July 2011
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I am in the midst
of some job interviews right now, for two different employers, and despite the fact that my chances are pretty good, and I feel confident with my answers to questions about branching dialogue, Commander Shepherd, and the Adobe suite, I feel like the profound spirit of previously unemployed Neil is hovering about my proceedings, hooting and cajoling and threatening to become corporeal and replace...
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I had an idea
for a coffee table book, called The Jowls of Orson Welles which tracks the progression of Orson Welles transition from well-defined, if husky auteur, to a totally deranged-looking Hollywood reject. Also included will be a timeline of his affinity for capes, which I can only assume increased accordingly with his bulk. Waiting for publisher’s emails…NOW.
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I've been thinking about
how I should probably try and be a less cynical person, but then I have the following thought process:
1. Hey, my life might be better if I were less cynical.
2. Hey, I bet a great number of people wish that they were also less cynical.
3. Hey, a great number of people are total fucking idiots.
PROCESS COMPLETE, CYNICISM RE-ACHIEVED.
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I love you,
bag of donuts next to my bed.
I'm going to spend my afternoon
sneaking the Mastodon discography into the playlist for my parent’s barbecue. It’s gonna be Colony of the Birchmen all over their pork tenderloin.
