3/3/09 - Some Observations for this already short day...

1. My predictive text has begun a revolution against me. T9 must stand for "Total A9hilation".

2. When I have 30 minutes to clean my room, I clean it in 30 minutes. When I have 3 hours it takes me 4.

3. I am officially sick of long hair, but short does not seem a bright alternative.

4. Movies and TV on my computer are the enemy.

6. It takes shooting at least 20 pictures to get 1 amazing one. I should post only the 1 on Facebook. It will make me look more talented, but now I need to take 300 pictures per session. That way I can post 15 good ones.

6a. Scratch that it takes at least 100 pictures to get to 1 amazing one. Oh crud...

7. Just when I think I know Photoshop pretty well, I realize I need to learn a LOT more.

8. If this is the state of indie music today, then I'm depressed. Take rule #6a and apply it to this. Maybe I need some better suggestions.

9. I'm excited about my upcoming photo shoots.

10. Despite #3 my beard is coming in nicely. Cowboy and Hobo roles here I come. Watch out Mr. Johnson.

11. Who are Thomas Tantrum? They seem like 1 in a 100.

12. Start a blog with random contests on it, like "worst Sean Connery impressions" etc. The prize is instant stardom.

13. Finally start that website of pics of objects that look like faces. Geesh!

14. How many Jens Lekman wannabes do there have to be?

15. Why did "He's Just Not That Into You" have to be so accurate? Since when do cliche' poorly written Chick Flicks make sense? (With the exception of the ending, and the cheesiness).

16. When I was little my mom taught me to try and make only one trip when putting stuff away. This might have become more of a hindrance now than a help.

18. I feel chill.

Third Life Crisis: A Tale of Cliche' Horror.

Last night as my old friends Matt Mattson and Adam Borg stood in the kitchen of my apartment, We reminisced about when we all lived in the corner house across from the Provo library back in the day. They were fun times when we would sit in circles in one of our rooms and play the guitar and the occasional Halo, and last in order of importance maybe have girls over.

I said to them "We never do anything anymore! We lack spontaneity." I in particular have grown comfortable sitting in my room on a Saturday night, designing websites and waxing satirical on blogs about nothing in particular. The question arises, 'What does one blog about if one does nothing?'

So this horror movie begins the way many have been known to; friends sitting around reminiscing about the past, and then deciding that they should all go do something stupid to relive the glory days.

Our destination would be a certain Utah landmark that is now abandoned and which will remain nameless...ah heck, to not reveal it would render the rest of this story pointless. Also I had a key and was given permission to go out there by the city, so I can't really imagine that we would get in trouble for following the rules...Although I don't know if going out there at 1 in the morning is what they had in mind when they entrusted me with it.

It was the old abandoned Utah County Jail, a place with no electricity, and damp prison cells.

We jumped in my grown man car, and picked up our good friend William Rubio, (another "corner house" alum). We were in luck as Will brought his camera/camcorder and we all laughed nervously at the various cliche's we voluntarily fulfilled.

"Haha! Hey get me on camera! It will be like that sad message to my friends before we were never heard from again."

On a last note of romantic finality I called my friend Cherie, and told her "that if I don't answer my phone for the next few days, please come out to the Utah County Jail, and find our bodies." She laughed and said she personally wouldn't come, but she WOULD send someone else.

I for one had audibly told myself on the drive up that I don't believe in ghosts. Apparently I protested too much, and Will kept reminding me all through the night, how much I assured myself that I wasn't scared.

"This isn't so bad! Heh heh..."

But as we approached the gate, the jail presented itself an imposing figure. A mish-mash of 3 decades of tired architecture, forced institutional pleasantness, pitch dark windows and dead trees, that almost dared you to enter. We "laughed" some more, an outward expression of our "crying" inside.

I parked outside the entrance hugging the building with my car as not to be seen from the road. We looked up and perched on a ledge one hundred feet above us overlooking the jail was an Elementary School. I thought to myself what a poor geographical choice some city planner had made with that.

"Hey let's put all the curious kiddies right next to the tetanus factory."

"Great idea Charles! Now I know why you were elected."

On a cement bench near the entrance I pondered a large handheld "Slow" traffic sign and a trophy for a softball team circa 1987 sitting side by side, the kind of odd mix of memorabilia that collects around old empty buildings.

Finally as I turned the key to the entrance of the jail, we looked down the long dark corridor with our maglites, and shivered out loud, unsure of what the next hour would bring.

We told ourselves that there were two rules:
1. Stick together. Is this not the most obvious rule to follow in a horror movie? For the love of all that is holy (or unholy as the current case may be), why would you split up in a place like this?

and...

2. None of those stupid pranks where you jump out or scream in abandoned echoes around corners to spook each other. This is so childish, and the place was frightening enough without these gems of immaturity. This rule however quickly flew out one of the many broken windows, as the further we delved into the building the further we regressed into childhood. This was scout camp "capture the flag", 2am "T.P." missions, truth or dare in the light of nintendo living rooms, and snipe hunting compressed. How could we not devolve into children one last time?

The building as when it functioned as a jail continued to be a magnet for disreputable characters...like ourselves on this night. It had become a haven for punk kids and homeless people, as all buildings that have been left for dead eventually do. Of course there were the occasional movie crews, and photo buffs that had legally gained entrance to the building. "Forever Strong" had been shot here two summers before, and seeing the cheaply built flats, and other remnants of production design left behind, one could imagine this as a poor filmmakers dream. Besides the obvious jail setting, with proper lighting and minimal set design, it could easily pass for a hospital or school. I learned however that the place had been stripped of it's copper wiring by vandals some months earlier, rendering it powerless.

The bad kids always ruin the fun for the rest of us.

We carefully found our way around broken hallways and shattered lightbulbs, and I having been here twice before but only in daytime, was our guide of default.

The rooms were each gloomy in their emptiness and in my mind I began a checklist of the reasons this place and others like it were so frightening; mostly variations on the same theme.

The obvious first, was the darkness, or the mystery just beyond our humble illumination. The question of what lies on the outskirts of the circumference of light our mechanical torches created. The shadows, and reflections that become twisted and monstrous phantoms when shot through panes of broken glass, and around bending corners of dry wall.

The second being the weirdness and feel of the buildings layout. It was a maze of additions and bastardizations of once feng shui'd compartments, brought on by years of hasty necessity.

"We need a storage closet here Tommy!"

"But Frank, this is the middle of the cafeteria."

"Well then fill up the space around it with offices, and a bathroom"

It had the feel of a first world favela, a mix of shacks and shanties on a Brazilian hillside. This weird geometry answered for me why they had left this place to start anew somewhere else. It was the architectural equivalent of escaping a sinking ship.

Yet with this cramped and busy feel there still was a strong sense of emptiness. It stretched out longly North to South like a vast cruise liner that had settled on the dark bottom of the ocean. It had become terrifying simply because it had been left alone for so long, because its' masters had moved on to well mapped-out spots in newer buildings. To them, their memories were humdrum (as humdrum as life can be in a jail), of going to work each day in a place with functioning fluorescents and working drinking fountains. But to us its' uninformed explorers in the lightless shell, this place had never been civilized.

Still it was foreign yet familiar, filled with the aroma of years, like the flood of memories that comes with the smell of grandma's house. We didn't know the history, but we knew what it was like.

Our biggest catalyst of fear was our own imaginations. We huddled together as we descended the hallway. It felt as if any gap would let the ghosts come between us. No one really wanted to take the lead, but none of us wanted to bring up the rear. We made each other nervous with darting glances and double takes behind us. Our shouts of interest were indiscernible from our shouts of shock. Matt once yelled with a start when he came around a corner and saw the broken glass of a door window that to him looked like some demon from Hades locker room. Everywhere we went there were remnants of angst and immaturity. Past visitors would incomprehensibly smash windows and punch holes in walls. I didn't quite understand it the first time I saw it, but Will eventually summed it up nicely .

"Something about this place makes we want to smash things."

Spooky...as if the building possessed us, wanting us to tear it down from the inside, to put it out of its' misery.

Another item on my checklist of fears, perhaps the most real threat, was the idea that someone was living here. That at 1:30 in the morning we would be disturbing the slumber of some deranged "stabbing hobo". I wondered if even a homeless person would be crazy enough to live in here, then again most homeless people I was aware of WERE crazy. It was a "catch 22" that only reinforced my fear that we could be in actual danger.

