipsters there are in this one area with all their polka dots and their designer beanies and their black-frame glasses with no lenses and their obscure music and weird progressive art and all their pretentious craft-beer loving fake-poor dressing fashionable-hippie posing youth?! God it makes me want to vomit, I just want to scoop my eye-pulp out with a carving spoon whenever I see these god damn motherfucking hipsters walking down the street in Echo Park on their way to a sushi restaurant wearing overalls and cutesy little 1960s high-waist shorts talking about My Morning Jacket or Perks of Being a Wallflower or The Darjeeling Limited while drinking some kind of medium-roast blend coffee I've never tried made with organically-harvested beans and some unnecessarily uppity ingredient like mint-infused jojoba extract or basil leaves.
Yes, we all know. Hipsters are the death of humanity and no worse type of human being has yet to crawl across the face of this feeble earth. But somewhere between now and the initial explosion of hipsters and subsequent calling-out-of-hipsters a few years back, people got like... absurdly defensive and went on a crazy hipster witch hunt.
Drawing from my whole whopping semester of formal symbolic logic, I'm going to break it down. Bear with the intellectual jargon, I understand that it's annoying. But I don't care. Also, you're fat.
We've got the most basic building block of logical inference, which is called modus ponens and is structured as such:
Premise 1: If A, then B.
Premise 2: A.
Conclusion: B.
So for example:
Premise 1: If it's raining today, I am not bothering to brush my teeth.
Premise 2: It is raining today.
Conclusion: I am not bothering to brush my teeth.
Now, a common logical fallacy is to assume that the reverse is true:
Premise 1: If A, then B.
Premise 2: B.
Conclusion: A.
Does this work? Let's see.
Premise 1: If it's raining today, I am not bothering to brush my teeth.
Premise 2: I am not bothering to brush my teeth.
Conclusion: It's raining.
Unless you have a magic weather-controlling toothbrush-- and I know you don't, I read the International Toothbrush Development Association monthly newsletter-- this is silly. So. Now that I've exposed just how much a pretentious nerd I am when it comes to formal logic, what exactly am I getting at? Well, basically this: at some point people began flipping their As and Bs. For some reason everyone began following lines of logic like this:
Premise 1: If that person's a hipster, they enjoy The Postal Service.
Premise 2: They enjoy The Postal Service.
Conclusion: That person's a hipster. Let's complain to differentiate ourselves from them for the next 5 minutes!
Basically, it doesn't make any logical sense to call someone a hipster because they like good coffee, enjoyed Catcher in the Rye, or go to raves in the middle of the woods. Not to mention I don't get why those things would carry a negative connotation. I get the whole white-wash culture misappropriation thing, and the ignorant spoiled rich kids who rock the "poor-person look" because it's totes chic thing-- and that brand of hipster is definite hippo shit. I think we're all on the same page when it comes to hippo shit. But c'mon, if you're going to pay $4 more for a beer solely because you don't want to be seen in public drinking a PBR, then you're stupid, and your insecurity is going to leave you legit-poor AND less drunk. But at least you'll be seen holding that fancy IPA, and everyone will respect you. Because if there's one thing I don't associate with hipsters, it's IPAs...
-------------------------End diatribe, resume picking toes-------------------------
I more or less launched into that whole spiel to let you know that this show I went to was the 'nads. We saw four bands who were all legitimately face-meltingly awesome: The Infantree, The Diamond Light, The Janks, and P L a N E T S. I had favorites, but there wasn't a single band that I didn't completely rock out to. In spite of being the opening band, The Infantree was definitely up at the top for me. They had a cool sort of alt-folk-indie-rock vibe that wasn't completely diluted by pop, unlike the seven songs continually looped on 98.7 FM.
Favorite performance, however, was hands-down P L a N E T S. They brought black face paint,
 |
| Behold: my post-show melt mess and a little face action for all the cyber-pervs |
 |
| All right, boys, drop the stack of newspapers on three. |
Words to describe P L a N E T S: dark, weird, creative, alternative, narrative, good-humored, clever, prophetic. Check 'em out.
Okay, I'm spent. I have spent WAY too much time writing this blog instead of working on finishing my pilot. Ugh. It fucking HURTS to write. Am I doing something wrong? Should I not be holding the pencil with my eyelid?
"Calm down, she's lying. Nobody writes things with pencils. Those are just for hair decorations and dentist goodie bags."
 |
| "A temporary tattoo of a surfing tooth? What is this shit?" |
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