It's As If She Vanished -- Straight Through The Blog...

I decided earlier to play around with cutting some more moving footage of me on my trip to LA, which was maybe a bad decision. I could find ways to be witty and clever about how to say this, but I'm just going to be forward and say it plainly: I miss my little parrot _so_ _much_. Spending ten years with someone and then losing him in the span of 48 hours to some government agency you've never heard of or cared about is a tough way to lose friends, especially the ones you share your daily life with.

Sometimes, I still think about going back for him. I suppose it's more like 'wondering' about going back for him, because I don't have a viable plan that could ever be pulled off legally, and as tempting as it is to smuggle a pet parrot across the border, that's a huge step into outlaw territory over one very small animal. And with every day, or week, or month that passes between today and when I lost him, I get the impression that he's more and more moved on with whatever life he has in the shelter. Were I to return to Arizona to take him, I can imagine he may hardly recognize me, let alone be pleased to see me after what probably seems to him like abandonment. And the trials of keeping a pet safe and quiet, especially as a fugitive from the law, in a house full of other people, is no feat I'm prepared to undertake.

I caught myself last week mentioning Yoshi to someone, and it hurt when I noticed my chosen words: "I used to have a parrot..." Used to. He's not mine anymore; he may not be dead or gone, but he's out of my house and out of my life, and it's still hard to believe.

As miserable a little curmudgeon as he consistently was, it really is true what they say: you don't realize how much you can miss something until it's gone. I never suspected how much he and his little quacks and squawks meant to me until I knew I may never hear them again.

Now the only question that remains is, is it harder to imagine and forget them, or relive them through our final video together. I'm not positive which is more painful, or merciful.

The Top Of His Blog Is Still Showing! Scratch At It!

I had a thought yesterday as I was driving home.

I was playing a hodgepodge of John Powell music (my favorite) when I noticed an electronic YOUR SPEED sign right around Beverly Hills. I was stuck in traffic, so I had a good many minutes to contemplate it, watching its little panels flipping madly every couple seconds to update the newest radar results. And as I stared at it, I was amazed how much work and intelligence goes into even something as small and simple as a speed sign.

Not only is it installed with proper cameras and triggers to measure out distance and rate of motion, this device can translate that to a number, THEN orchestrate an elaborate pattern of colored squares to properly indicate that number -- all in the blink of an eye. What sort of genius knows how to accomplish all that?

It was then that my attention changed back to the music I was listening to, and how powerful and nuanced it was. How is it that humans are so diverse in our talents -- that the same guy who can put together a speed-detecting, self-changing sign likely can't do a thing worth listening to with a pad of staves and some instrumentation? And why (or how) is it that John Powell, in his brilliant instincts and impeccable talent, can't design a radar sign even if you handed him a blue print? To think how equally masterful we can be of technics and art is mind-blowing, almost as mind-blowing as the fact that very few people (if any) can ever be masters of both.

Thank God that there are two kinds of smart, and what a miserable, woeful world this would be if we were not to have both.

I Know What You're Thinking -- Did I Write Five Blogs Or Six?

I think this entry's title is a fitting one, to chalk a post up to my man Dirty Harry. That guy knew violence; he understood action.

It's been a long while since I've gotten to bite my teeth into some cinematic testosterone, and it's starting to show. The more devoid my filmmaking life is of action scenes, the more badass trailer music I have to play to get through the day. And today, I think I listened to multiple hours of it. I am positively FAMISHED.

So what've I been up to? A lot of Pixar-esque animation, a Charlie Chaplin short, and some nonfiction edits to keep the lights on. Earlier tonight, I dug out a feature I never finished editing, and started sorting out a(nother) trailer for it, just to cut some good shots to great music. Unfortunately, it's a really old movie, and so it's not very good, period.

Besides, half the fun of a fight scene is developing one fresh and new, right there on set with actors and cameras. That's what it's all about. And of course, being part stuntman, getting the opportunity to also jump in and participate. In fact... yeah, I think that's what I want to do most of all. Because, honestly, it's really hard to stand back and watch other people go through the motions when you're bursting at the seams to do it yourself, and it just so happens that I'm also made for physical abuse. My mutant ability is to gracefully take inhuman damage, I guess, so I like to put it to use. All in the name of the movie.

I've got a lot of writing to do, and still a ton of animation to handle, but right now, all I can think about is kicking some serious butt and whacking big globs of slow-motion spit out the corners of peoples' mouths. Every time I look at my window, I wish I were smashing someone through it.

That's totally healthy, right?

Maybe I need to watch Die Hard tonight.

I Killed You, Mr. Anderson; I Watched You Blog -- With A Certain Satisfaction, I Might Add.

Longest entry title yet.

So, the latest life updates run as follows: I still have an (unwanted) excess of free time on my hands -- not unwanted because I have nothing to do, but unwanted because I don't feel capable of doing what I want with it. Rather than truly utilizing the time to write and edit and animate, I feel obliged to continue a fruitless search for any form of employment, be it Wendy's, Burger King, or Twentieth Century Fox.

Meanwhile, I -have- been writing. Recently getting the pen was my original screenplay GHOST NINJA, an action-horror-comedy in the vein of Scream or Friday the 13th. It's largely based on ridiculous kills, Apatowan dialogue, and a lot of cheesy stalking/startling scenes. The hope is that because it's actually minimal on spare bodies to gut, it's really getting drawn along by the characters and their witty dialogue -- that's not something you see a lot of in horror, is it? Oh, and I'm casting Anthony Hopkins as the Ghost Ninja. Not really, but if he said yes, then really. ;)

I also hit a snag of energy in my animating, doubled with a loss of faith in my ability to really meet my writer's vision of the events and characters. That passed, but to be sure, I am massively delayed and probably won't complete the movie by the end of the month. A shame, since it was made specifically for Valentine's Day, with a new character and everything -- but then, if it got me to make a new character, one who fits so snugly already into the existing cast and plotlines, then it can't be a bad thing.

Lastly, Matt and I completed our first LA collab film -- "On the Line," a story about a man and his laundry. Nothing groundbreaking, but cute and fun and executed well. Several people have already referenced it to the work of Pixar... but in live-action form. I'm not sure what our next project will be, but I've got another script lined up for the taking, and more than enough interested parties to work on it with. This one *SPOILERS* deals with the Grim Reaper hiring a lackey for tasks around the office, and his attempts to train him in the art of proper Reaping. If you liked 'On the Line,' stay tuned for this one as well. :)