I'm not going to waste your time with the same old nonsense about massage oils and scented candles and pelvic exercises. Instead, I will tell you precisely what to do with whatever God saw fit to give you. So, let's begin. Please, drop your pants and open your workbook to page 13.
- Rob Burnett and Jon Beckerman, "Second Chances"
"Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow (Yeah. I'm sickened by it, too)"
Yesterday I cut my hair, and for the first time in a year, I did so without listening to Elliot Smith's "Needle in the Hay."
I don't know what's happening to me either.
And yes. I have a bag of my hair. Yes. I've been saving it since October. Yes. There is a reason...
I might want to have a beard some day.
"Quick Clark Quip #1"
Yes, Ms. Simon, you're right, of course. But in all fairness, I think every song's about me.
"Actors... Feh."
I remember the exact moment I gave up on any vague dream I had of being an actor:
It was when Colleen Rutten, the mousy peer advisor in charge of the stage and screen freshman interest group -- a job that from all indications I've seen drives whoever has it out of their freaking mind -- told me that she just didn't believe it when I swear.
Can you fucking believe that shit?
Up until that point, I'd always thought that perhaps after I wowed the world with a special Pulitzer Prize winning run on The Amazing Spider-Man, I might write a couple of movies, and give myself a role. I'm not even talking "Woody Allen, I'm the star" here. I would have settled for "Kevin Smith, I have a few lines". But no. I quit.
I auditioned for stage readings yesterday. It was quite the experience, and has confirmed for me that I made the right choice. Theater's weird. You've got to get a group of people to all look at a story the same way, and come on... that sounds like tough work. I hate tough work. (English major, remember?)
Besides... I could have either been a mediocre actor in a sea of actors, or the world's pre-eminent stick-figure storyteller. Either way, there's no money in it.
And I don't think I'm stable enough to be an actor. I can't watch TV without losing myself in the characters. I doubt I could handle the personality shifts necessary for acting. If I wanted to pretend to be a different person every couple of weeks and perform for people, I've got my social life, right?
"And Yet... Clarky Goes Hollywood"
I'm probably not going to be here much longer. I'm probably heading out to LA in a week or two.
My new screenwriting partner, Will Honley and I have a fucking brilliant idea for a movie:
You know how Ben Affleck's marrying Jennifer Lopez? Well I'm convinced that Gwyneth Paltrow is going to break up the wedding... just like in a romantic comedy. So I said to myself, Master Storyteller (I always call myself that) you've got to make this into a movie!
So yeah. There you have it. Ben and Jen are going to get married, and Gwyn wrestles with her feelings with the situation to the delight of critics and audiences everywhere. We're talking cameo's from all of Hollywood's stars.
But Clark, I hear you pop culture junkies out there saying, Isn't GP dating the lead singer of Coldplay? Well yeah, but in the movie, he's the one who tells her she's got to follow her heart. And then, "In My Place" starts playing during the montage sequence when we see GP running to the wedding chapel.
Now that's great cinema.
My esteemed colleague Mr. Honley came up with a sweet subplot in which P. Diddy, upset about the whole situation, does a drive-by on Affleck's house, and Matt Damon gets caught in the crosshairs, and in a Hamlet-inspired turn of events, Matt's ghost... no wait, Damon's Demon goads Affleck to take revenge, assembling a posse of action stars to take on a group of gansta rappers in the breath-takingly brutal shootout that occurs during the wedding.
Can't you see it? Ben Affleck and Hollywood's best and brightest on one side. Sean Combs and the assembled might of both the East and the West side at his back. Eminem, Ice Cube, and Ice-T all stand between the actors and the rappers, unsure of which side their on. Bruce Willis goes down to two shots in the chest while Gwyneth shouts her declaration of love over the roar of gunfire. Affleck splatters Nelly's brains all over the stain glass windows then stops to make the most difficult decision of his life.
Way better than Armageddon.
Honley and I are going to write up the screenplay in a couple of weeks and submit it to Project: Greenlight. We're sure to win. So so long suckers. See you on your long descent to the middle. I'm going to Hollywood. Jeffries, if you play your cards right, I might see if we can set you up as a PA... or maybe a key grip.
"Quick Clark Quip #2"
I don't believe in signs, but I believe in signmakers.
Jerry Seinfeld's dad was a signmaker.
"The Saddest Thing Ever"
This morning, I was ten minutes late to class because I stayed to watch the end of an episode of Dawson's Creek that I'd seen before... while I taped it.
"Blah, Blah, Blog"
I do enjoy this. I didn't know how much I missed the ol' door of post-it notes. I never realized the self-importance of writing down every piddly little thought that pops into my head was so central to who I am as a flawed human being.
