Gore-Bore

ATTORNEY
Then it's safe to say blood is your life.

DEXTER
Safe to say.

Getting an Amazon package in the mail is great. A DVD-shaped package is better than great. And all that for free is The Greatest. Move over Cassius, my Dexter Season 1 is here.

The nice thing about crashing with your folks is that they pick up the tab. I can justify a DVD purchase by saying it's for studying purposes, so as to better write a spec script. And it is.

I'm now on an episode blitz. The best way to write a spec is to immerse myself in the show. Get the voices down, study character quirks, take note of the episode topics, the common themes, the story structure. It helps me get to know the show, but it also lets me figure out why I was drawn to the show in the first place.

The show is known for being dark, but that's hardly what appeals to me. Gore is boring.

I re-watched the first episode with my mother (bad idea) who hates gore. She actually covered her face during one gruesome murder scene. I really should've seen that coming. I didn't forget that this show about a serial killer features several murders, and I'm not some sadistic child who wants to torment his parents. I managed to plum overlook those aspects, 'cause they ain't what I focus on.

It's about his struggle. Who cares that he kills people? The cool part is just that he's different. He's not a monster; he's an ugly duckling. It's dark and twisted to argue that Dexter's urge to wrest life from his victims is what makes him a beautiful swan, but that's the show. That IS the show. And that's what I love about it.

Alright, maybe I am drawn to the darker parts. But gore is still boring.

Chute 'Em Up

The whole concept of writing spec scripts is pretty queer. It's a writing sample. But not a sample of your own voice so much as your ability to speak with someone else's. It's an exercise in mimicry.

And after you put your all into crafting thirty pages of a show, you really can't do anything with it. It'll never be sold, it will never be made. All you do is show it to people. It's the free sample at the grocery store. Here, try a taste of my 30 Rock. If you liked that, let me whip you up something new. Toothpicks and napkins go over there.

One thing I can do, however, is submit the script to competitions. Before I left New York, I submitted "Going Green" to the WB Writers Workshop. The resulting workshop seems to be a shmooze-fest for WB to find and groom future writers. I recently heard the program cut the number of winning sitcom writers from ten to three. Slim chances just got slimmer.

Yesterday I sent the script off to an internet contest. WriteMovies.com apparently likes to see people write television as well.

They cap each round off at 1000 applicants, with what appears to be around an eighth being television specs. 1 out of 125? I like my script and all, but it seems more like fifty bucks down the paypal poop chute. Pessimism aside, if I managed to place into a semi-final spot, or thereabouts, that'd be a nice resume line-item I think. Or at the very least, a fancy feather for my cap.

Next up: I start writing a Dexter.

Productions Don't Like Phone Sex

Try some music while you read:

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What's new in this world? For one, I got a paying gig. Nothing fancy, and nothing in L.A. Shock of shocks, I somehow scrounged up some work in Seattle for a couple days. Just some P.A. stuff working for Red Bull's Soap Box Seattle.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't $150/day the standard? I guess Seattle rates are different. And by different, I mean worse.

I wonder if the only reason I got the job was because of my area code. Over at John August's blog, some guy breaking his way into Hollywood said there's digit discrimination. Will my 206 be a dead weight down there?

I guess I can see it. A foreign area code suggests someone who's recently moved in, or, worse, hasn't moved yet. A local code conveys stability, security, someone who's there to cup your balls.

To someone staffing up a crew, 206 looks like a long distance relationship. 323 looks like a booty call.

Basically

If you haven't already heard, fellow Dave and reigning Dave Dynasty animator extraordinaire, Dave Pagano was on national television this week. ABC News' I-Caught hired him to do some Lego animation for a segment. Not only was his work featured on network air, but he was also featured in the interview. He's basically my hero. Basically.

There's Hope in the West

An article today argued that we have finally forgotten September 11th. Does that make today the 12th?


I read a passage the other day from a book about the founding fathers. It mentioned that men like Jefferson saw their revolutionary actions in much the same light as Manifest Destiny. Up until that point, scientific/artistic/cultural discovery as they knew it had a westward course, proceeding from Greece to Rome, on to Europe and finally the Americas. Obviously they ignored developments in the east they weren't aware of, but I still liked the core concept. Let it be shown that you'll find what you need in the West. Let it be shown that there's hope in the West.

I mention all this to preface the following... The West Seattle DMV is fuckin' rad. Short lines, courteous staff, clean seating area. I got in, out, and scheduled a drive test for the 22nd. Fuckin' fuck yeah.

Because Tailpipes are at the Rear

Driving lesson #2 went as smoothly as the first. Parallel parking was a breeze.

INSTRUCTOR
I hate to admit this, but I think you park better than I do.

Maybe it was me, or maybe it was the Mitsubishi Gallant. Either way, whether he was blowing smoke up my tailpipe or not, things are looking good for my license prospects.

My Treatise Against Grape Nuts

This post has nothing to do with the road to California, so I'll fudge this one in, saying I might work it into a script somehow (no), someway (nope), sometime (never happening).

Fuck Grape Nuts. Seriously. If there were ever a Judas that would turn on the rest of cereal-kind, it would be Grape Nuts. I cannot think of another "cereal" that is any more the antithesis of morning cereal as I have come to know it.

Let's look at what Grape Nuts are. They're miniature rocks of turd-tightening fiber. They're so small, it's like eating coarse sand. The crunch level is off the charts. The same milk that makes Crispix cry uncle would have to spend its entire afternoon trying to breakdown Grape Nuts. But it's all well enough being crunchy - many cereals want to be crunchy. The real reason I dislike Grape Nuts is 'cause they make me look stupid.

No other cereal is as deceiving as Grape Nuts. Any other brand, the routine stays mostly the same: pour into bowl until the top of the cereal is roughly 1.5 centimeters below the rim, add milk to fill, add fruit toppings or additional sugar to taste. Try pouring a full bowl of Grape Nuts. The dense rock sand practically stops the milk in its place. Pouring milk to fill results in vastly inferior milk-to-cereal ratios. You'll end up refilling your milk supply three times before you're jaw breaks off from all the cereal left. Even when one pours a more modest measurement of Grape Nuts, gauging proper milk levels is near impossible. Even if you do get close, you'll never have leftover milk. And leftover cereal milk is the sweet honey nectar of my morning. Hell, even if leftover Grape Nuts milk were possible, I don't know that I'd want to drink that rank infusion.

You can keep eating Grape Nuts if you need you're old, dying, or already dead inside - but I don't recommend it. Do yourself a favor. Kick the Nuts.