vanity fair a’int too shabby a place to have your name dropped.

this is a satisfying moment. nothing like an opening weekend, but satisfying nonetheless. this particular page-turning event is, perhaps, a wee bit more exciting than usual because it was unexpected. in between books and longing for semi-mindless poolside reading, i bought this vanity fair primarily because i’d read everything else out there.

[and when i say “i’d read everything else” let me clarify that by saying i’d read People Magazine and US Weekly and THAT is where i draw the line on tabloid trash. i simply will not subject myself to National Enquirer’s celebrity cellulite coverage or OK Magazine’s report on Katie Holmes’ latest pregnancy rumor. for fuck’s sake, how many times in a 6-month period can that girl get knocked up??]

reading this article, i am immediately taken back to a coffee shop in williamsburg when ‘pariah’ was not much more than a dream and a script. three of us sat there together on that saturday morning: myself (brought in as a consultant to the film), the director (written about in VF) and the producer (who is totally rad). we drank hipster blends of organic coffee and drew up plans of how we could think outside the box and create something out of almost nothing. there was no money. there were no a-list stars (except for Spike Lee who, at that point, was only loosely attached as an executive producer. and who, as it turns out, is a rockstar.)

there was hope and there was determination.

‘pariah’ got made. it got sent to sundance. it blew a lot of minds. and it’s coming to a theater near you.

this is every independent filmmaker’s dream come true.

it’s the gold medal. the triple crown. the superbowl ring.

it’s the number one reason we put up with the long and irregular hours. it’s why, after 16 hours on set, we come home and continue to work. it’s why we deal with bullshit and deal with it well. it’s why we’re okay with swallowing our pride and swallowing it hard. it’s why we know how to define insanity because we stare it in the face multiple times a day. it’s why we aren’t afraid of doing things that seem impossible and probably are. it’s why no one understands how we do what we do and do it without breaking. it’s why we are able to smile at the world when we have, in fact, been broken.

and one more thing:

jennifer lopez’s boobs look amazing.

things that float.

boats on the hudson.

and me on the delaware.

life jackets are pretty awesome and allow you to embrace lengthy bouts of laziness in situations where treading water (or standing. i mean, i was in all of 3 feet of water for crying out loud.) requires more of an effort than you are willing to spend.

the whole keeping one’s head above water thing is also rather useful in the event that you pass out from too much heat or too much laziness.

double bonus.

unrelated and somewhat irrelevant: i saw ryan gosling’s new flick ‘crazy, stupid, love’ today and since i know him personally, i can tell you with certainty that, yes, he is absolutely that good looking in person. i doubt you find that shocking.

this is something i truly appreciated for the first time as i walked around brooklyn with him under a shared umbrella in the pouring rain for about an hour.

told you my chosen career has its perks.

making friends with super hot movie stars is one of them.

strolling with them under umbrellas is another.

dashboard confession part two: rappers make everything more complicated.

this is something i know a lot about. fortunately or unfortunately.

who would have thought this snapshot would have my week spinning on its axis. i won't explain why. it's a complicated element of this whole filmmaking shenanigan and i doubt my explanation would make much sense to y'all anyway.

music videos are the worst. trust this. and rappers have a way of really throwing absurdity into 6th gear.

they often come fully furnished with semi-crazy agents, entourages for miles, and riders so incredibly arrogant that peon production assistants have been known to spend entire days scouring a 3-state radius looking for flavors of candles that only exist in weird places like iceland.

i rearranged the truth and told the city of new york we were shooting a "commercial."

it's better for everyone and, well, what that really means is it's better for me.

and better for me is how i'm rolling this week.*



[*i'm not that selfish. it's better for absolutely everyone involved. and even those who are not involved.]

Location:it changes every 7 seconds.

here’s what.

sometimes my job sucks. and sometimes it rocks.

today, well, it rocks.

since i was still of mix-tape and beeper age (although i never actually had a beeper but really wanted one. and once got left with my friend katherine’s beeper and enjoyed an awesome 12-hour period of feeling extra cool), i have wanted to make movies. or be a part of them. and never for the fame and red carpets and shoulder-rubbing with people who make an obscene amount of money pretending to be someone else. because i can do that on a bi-daily basis. for free.

no, i actually kinda like walking to the bodega for some neosporin knowing that not one person i pass has any clue who i am. or even cares.

but i always wanted the movies.

so i did it.

and it hasn’t been an easy road.

i’ve been beat up, spit out, and yelled at to the point of tears and vomit.

[and also applauded. i don’t forget the applause. it keeps me grounded and secure]

but i’ve met the most amazing people, sometimes simply by knocking on the door to their shanty-town-hole-in-the-wall-project-apartment and being invited in for coffee. or conversation. or skepticism. always skepticism. (until i turn on the southern charm and they realize i am not there to rob them blind)

i get paid to meet people and invite myself into their lives. and while i (twice) did this while simultaneously hearing gunshots 20 yards away, i always left a little different than when i walked in.

tougher. smarter. much much smarter.

i spent a lot of time at the start of my career being shipped out to random new-to-me towns where i knew no one and nothing. they gave me a map and a rental car and said “go.”

and i went. i always went.

but it took its toll . . . on my mind, body, spirit, relationship.

so i eased up. a lot.

i cut back on the insanity, the absurdity, even the good times of working overnights and then watching the sunrise with a collection of people who were the only people in the world who could honestly rationalize why we were all there watching the sunrise when “normalcy” said we should be sleeping.

screw normalcy.

so i’m going back out. bigger than the 6 months on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. harder than the “sorry, we ran out of water” time spent in Phoenix … in july … (which probably warranted some sort of labor union law suit). stranger than the bout spent in St. Louis (which is arguably the weirdest city i’ve ever inhabited, even if it was only temporary).

and if wifi is on my side . . . i will blog about it.

or at least take a ton of photos and upload them on faceboook.

this is going to be nuts.

mark my word.