This fear seemed to come to life for one breathtaking moment when Will looked down and said "Oh my Gosh, someone's sleeping right there" He pointed his flashlight to the ground to reveal a mass of blankets and pillows. Fortunately there was no one curled up inside them. I remembered that it had been there the last time I'd come here, but it was much less frightening in the day time. It was probably left behind by some couple who came here to "neck" as my mom would call it.

I remembered a thought that had often crossed my mind when I saw pillows in empty buildings or in the forest surrounded by beer cans and the like. Who would want to come to a place like this to spend time with someone they liked? Wouldn't that relationship be tainted by fear? Maybe that was the point. Perhaps they couldn't afford to rent horror movies so they went into dark places to get high off the adrenaline of the spookiness. I myself find this far too unsavory and simply enjoy cuddling a girl in the 2D fear that is reproduced on living room televisions. Much cozier.

We took the requisite pictures to relieve the tension, and posited the numerous scenarios that could take place in the supernatural thriller we were creating/living.

"What if we walked by this room and someone was sitting quietly in that chair with their back to us?"

Then Matt did it, and we made a short movie of it with Will's camera. As on the outside, the rooms of the jail seemed to be a weird meeting place for found objects. There was a missing person poster on the wall, a book on the floor called "Know Your Rights" and an obituary for a young man who died last year. It was eerie.

Scariest of all however was when we shined our flashlights into the doorway of one room and there sitting on the ground was a granite gravestone. We all stood in shock not sure of what to make of it, until I realized that perhaps it was a prop from "Forever Strong". After a moment of tension Will, who had a supporting role in the film laughed and said, "Oh yeah, that is in the movie." Still we wondered why someone would leave it behind posed in a way seemingly calculated to scare visitors to the jail.

We found the visiting room area, a room with small windows to the law abiding citizens on the other side. It was depressing, and we thought how hard and how unsanitary it would be to do one of those romantic kiss through the window scenes that happen in so many movies (at least the Great Muppet Caper).

The most startling point of the evening however came when we entered the cell block area. We entered through an imposing duo of bars and into a larger room with tables, and three sets of cells to our left. Each of them had two bunks on each side, and very little room. We were all enamored by this place, and we decided that we should take some pictures in the cells. Before we had entered the block we found a panel on the wall with a large crank on it. We turned it and heard a booming mechanical noise within the walls of the jail. Apparently this opened and closed the cells, but we didn't see any of the cells in the particular block open or close. We thought it must be on the fritz.

I was nervous about the bars to the outside of the cell block somehow closing on us, (as if this were possible right? so Adam stay outside the room. Meanwhile inside the block Matt went into one of the cells first, so Will could take a picture. As he did we discussed how the bars locked. We figured that since we didn't see a latch on the cell doors that they must be magnetic, and since there was no electricity in the building they wouldn't lock, but this was hasty and absolutely ridiculous logic.

Without Matt and I figuring it out, he closed the bars to the cell from the inside. It snapped shut with a resounding thud. He then pulled on the bars but they wouldn't move. Matt and I looked into each others eyes and an absolute wave of panic came over both of us.

Matt freaked out because he envisioned being stuck in there all night until we could find help. I freaked because we had just locked my best friend in a jail cell that we were probably not supposed to be in at 1 am, and who on Earth were we going to call for help? How would I explain this?

Profanity was unfortunately exchanged and tense breathing ensued. A vision of Matt stuck in a cell all night while the rest of us went for help quickly filled my mind.

In this moment of drama I added the fourth most striking addition to my checklist of why this place was frightening. The loneliness for one. I thought of being here on my own, exploring it out for fun, going into a cell for some unknown reason and accidentally closing the doors, being suddenly trapped, screaming for help for days on end. This is my new least favorite nightmare, proven by the fact that I dreamt it last night as I slept.

After what was only about 30 seconds but what seemed like at least 45, we figured out the crank system, and the doors opened, but it was one of the more nerve wracking experiences I've had in a long time. I can't imagine what it was like for Matt.
As we finished up our exploration and stumbled into the fresh air of the winter night, I was vastly relieved, and I proclaimed out loud "We made it!". Somehow a simple trip through a building had seemed like a major accomplishment. It was exciting and I took from it several important lessons that seemed worth learning.

In the end however I looked up one last time at the elementary school, thinking what horrible day dreams this place might inspire in a young kids mind, and how they would nonetheless be drawn to look inside, to examine it's mystery and to venture into the unknown. It reminded me of how exciting and unpredictable it can be to be young, but also how scary it is.

I thought to myself for the first time in a long while, "what a relief it is to be old".

Art!

So I'm starting to do art again. The other night I just randomly sat down and started an illustration based on a picture of my friend Trevor Hill from back in the day. I thought it would be fun to post it. Let me know what you think!

Fice' - The Musical

This was our 24 hour film festival entry this year. Our team was:
Garrett Batty, Jake Van Wagoner, Matt Mattson, Matt Gerow, and Will Rubio (plus me).
The theme was Sacrifice believe it or not, and we had to use the words "Let me be your..." and the object was a match. Enjoy.



We won an audience choice award, and Third place in the judges competition, which ain't bad for a film with no real nutritional value.

This Year...

1. I will use every resource at my disposal to help others accomplish their dreams, which will in turn inspire me.

2. I will learn from my mistakes, and understand why they were made.

3. I will put together my photo albums.

4. I will try and always be the bigger man inter-personally while continuing to try and be the smaller man physically.

5. I will go to a movie like Twilight by myself, and will outwardly and proudly let people know that I liked it.

6. I will walk everyday.

7. I will never want for the daily essentials.

8. I will finish Return.

9. I will follow my mom’s example and look people in the eyes when they are talking to me, no matter who it is.

10. I will listen without looking for opportunities to talk.

11. I will appreciate the power of accomplishment in any form, and look less towards criticism.

12. I will look for fewer shortcuts in daily life.

13. I will look for more shortcuts on my computer.

14. I will spend less time on my computer.

15. I will not let my bank account go below $500

16. I will establish an open line of communication, and have a relationship with my roommates.

17. I will be a thoughtful roommate and buy the toilet paper.

18. I will find ways to help out at church even if I don’t get a calling.

19. I will finish Moonlight Starlight.

20. I will appear in something that requires me to act.

21. I will rely more on preparation and less on improv at my auditions.

22. I will save my spare change and deposit it into my savings.

23. I will write more.

24. I won’t be fritened of first drafts.

25. I won’t be frightened of mistakes.

26. I will rely less on improv in important situations.

27. I will rely more on improv in unimportant situations.

28. My improv will learn patience.

29. I will enter and travel to at least two improv festivals.

30. I will be a little more of a shameless self-promoter without becoming an obnoxious one.

31. I will compliment sincerely, without hope of remuneration.

32. I will finish Shadows.

33. I will be honest, but not blunt.

34. I will “Yes, and”.

35. I will delegate more.

36. I will focus more on the plan that I’ve established, without to many divergences.

37. I will use the words “to” and “too” correctly, knowing there importance.

38. Being an adult now, I will be less afraid of them.

39. I will pay people for a job well done.

40. I will be more artistic.

41. I will pay off ALL debt (except maybe my new car).

42. I will let more opportunities for sly comments pass by unsullied by my biting tongue.

43. I will embrace more fully the idea that the funniest comedy is aimed at oneself, but it won’t be too cocky or too pathetic.

44. I will realize the power of the axiom that the secret to attraction is talent, intelligence, and confidence.

45. I will try to leave people and things better than I found them.

46. I will date more.

47. I will realize that we all gots’ our baggage, and everyone’s a bit crazies!

48. I will judge fewer books by their covers, and realize that they all contain surprises.

49. I will read more.

50. I will learn patience while driving, embracing the power of cleansing breaths.

51. I will learn how to write things down again, and remember that a thought not written down is not a thought at all.

52. I will acquire a writing agent.

53. I will finish a song…for once.

54. I will memorize the phone numbers of those who are close to me.

55. I will finally memorize their birthdays.

56. I will polish and sell Scrappers.

57. I will finish creative endeavors and post them for people to see, without being afraid.

58. I will learn to crave criticism.

59. I will choose sacrifice over convenience.

61. I will be patient with love, and with myself.

62. I will be the man who gets things done.

63. I will floss.

Snowflake Commercials

Some fun I had with Cosmic and the Utah Office of Tourism this summer. Check out Matt Mattson and Jake Suazo's versions over on Matt's Blog.
Also check out more film news below.

I'm made of storms

There is a relaxing security in working too much.

No worries about cleaning your room, because there simply is no time. I can't think about the girl in my life, for obvious reasons, but also because I have to keep working. For three weeks straight I've woken up at 7:30, which, no joke, is a big deal for me.

