sometimes. you can hope for answers in the most wrong places.

usually. they’re inanimate.

often. you persist.

never. will it come to anything.

can’t shake off the notion that I was hit by one of those old egyptian curses.

getting my shit together to go to Korinthos for my last scene in this movie.

what fun it will be. n stuff.
I’m 100% 50-50.

i just met a girl who looked just like Belladonna, she was so sweet n stuff.

about to jump into a cold swimming pool with my clothes on, for a photo, for a mag.
then I’ll buy two suits.
then I’ll cut XXXXX’s hair.
then I’ll send a Blythe that I restored, home to her owner.
then.

in othah news, Valse Sentimentale did so well in the box office, it got anothah week playing at the Trianon theater. The yay!

the day after Valse Sentimentale came out,
I get offered a script for a similar film, identical role,
matching plot, also to be shot in Exarchia.
noway am I spending another summer shooting in this filthy dump.

it’s been a long time since it rained and I didn’t find solace in it.
in fact, never before.
if i lose the rain,
I’ll lose a lot more than that.

i’m rather retarded. n stuff.
off to the film’s premiere. lots of friends are-a-coming.
hope i dont get lynched.

my first day of shooting,
ate about 25 mussels during a scene, no side effects though.
and nearly broke my hand banging it on the table, the pissed off mobster I was.
only one take of everything, one can only pray and hope.
when the day was done, I was drained and suicidal.
life is best when you’re faking it. then what.

in other news, i find it exceedingly difficult to figure out Captchas. I spend minutes trying to decipher the fuckers, each time. Alzheimer’s? Dyslexia? Retardation? Old age? a fine cocktail of all the aboves? isn’t life complicated enough?

 

HOLD UP BRUVAH!

If you live in Manhattan, my new feature film “Valse Sentimentale” is playing at the MOMA
on Monday March 31 at 6:15pm and at the Walter Reade Theater at Lincoln Center on Tuesday April 1st at 8:45pm.

details on the screenings:
MOMA+Lincoln Center

—> trail0r

i discovered that the snail I stepped on and left for dead survived, sans shell and is now crawling up my window drinking rain. What will it do? Will it grow a new shell?

there’s a party tonight. shall I go? so much work tomorrow and the day aftah.

what to do..

“Valse Sentimentale” is playing at the MOMA on Monday March 31 at 6:15pm
and at the Walter Reade Theater at Lincoln Center, on Tuesday April 1st at 8:45pm.

—-> details

spammers are poets.

There are parents and then, there are my parents. Mes Anges.

getting ready to go out
Friday night, pff
when.. Gaslight (1944) was announced on TCM
hey screw the outing
Cukor! Ingrid! 1944! the yay

will sauté mushrooms.
oooh what a gorgeous picture.

chores, errands, chores, chores, errands, chores, errands, errands errands, chores.
up as early as 8am, the day is still not long enough
what load can a retard handle
before throwing the towel in
ordering pizza and fries
procrastinating, after all tomorrow’s another day.

i’ve been listening to the 1983 Metropolitan Opera 100th anniversary gala staging
of “The Presentation of the Rose” from the “Der Rosenkavalier”
thank you Richards Bluesteins
very very addictive stuffs
i put my hand on my hip
when i dip
you dip
we dip
another hair and costume fitting tonight
i start shooting april 1st
is it st patrick’s day? how distasteful.
simultaneously working on 4 projects gives you the gasses
i can never disrespect anyone who can make things with their hands

drugged and groggy
and having suffered two injections
administered by my nervous hand
[with affected confidence]
Souppy seems to be recovering,
not coughing anymore.

she thanks all the good friends who wished her well
in her little bout with pneumonia.

ΛΟΛς “..he looks like Borat’s emo aunt..” hhhsshshaha

second visit to the vet was equally dramatic, it would be, never is not
25 minutes under the rude noon sun to find a taxi
[all their mothers suck cock in hell, did you know? true fact, that]
got there late, vet was grumpy
stuck the confounded thermometer up Souppy’s poopy
SHE SHAT RIGHT THERE ALL OVER HIS HAND
[Souppy-Doc: 1-0]
i apologized profusely
he wasn’t gracious about it
stuck another 3 injections in her, she balled.

her temp was just a tad lower than yesterday
gave me two injections that am to administer over the weekend
[OY VEY!!!!!!!]

prescribed syrup, rice water and tea.

we got home, Souppy took a bath,
ate treats
and is now a very Sad Souppy.

and I is a very sad Yatapapa.

the good doctah shoved a big thermometer up poor Souppy’s pooper
and announced that she had a temperature.
‘but isn’t it cancer, doctah?’ i whimpered.
‘not as i see it’ he yawned
‘but she coughs like a mad woman’ i insisteds
‘as one does, when one has a cold’ he offereds
‘SAVE MY BABY DOCTAAH’ I wanted to yelps
‘I see’ is what I mumbled insteads.

he stabbed her with 3 injections [she cried], prescribed pills and we have to see him again tomorrow.
I did ask him if she could have possibly swallowed a doll shoe or sommit
and she now coughs, trying to dislodge it from inside her. He didn’t think so.

when we got home, it was time for big rewards; Souppy was presented with fresh salmon and the tunas.
she of course inhaled everything and passed out in sleep. that’s my girl. *proud fathah*

Souppy is in your calendar, re-arranging your appointments.

Souppy, my 10 year old tabby cat is gravely ill. I don’t know how to deal with this. My crazy, fat baby might pass away. Pets do. Other people’s dearly beloved pets die so I guess, why not mine too?
I really don’t care about people like I do about animals, it’s suddenly very clear.

I feel like as if I’m about to get brutally beaten up//