Awesome.
I think you've all had enough.
- Rob Burnett and Jon Beckerman, "Second Chances"
"Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow (Yeah. I'm sickened by it, too)"
Yesterday I cut my hair, and for the first time in a year, I did so without listening to Elliot Smith's "Needle in the Hay."
I don't know what's happening to me either.
And yes. I have a bag of my hair. Yes. I've been saving it since October. Yes. There is a reason...
I might want to have a beard some day.
"Quick Clark Quip #1"
Yes, Ms. Simon, you're right, of course. But in all fairness, I think every song's about me.
"Actors... Feh."
I remember the exact moment I gave up on any vague dream I had of being an actor:
It was when Colleen Rutten, the mousy peer advisor in charge of the stage and screen freshman interest group -- a job that from all indications I've seen drives whoever has it out of their freaking mind -- told me that she just didn't believe it when I swear.
Can you fucking believe that shit?
Up until that point, I'd always thought that perhaps after I wowed the world with a special Pulitzer Prize winning run on The Amazing Spider-Man, I might write a couple of movies, and give myself a role. I'm not even talking "Woody Allen, I'm the star" here. I would have settled for "Kevin Smith, I have a few lines". But no. I quit.
I auditioned for stage readings yesterday. It was quite the experience, and has confirmed for me that I made the right choice. Theater's weird. You've got to get a group of people to all look at a story the same way, and come on... that sounds like tough work. I hate tough work. (English major, remember?)
Besides... I could have either been a mediocre actor in a sea of actors, or the world's pre-eminent stick-figure storyteller. Either way, there's no money in it.
And I don't think I'm stable enough to be an actor. I can't watch TV without losing myself in the characters. I doubt I could handle the personality shifts necessary for acting. If I wanted to pretend to be a different person every couple of weeks and perform for people, I've got my social life, right?
"And Yet... Clarky Goes Hollywood"
I'm probably not going to be here much longer. I'm probably heading out to LA in a week or two.
My new screenwriting partner, Will Honley and I have a fucking brilliant idea for a movie:
You know how Ben Affleck's marrying Jennifer Lopez? Well I'm convinced that Gwyneth Paltrow is going to break up the wedding... just like in a romantic comedy. So I said to myself, Master Storyteller (I always call myself that) you've got to make this into a movie!
So yeah. There you have it. Ben and Jen are going to get married, and Gwyn wrestles with her feelings with the situation to the delight of critics and audiences everywhere. We're talking cameo's from all of Hollywood's stars.
But Clark, I hear you pop culture junkies out there saying, Isn't GP dating the lead singer of Coldplay? Well yeah, but in the movie, he's the one who tells her she's got to follow her heart. And then, "In My Place" starts playing during the montage sequence when we see GP running to the wedding chapel.
Now that's great cinema.
My esteemed colleague Mr. Honley came up with a sweet subplot in which P. Diddy, upset about the whole situation, does a drive-by on Affleck's house, and Matt Damon gets caught in the crosshairs, and in a Hamlet-inspired turn of events, Matt's ghost... no wait, Damon's Demon goads Affleck to take revenge, assembling a posse of action stars to take on a group of gansta rappers in the breath-takingly brutal shootout that occurs during the wedding.
Can't you see it? Ben Affleck and Hollywood's best and brightest on one side. Sean Combs and the assembled might of both the East and the West side at his back. Eminem, Ice Cube, and Ice-T all stand between the actors and the rappers, unsure of which side their on. Bruce Willis goes down to two shots in the chest while Gwyneth shouts her declaration of love over the roar of gunfire. Affleck splatters Nelly's brains all over the stain glass windows then stops to make the most difficult decision of his life.
Way better than Armageddon.
Honley and I are going to write up the screenplay in a couple of weeks and submit it to Project: Greenlight. We're sure to win. So so long suckers. See you on your long descent to the middle. I'm going to Hollywood. Jeffries, if you play your cards right, I might see if we can set you up as a PA... or maybe a key grip.
"Quick Clark Quip #2"
I don't believe in signs, but I believe in signmakers.
Jerry Seinfeld's dad was a signmaker.
"The Saddest Thing Ever"
This morning, I was ten minutes late to class because I stayed to watch the end of an episode of Dawson's Creek that I'd seen before... while I taped it.
"Blah, Blah, Blog"
I do enjoy this. I didn't know how much I missed the ol' door of post-it notes. I never realized the self-importance of writing down every piddly little thought that pops into my head was so central to who I am as a flawed human being.
Awesome.
I think you've all had enough.
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