10:15 p.m. - 2007-01-12
welcome to my crib, interview with a famous director
Welcome to my Crib, Interview with Director
I shall greet you at my door, naked.
Except for a pair of checked blue cotton boxers.
They are flimsy but I am not making a tent, so it�s okay.
I wish I have some hair on my chest, but I guess under my arms is enough.
I extend one arm, magnificent armpit hair showing, and welcome you to my house.
�Hi, welcome to my house�
It�s nothing great�
Just come on in.�
I say, �Come on in� casually, but also in a very cool manner, as if I�ve always had all sorts of acquaintances and strangers popping over to my place all the time. Which is incidentally the case.
The cameras are rolling� as always when I�ve company� and I�m the one being shot.
As always. Unchanging. Eternity. I never complain for lack of sponsors and deserved patronage.
I strum a few chords on a guitar in my bedroom, such sweet music filling the air. I just need to get a few words more and the song I�ve wrote while waiting for you will be complete� not to mention my Swarovski crystal award they�re putting final touches to, for the MTV ceremony a few months in the future. But I�m exaggerating� MTV is too cheap, it�s really plastic.
Some movie posters hang elegantly on the walls. Others are just in perfect poise.
I show you a few of my �artist in misery� notebook collections, since my secondary school days.
I read out a terribly macho and yet sensitive passage from my latest work, �Velvetiness Snow�.
I make a request for a 10-minute smoke cum meditation break (I�ve recently picked up Zen Buddhism and have also written a book about it, available at all good bookstores.), so that I may prepare myself for your barrage of earnest and probing questions about my life and very meaningful output of work.
I�ll get my people to talk to your people so that a cup of coffee can be served at 2pm sharp, for I really really need some coffee.
Okay, you may commence the interview.
30mins of my precious time passes.
At a very critical moment, I get up and pace the room�
�How can I explain to you idiots gently without hurting your little egos but also driving my point into your tiny brains under those thick skulls, that the human condition is driven by invisible forces� that� that that are irrational, that are fleeting, that are almost crazy, and yet perfectly sane and magical and and� what�s that word, Tony�yes� sensitivity� it�s like� a pinprick� on your skin� except imagine� that this is a very tiny microscopic pin� so that when it pricks you, you only feel the slightest, slightest� whisper� like �pr�� instead of �prick�, or even �pri�� it is that light. �pr�� Extremely sensitive.�
But aniwae� you guys dun understand.
What you understand is figures, box-office results, number of eyeballs, advertising dollars, product placements� whores!
False idols!
This world is full of false idols!
Those lying cheats will con you of your last breath, even as your last dollar slips into their grasping dirty hands.
The fuckers.
The army of fuckers.
i shall never understand why this thing went so awry... i meant to write an extension of My Resume Film, about a person's desperate lunge to become a decent commercial artist...but... this...this?... God, what is this monstrosity i have wrought?
i have discovered the use of 3 dots in a row (...) and they are certainly fun to use.
