Thank you, Google Sites, for making my megalomaniacal dreams come true.
One episode of The Wire to go. Very mixed emotions about Season 5.
I know this is a dialouge scene I’m writting, but DAMN it’s talky.
If you ever want to put me in a extreme glitch state look me dead in the eye and ask “Fiona or Drew?” with all seriousness.
Dear Nation’s Berkeley: I draw the line at the Musak version of “Every Breath You Take”.
Up and at ‘em!
Time to get back in the saddle.
Day & Age is proving a worthy follow up to Hot Fuss. Let’s just forget about Sam’s Town.
Christmas always turns into iTunes management day for me.
Slumdog: just as good the second time around.
Last night: Vicky Christina Barcelona. Today: Timecrimes and an encore of Slumdog Millionaire.
I’m pretty much in love with Rudy’s Can’t Fail Cafe this month.
Super Movie Week begins NOW!
Time to fire up the Awesomobile and burn some ethereal rubber.
Actually I’m glad everyone bailed on me tomorrow. Seriously. No sarcasm. What? Is sincerity dead even during the holidays?
Whisky + Caffine + Writing = Superior Saturday Night.
It’s not the writing that’s hard so much as the acceptance that there will be rewriting. That’s the real bitch.
To the lady in the back of Au Coq: I doubt your friends are THAT funny.
Tap dancing IN the busy cafe? Really? Really you self-important hipster fu-
Every time we doubted Obama during the election we were all wrong. What makes us so much wiser now?
It may, in fact, be too cold to think here in San Pablo.
My kingdom for some earbuds. I think the neighborhood digs have been called by that 3 Penny Number.
I need needles for my ears or eyes right now. Not sure which. Perhaps both. At a friend’s recital. This is not about her. She’s not on.
Too cold for naked screenwriting today. Must find pants.
Twitterbot followers are hilarious. I wonder what will notice if I write “Sexy Fun Blonde Actionpants”?
It’s somewhat comforting to still be able to pass for a grad student.
The Mac is acting funny, I think its time for anti-virus software. Never thought I’d see the day. Success, it can blow.
This morning I realized my twitter name is a question I’ve asked myself.
Remember, its always our duty to question authority in defense of the least powerful.
Light my way, O Muse.
Trying to hear the dialogue in my head but all I get are washing machines and other people’s cell phones.
Never thought I’d type this: thanks Panda Express for saving my Sunday night.
Still Desperately Seeking Solitude.
Preperation is everything.
Broke routine today to find inspiration and solace. Found annoying suburbanites instead. Sub-urban feels like sub-human.
How the fuck did I manage to wake up with “Single Ladies” in my head? SRSLY.
Nothing says “I don’t get teh intertubes” like clicking “Yes” on the Evite and leaving a “Sorry I can’t make it” comment.
Stimulous required. Wonder if I can apply for a Muse Bailout.
The more I learn about Orson Welles the more I love the man.
I will beat my self diagnosed ADD tonight. I swe- oh look, shiny things.
I’m a good boy this morning. Got my backlog typing done first thing!
I know this scene is gonna wind up split in two… too dialog heavy.