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Another Post about Hollywood Crap

Sorry, sorry for the spelling/typographical errors thus far. I am making a concerted effort to make this blog as readable as possible and obviously impeccable spelling and grammar aren’t my forte. But I’m trying.

Okay, so my fallout with Modern Frome has prompted me to really consider the kinds of people I want in my life. Creative business attracts all sots of wackos, no doubt about it. I enjoy people who create great things out of tenacity and trueness of heart. I loathe people who are primarily motivated by glory and fortune. Their deficiencies of character are always quite transparent. And illogical… you want money, go be an investment banker or whatevs.

I know that Los Angeles is a pivotal intersection of art and commerce. I worked precisely in this combustible junction for many years. Crap gets made, money gets made. Don’t sweat it. Art gets made, celebs get bumped from studio lists. C’est la vie. I sat in on a panel last year in Park City where an independent filmmaker threw a fit and stormed out of the room when a distributor outlined very specifically how much each gratuitous element – breasts, gore – translates into sales. Y’all need to get a firmer grip on reality. All power to your well-done art film, but the expectation that it’s going to be more attractive in the marketplace than a crappily-made slasher is just not realistic.

I am making that art film. I realize that there ultimately may be more marketable films out there. I believe mine will overcome this. But that’s just a minute speck in my gray matter. The important thing is that my interest lies in telling a great story, not making money glory. This is why my project has thus far been so fun and naturally easy to make. If you’re into creating art for any reason other than a dedicated calling, you’re in for some really rough lessons. See, I am happy with movies. I don’t blame them for my financial destitution.

I am irritated, however, at all these snobby fools I occasionally encounter who brush off anyone not in a sculpted up-do, trendy dishevelment, drinking a mojito. Says Kapalm, “I can’t even find a Bud Light in this town!” But say something like, oh yeah, I used to talk to Harvey Weinstein and Steven Spielberg all the time and watch the crowds form. And I’m not referring to bars, clubs or blah, blah, blah. I’m talking about creative art events. Not a big loss to ditch such people so I keep my mouth shut. But it SUCKS to have to wade through all these jerks to meet the true art-makers (who, when their hubris is in check, I have found to be enjoyable, open and fascinating.)

So I tend to be better able to engage, better enjoy, and feel all around more comfortable with “common” folk, people of science and wacky intelligencia. I can even deal with Ivy Leaguers because at least they’ve got something to back up their big heads or super weird personalities. I am not a brainiac by any stretch of the imagination but I am usually able to string together a coherent thought or two. Throughout the years I have had to sharpen my skills against the verifiable brainiacs in my own family.

This has translated into a desire to meet people different from those in my current path which, if you’ll bear with me, I’ll discuss tomorrow.


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