I've committed myself firmly to the ideal that I am a man who gets things done.

Today was emblematic of my new lifestyle. 4 days ago I found out that there was a scary movie festival at BYU called "It's Only A Movie".

I've often struggled with the idea that my brain works in different ways. It constantly contradicts itself. I've constantly fought with the duality, that I sometimes love an inspirational story, and then now and then I just love a good down and dirty thriller, or ghost story. I don't reveal it to many people except those I know are the same way, because it seems like a weakness. Why do I enjoy the works of Edgar Allen Poe, Bradbury or even an occasional Stephen King? Why is Halloween my favorite holiday? I mostly chalk it up to trauma in childhood, and a delightfully dark oak tree covered neighborhood. I grew up in experience pretty quickly, not by choice, but by the true stories that gushed into my youth.

Anyway, I heard about the festival, and on the drive home I came up with a story. It wasn't anything groundbreaking, but it wasn't half bad either. So I went to my 285 class, where I've been acting, as a corporate werewolf, spending time being drenched in mud, freezing water and corn syrup, and I talked to my friend Byron who shot my Utah Film Commission commercials and asked him kind of offhandedly if he'd like to shoot my scary short. His desire to see if he can light any story got the better of him, and he agreed to shoot it on the HVX (a great little camera).

Now a word about Byron. He's easy going, he's smart, he's creative and he laughs at my jokes. He's basically the best girlfriend I've ever had (which makes perfect sense, since I've vowed to swear off the fairer sex, and join into a union with my work. It's legal in 50 states). Even though he's married he has unlimited access to the FSSS, the place where all film students at BYU rent their equipment. In my defense, I didn't know this when I asked him to shoot my UFC commercials, so I wasn't trying to take advantage of him...then at least.

Anyway, to cut this story down, I've spent the last three showerless days filming after work from 5 to midnight. We had a pleasant little shoot at my house on Tuesday and last night we filmed at Rock Canyon Park. After that and the night shoot I did on my UFC Campaign, I've vowed never to shoot outside again, unless it's in Cali in the summertime, or I have gobs of money to do it. It's houses that I live in from here for the next 2 to 3 years(or November 21st and 22nd when I direct a short Cherie wrote even later in the winter. Yech!)

So today after a surprising 8 hour night sleep, I spent all day editing my short. Originally it was called "Mutual Attraction" but a friend pointed out that it sounds like a spoof of a movie with Glenn Close, so I changed it to "The Feeling is Mutual" which I think is much more intriguing.

The film festival started at 8:30 and being the crippling perfectionist that I am, I spent every minute I had and then some up to that point to finish it. I'm tired.

I pulled into the Wilkinson Center parking lot at 9 on the dot, and as I ran, hard drive precariously in hand, the bell tower struck it's blows. It was so cinematic. Then I walked/ran into the venue of what I thought would be a cheesy little film festival (and so lamely thought while editing that my film would be a step up from every other entry) and saw a visual masterpiece on the screen. My jaw dropped, and I suddenly felt extremely inadequate. I sat down and the walls closed in on me as I watched 3 or 4 films in a row that were amazing. My only thought was "I don't belong here". I have neither gained entry to this school, nor proven my valor in the field of cinematical conflict. Luckily the quality stuff tapered off, and eventually gave way to slightly less polished visual fare. When my film was ready to show last, Joseph Winter the MC called me up in front of everyone and explained how I had just finished editing the film while the festival was taking place, and thus decimated all chances of maintaining anonymity if it bombed. If it sucked, a good portion of BYU Film students (ie future coworkers) would know exactly who I was. On top of that, as previously mentioned I hadn't bathed recently, and was wearing my hearty UGG slippers. What a tool.
When the film began to roll, or spin as the case may be, I held my breath as I realized I hadn't once watched it all the way through. Who does that? It could have glaring continuity and sound errors, and I would be none the wiser. I coughed some remarks to a nearby film student, filled with excuses, and then just decided to shut up and exhale.

When the film was done, and the audience applauded, not on a massive scale, but a respectable amount, I was surprised. I had accomplished my task in a fairly fluid manner. It mostly made sense, and the sound was pretty darn good. I received quite a few compliments of genuine origin, and I actually wanted to stick around and hob knob. Then I realized I was 29 and left.

I feel pretty good. Between this, my UFC (war) campaign (I drop them off at the editor's tomorrow), and "Not So Free Hugs" I've gotten quite a bit done. Not to mention the upcoming filming of the short "Dark Ages"(not the same as my alien movie), "About Face"(My short for Cherie) and another UFC commercial I'm filming next week, the month of November will see at least 6 projects completed. In addition it looks like I'm going to be producing, writing and acting in a feature this summer, and most definitely finishing 'Scrappers' within the next month so there's that to look forward to also.

Too bad that all of these November projects are costing me money instead of making any. Now the plan is to sell the heck out of myself until someone wants to pay me to write, produce and direct their commercials. I'm SO up for it. Please call! 801.358.6623. I'll direct anything for cash. What a creative floosey!

Anyone? Aspens? Anyone?

Hey there friends. Been making call after call to friends and random people to get these commercials produced and I feel like taking a break, so this is a break in the form of work.

Anyone know anyone who owns a house or a cabin or some land on which there are Aspen trees? It's a snobby aesthetic choice for a location but it would absolutely make all of my dreams come true. I'm putting my heart and soul into this recent project because I want numerous doors to be opened, so if you can think of ANYONE! please let me know via phone, email, or comment! I LOVE YOU in advance.

Return from LA...Large Update

Screenplay Writing Day 1 of Day 3

"Gone Writin' " - 1 of 3 New Posts

Hey everybody. I'm off to LA in 5 hours to spend the week finishing my screenplay, 'Scrappers', that I've spent 4 months working on... and by working I mean stuttering. I have a complete outline, and a great story, but I have yet to actually finish a draft. I'm about 30 pages in, and hopefully by weeks end...scratch that...by weeks end I WILL have a draft completed.

My screenplay is a children's adventure story that takes place in 1960, in a mining town in California (not unlike the mining town of New Almaden a mile from my house where I spent a lot of time growing up). It's about 4 kids who hang out in a junkyard, get into mischief, start hoaxes, and stop World War III. Of course it's in the vein of some of the classic films from my youth, Goonies, Sandlot, Stand By Me etc., but it still feels like a great story to tell. I'd be lying of course if I said that I wasn't trying to write a story in a marketable genre. I'm trying this new thing where I write a screenplay that I think people will buy, and/or want to see instead of the dreck I've written in the past. The tradeoff is I'm writing about something I love and am excited about, (history, mischief, adventure, humor) so it's all good.

Feel free to cheer me on this week as I write. I could use your support and look for a daily Vlog update that will keep me on track.

The next update will come from the roof of my brother's LA penthouse. I hope Cali's warm this week. Couldn't be worse than Utah! Yay!

Snow-Blake

Check out those legs!

I just acted in two commercials for the Utah Division of Tourism. I played a snowflake who is lucky enough to land in Utah. It was a major blast to shoot them, as I got to do two of my favorite things, dress up like a goof-ball and hang out with improv friends for two days. Friends include: Matt Mattson, Gavin Bentley and Jake Suazo as well as some cool new buddies I met on the shoot. Here are some great pics that we took on set today!

Me and Matt as the most in your face flakes of all time!

Gavin, Danor, and Jeff in flake form!

Journey Through the Dark Night

I woke at 9:15,in the p.m., and my room being the degree of H-E-Double that it is in the summertime, I slipped into a bath of sub-arctic temperatures, and promptly fell asleep. I awoke, and discovering that despite my lack of feeling I did indeed still have legs.

I dressed, and tried to determine what to do with the rest of my night.

I checked my email and in the corner I saw a banner ad for The Dark Knight (darn the charming level of shiny objects on the internet, that play perfectly into my impulsiveness). Instantly I had to see it. I knew my task.

My friends tend to dissipate when I work three 16 hour days in a row, and so flying solo to a movie, an activity I too often find myself doing, was my only option for entertainment for a Friday night...besides returning to bed (It was a long day).

I checked movie times, and found that the lamest theater in town still had tickets. I'm only one person. They have to have one lonely seat.

I became a geek possessed. Keys were already in hand. Shoes were on, and I was moving quickly through a black house. Because my feet worked faster than my mind, I remembered a nanosecond too late the large easy chair I had moved that very night precariously placed at knee level, between myself and the door.

