Tag Archives: slow

Netflix Whore

4 Nov

image

Books.

Back to paper and words again. I’m getting office fever as every day our sells drop and the hours slow to the point of almost going backwards.  So am back to treadmill-stepping in between phone calls, and feeding my brains with other people’s lives and words.

…Just finished this for instance:

image

…Purchased as part of my usual actor-stalkiness.  Because, yes, it is in fact THAT Lauren Graham who wrote it.  Cuz guess what?  She’s an author too. And she ain’t bad.

…If you’re an actor, you’ll totally get it in a “call-out-during-baptist-sunday-service-amen” kinda way.  If you are not an actor, but like Lauren Graham…you can totally hear her quirky line delivery with every sentence. If you are a little (or lot) frustrated with how your life-plans are behind where they are supposed to be, you can treat it like a drinking game every time she nails what you feel like right now…(then drunkenly commiserate that at least you aren’t totally alone in feeling like this.) 

…And if you aren’t any of those things…sorta screw you a little bit.  You’re a giant big fat Gilmore-hating, money-making success.

Congratulations, asshole.

…Now I’m on this one:

image

“…That’s one hell of a segue,” you may be thinking right now.  And it is, but then, I realized like yesterday how two giant show auditions are just around the corner.  I was caught off guard, understandably, on account that both are like 4 and 6 months away from opening…but the powers that be, wisely looked at three major holidays ‘tween now and then and thought (I imagine, anyway), “Well, damn…plop all that together and it’s like a month of conflicts, we best get on this shit!”

…I specifically like the powers-that-be for “Miracle Worker” thinking that…just because shocking contrast makes me smile. (As if you haven’t guessed.) Almost as much as incomplete sentences, ellipses, and sinking smarmy parentheticals into everything.  I’m like a grammatical hooligan all up in here.  Not as blatant about it as the Twitter/texting aficionados, but then they are just secret freaks with their special number-acronym-mystery-language.  My stuff mostly makes sense at least. And rarely contains hashtags…which, BTW* are called POUNDS.

…Try telling that to a 20-year old sometime.

Go ahead. Try.

…Anyway…the book.  It’s about study time.  It’s time to hit the books again for this and other shows that will be popping up.  To get my jones on.  I feel it, already.  Plus, it’s got a two-for-one bonus of keeping my brain occupied until the next OITNB* season starts.  

(* yes, I note the irony. It’s part of the joke.  “Oh, there was a joke,” you ask?  Yes.  But it’s not funny now that I have to explain it. So thanks for that.)

So maybe I’m a little grumpy right now.  But only a little. It’s the “I’m busy reading don’t bug me” grumpy…not the real mean kind.  It is partly mixed with depression though…the depression of exhausting all my streaming joy sectors on Netflix. I’ve Gilmore-Girled, Parenthooded and Orange-Blacked myself through a wildfire of epic consumption.  All seasons…ALL…since just October 1st.

…I realize there is a wealth of “more” out there still to be had, but frankly, I don’t think I can get this close to another cast of characters again in such quick succession.  I sorta feel like a giant  streaming whore right now…just voracious appetite and flying through them faster than a bag of Costco Halloween candy on the day-after sale.  It’s a lot to hold onto. Like, in my head and heart.  I get too close to fake people.  And obsessive.

…Just ask my google history.

…Anyway…there is where we are. 

I’m on books now.

It somehow feels more personally productive. 

…Though as Lauren states in her book, it’s not like binging on quality TV isn’t an educational and worthwhile tool.  For instance, what if Netflix calls me up from that audition I never took and says, “Hey, we really need you to be in season 3 as Vee’s secret drug-mule daughter she left in Mexico that one time, but gets caught crossing the border, is put in the clink, and decides Red is gonna be her oedipal mom substitute. Do you need a character/family chart for that?”

…Now, (thanks to my diligent hours and hours of study), I can be like: “Dudes, I’m already on it.”

…And I’ll totally own that part.

…And win the Emmy.

The end.

~D

 
 

S’posed To Be…

26 Feb

image

Man, we are slow at the office.  Epic slow. Painful slow. 

The storm systems are killing our sales and everyone here is done with their day by like 9:30.  Going on week two.

…This is a good chance to do things like get paid to learn lines.  Which is what I should be taking advantage of right now, and not beating computer keys with my fingers, on a blog that has about as much plot purpose as a Seinfeld episode.

I have a purpose, but am choosing to ignore it.  Some more.  As I’ve already been ignoring it a lot to begin with.  But now I’m putting in writing that as soon as I get done with this SUPER informative episode of literary genius, I will immediately bust out my script and continue on with learning Act Two.

You are my witness.

…Course, I could choose to ignore all that last paragraph and stream more Netflix instead…how the hell would you know…but I won’t.  I will be the responsible actor that I should be.  I will fill up my coffee cup.  I will pull out my cue sheets.  I will open my script to page whatever-I’m-on, and roll it up in my fist, while pacing my office, stabbing the air occasionally with my word-sword as I chant sentences in repeat sessions like a fixated schizophrenic. 

…In this case: an overbearing Canadian Mother schizophrenic.

…I still have NO IDEA what the hell that even means…but I’ll figure that out later.

First come  the words.

…And the words from the page.

…And the page is in that bag over there.

…And if I just suck it up, and get to it…I bet I can be off book by 2pm.

…None of which will happen if I stay here.

…Doing this.

…Which has now just become a sad final attempt at procrastination.

…Involving ellipses as a bastard version of a postscript in which there was nothing to be said even in the main letter.

…The end.

P.S. No, but really.

~D

%d bloggers like this: