Showing posts with label Something Begins. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Something Begins. Show all posts

Thursday, May 20, 2010

A New Blog

Yes, it makes perfect sense. Because I’ve been doing such a great job keeping this blog updated. A second one, absolutely, nothing odd about that at all.

But here’s the thing.

The purpose of the bobblog is that it’s about whatever I want it to be about, at any given moment. If I want to complain about an astonishingly uncomfortable bench outside a great big building in Century City, I can do that; if I want to share excerpts from something I’m writing, I can do that; if I want to relate a comical misadventure in Ireland, I can do that too. But from time to time I wax political, and very often when I do, it’s because I feel that someone official is lying to us, for reasons that have nothing to do with good governance and everything to do with exploiting us for their own gain. This is the sort of thing that makes me good and angry, every time.

So I’ve decided to create a new blog. I’m going to call it Damn Lies, an obvious play on “lies, damn lies and statistics.” (Attributed to Disraeli but disputed; Mark Twain popularized its use.) This new blog will only ever be about one thing: the various ways we’re being lied to, and why. It will be political, economical and social, but it will almost certainly never relate how I locked myself out of my car or what those crazy siblings are up to.

Here’s a bit of overlap: the following will intro the new blog...

While writing my first novel I discovered my theme. Proust asserts that every writer only really has one theme, and every new work is a renewed attempt to express that theme, or a piece of it, better than the last work did. (If I could find the quote I would provide it, but those books are huge.) And so, while I was writing a novel that turned out to be about the way our lives are like stories that we tell to ourselves, I realized that this is the idea I will probably explore for my entire life. In my newest work, a play based on the infamous cadaver synod, I examine the ways institutions lie to us, but how the power of a good example, a good story, even if it’s just propaganda, can still transcend its manipulative origins.

Segue to this new blog.

As you can guess from the title, it will focus on the lies we’re told, and how those lies are used to exploit us. But from time to time I hope to also tell the other story, about how we’re able to, let’s just say, take a sad song and make it better. I’ll try to keep it light and entertaining, to restrain the impulse toward outrage can make an outrageous subject seem muddy and clouded, thereby weakening its impact. But when anger is called for, angry I will be.

So there you go. There’s more over on the blog, namely a quick examination of gift cards and calling cards and how they’re being used to swindle us. Just a little taste of what’s to come. Hope you’ll take a look.

Monday, December 28, 2009

A New Thing Comes to Life

Things I cannot yet discuss: the name of the movie, the work it’s based on, and why that guy did that thing in that particular way.

But, speaking as a producer of said unnamed motion picture-to-be, I can tell you that the all-important “first money” is in the bank. It’s called that because it is, literally, the first money anyone invests in the movie, and it is prized because it represents the greatest leap into the dark for any investor. For all those who follow, there is the comfort of knowing that someone else has already signaled their faith in the project via their checkbook, and that the project is almost certainly going forward. “First money,” then, represents the nudging of the boulder, the thing that frees it from stasis and starts it rolling downhill. We can now use this money to make an offer to a name actor, and once an actor is attached it becomes that much easier to close the deal with other investors. Each step forward makes the next step (slightly) easier, till the boulder acquires its own momentum and a movie gets made.

When you’re listening to a director’s commentary on a DVD, you sometimes hear a director say something like “This project took three years to put together.” It’s one thing to hear that in the abstract; it’s another thing to have to live through it. Didn’t take three years for this specific project, but it has been three years since “Zen Noir” was released in trying to get some project moving forward, dammit, and that’s been a mighty long and agonizing time.

But now we’ve got a check. And it’s cleared the bank, too. That means we get to move forward now. And soon I’ll even be able to say what and when and why and how.

That thing about that guy, however, will have to remain top-secret for forever. Sorry.