In my frenzy to exit, my tumble was absolute. Landing on my face, I honestly took a quick breath, stood, and was out the door before I could utter an "ow". My senses came back briefly to visit. I turned back to the door for but a moment in remorse, thinking that perhaps my roommates upon returning home would suffer a similar fate. Maybe I should move that chair. My swift and dismissive justification?

"It'll be funny if they also fall, and we'll all have a good laugh in the morn' at our shared blunders".

Evil Jeff...Evil!

As I drove, that old awful feeling of dread returned to me.

Now, I don't particularly care for the word "hate". It's almost always hyperbole to use it...however...is there a word that almost butts up to "hate" yet doesn't go too far over the line?

"Despise-ification?"

I know that's not in the dictionary, but let's just say it would be difficult to measure my level of "despise-ification" for driving in Utah. My "despise-ification" is exquisite. Forget just Utah. I believe that driving anywhere is exquisitely despisable. I have now decided that my only levels of tolerance are for instant teleportation or long meaningful walks to unimportant destinations (like duck ponds on contemplative evenings). Anything in between is ridiculously stressful.

University Avenue is a particularly hateful stretch of Provo, and the moniker given to "the fast lane" is hilariously ironic. Picture a group of small children wearing water wings floating without purpose or propulsion in one of the lanes of the deep end of an olympic-sized swimming pool.

On this night, I was even more distraught finding it impossible to believe that driving of this nature exists when all I want is to see Heath Ledger act like a method actor.

35 in a 50? Honestly?! Cell phones, radios and yes even laptops(!), should be banned in those people's autos that fail to meet a "driving with distractions" competency exam. Oh that such a test existed.

You there! The one surfing the internet while driving...Please pull off to the side of the road, and read your Mac Book Pro, like the rest of us do... in the tub. This is a sight that could only exist on this night.

My radio plays the generic noise that I can't seem to drive without anymore, despite the fact that the radio hasn't been "awesome" since Guglielmo Marconi. (Blips and beeps, and stuff like that. So Sigur Ros!)

Also, I ridiculously find myself pondering why there's so much "bleeding" in records these days? Everyone's "bleeding" in their song lyrics. Get a band-aid, and stop whining! Don't believe me? http://search.lyrics.astraweb.com/?word=bleeding


Now I'm behind the diesel truck that makes me feel like Al Gore's love child. I picture puppies and flowers coughing, as the rich plume of black smoke pours into my glass face, giving me reminiscence of Nintendo's classic title "Spy Hunter". Decrease your carbon footprint! It just makes "popular" sense. Even Capcom realizes you only use toxic emissions to smite your 8-bit enemies.

The moon is peering over the mountains at me, like some evil big brother. He seems to be the mastermind behind the stone curtain, plotting to make my night completely "Bale-less". On the radio, I have no choice but to marvel at how Kelly Clarkson really seems to just "get" my experience in relationships.

I am flabbergasted. In all honesty at this point in my journey I've come to believe that I'm part of a late Friday night funeral procession. Why? Why are we going 10 in a 75? Is that even possible? Is there a Bichon Frise running in front of your car? I love dogs lady, but please...BATMAN!

At this crawl I now also have enough time in the car to contemplate the hilariousness of robotic assisted surgery. I'd tried out for a voice-over spot the day before, that advertised just such a service.

All I can picture is the robot being a "smart aleck", and when the doctor asks for a scalpel the robot mischievously hands him a pair of forceps. The doctor flabbergasted turns to the robot (who of course looks like Johnny 5 and has a cute name like M.E.L.Vi.N. or something) and it is producing a small computer generated snicker. It's android eyes squinting in delight, even though we all know perfectly well that surgery robot assistant's don't need eyes but for the sole purpose of making them look adorable.

Geesh see what you've done to me road? I've taken shelter in a ludicrous fantasy world where robots pull medical pranks on their masters. The machines truly have won.

On the car audio maker, I discover that I don't care for Death Cab for Cutie's new single.

Finally, I've arrived, having broken the barrier of late night driving foolishness, and found a surprisingly convenient parking spot.

Of course at this point I realize there is no hope in this endeavor.

This is "Dulls-burg" on a Friday night. This is the biggest movie of the summer.

I arrive at the ticket office, and a very small young lady tells me that there are no more tickets.

"Not even one?" I say, in a far more pitiful and outloud-ish tone, then this moment deserves.

On the long walk back to my movable torment, I see a pair of nerds walking peacefully hand in hand. They have a blissful smile on their smooshed faces, and the dream girl of this acne faced man-boys existence wears a classic batman T-shirt. She is the perfect woman at this moment in time. They pause and without guile look longingly into each of their four eyes. Their pleasantness mocks my pain, and pointlessness. They continue on their way, and as I turn to follow them with my eyes for but a moment, I think to myself...

"Dang, I've got to move that chair! My knee and face really hurt."

What the Heck Do Dreams Mean?

I'm not sure I understand what dreams are all about. Are they a manifestation of your self-conscious? If so, my self-conscious is full of contradictions. Por ejemplo, according to last night's dream, apparently I want to live in New York City, so I can ride horses.

New Post...

Coming Soon...What a tease!

5/17: Transcript From a Horrible Fast Food Restaurant

Jeff pulls up to the drive thru

"Yes, can I get a number 9 with no lettuce or Tomato with cheese?

"Okay, well the number 9 doesn't have tomato on it anyway"

"Oh...really?"

"Yeah, it doesn't"

Jeff looks at the picture of the number 9 on the menu with 2 giant tomatoes on it.

"Oh. Okay. Can I get that without tomato then?"

"Okay, so you want a number 9 with no lettuce?"

"Yes... or tomato. And I want cheese on that?"

"Okay, extra cheese?"

"No just regular cheese"

"Okay, well it already has cheese on it."

Jeff looks at the picture of the number 9 on the menu without cheese on it.

"Alright, then I want that."

Jeff orders a drink, and pulls ahead, and pays for his meal, gets it and leaves. Jeff checks his gage, and drives down to the gas station while eating his fries.

Jeff pulls into the gas station and goes in to pay. Upon his return he starts pumping his gas, and goes to open his sandwich.

The sandwich is covered in lettuce, and there is no cheese on it,(or mayonnaise for that matter). There is however not a tomato on it.

Jeff decides he wants what he ordered and returns to the restaurant. He arrives in the parking lot, finding the one out of five parking spaces that are not handicapped, and goes inside.

"Hey, I just came through the drive-thru and ordered this sandwich without lettuce, and I wanted cheese on it."

The drive-thru attendant seeing that Jeff has returned goes over to the menu to stare at the picture of the number 9. He walks away sheepishly. Jeff refuses to make eye contact with him.

"Hey guys. He wants this sandwich without lettuce, and cheese"

"It doesn't come with cheese"

"No he wants it with cheese"

"Oh okay."

The sandwich sits there for two minutes.

"Hey what's the deal with this one?"

"Oh, he wants that without lettuce and with cheese."

"Okay"

The sandwich sits there.

"Okay so what did he want on this?"

"He wanted no lettuce and cheese"

"Okay"

He finally grabs the sandwich. He hands it to another food preparer.

"What's wrong with it."

"He wants no lettuce and cheese"

"Okay, No lettuce or cheese."

"No, he wants cheese"

"Okay"

The previous preparer hands it to another food preparer.

"No lettuce, add cheese"

"Okay".

A minute goes by.

"What was this one again?"

"No lettuce, add cheese."

"Okay..."

He starts to work. He says the next phrase quite audibly.

"What kind of person wants no lettuce and cheese on their sandwich?"

Jeff stares at the worker somewhat befuddled. The worker finishes the sandwich with the previous chicken patty instead of making a new one or reheating the old one.

"Okay. No lettuce. Add cheese."

He hands it to the cashier who hands it to Jeff.

"Okay. No lettuce with cheese."

Jeff says "Thanks."

Jeff exits.

He goes to his car, and opens the sandwich.

There are tomatoes on it...And no mayonnaise.

Jeff opens the window to his car and throws the two giant tomatoes in the parking lot. He drives away and eats his very cold sandwich.

My Reel - More Videos...yeah I know.

Yeahhh!!! (in German)

So for some awful reason I woke up with this song in my head.
Then it made me think of my Lahsa Opsa, Wicket and how I wish he could fly...and speak German.

Jeff is simply trying to not go crazy by doing one thing at a time.

More fun with videos!

I've enjoyed blogging videos in the absence of actual blogs lately. So in case some of you haven't seen them, these were two commercials I was in about a year or so ago for BYU Independent Study.