"Let's wait for a few months as we find a house for our project" snowballed into almost a year. Yeah, sure, we still talk about it when we run into each other, but let's face it, little by little Her Crooked House faded into that uncomfortable mental space where abandoned plans go to expire. Previous conversations about objectives and goals crumpled into sentences with an unsavory past tense: "Hey Max, what happened to that house-project we were gonna do? Remember that?"
Well, I'm here to say: Yes, I remember and I hope you do too. "Why the sudden re-awakening, Max?" you might ask. "Did you just find out you have cancer a la Walter White?"
Not really. (Although I've been listening to Tig Nataro's "Cancer Set" on loop lately, probably to remind me that being on the low end of the Hollywood Totem Pole is not THAT bad.)
It's because I'm itching for a creative pursuit, friends. And I know you do too: If I had a nickel for every time I heard you folks complaining about how your job sucks and how the modern 9-to-5, day-in-day-out is "deathly monotonous" (a phrase one of you actually used), I would've made enough quarters for a couple of laundry runs. And, look, I'm in that boat too: Being an assistant in Hollywood roughly translates to being a baby-sitter to your bosses. A baby-sitter they can freely abuse without anyone else batting an eye, because that's how the ecosystem of this place works. I've washed their cars, I've picked up their dog's poops (My boss at the time insisted this was within my duties because he was "scientifically allergic to shit". I wish I was kidding.) and I even did online traffic schools on their behalf, which, I'm pretty sure, is not legal. Oh, and, if you're reading this and you just recognized yourself as one of the people I worked for... Wait, that's not possible. That would require the higher-ups in this town to recognize their minions as human beings capable of intelligence and reflection and search for their blogs to see what they are thinking about. What a preposterous premise!
But enough about me, dear friends. The message you should take away from this blog post is: Let's jump-start this shit! We will be outdoors, we won't have people telling us what to do, we will execute our respective arts for the sheer joy of it. Imagine how long it's been since you did that? Did something just because you wanted to.
As far as additional incentives go: Girls, imagine how hot the Men will look as they work on the house and be all artistic and shit. We'll be like bad-ass versions of Bon Iver! And, men, to you I say this: There's gonna be women and alcohol.
Seriously though: Let's roll our sleeves. Let's set goals. Let's meet and talk about this. Let's make something.
Who's with me?