afreaka, i'm sorry

i decided that i can just as easily get killed riding my bike through midtown at rush hour, so why the fuck should i go to africa? on top of which, i'm making a film about the world hamburger-eating championship, and if that doesn’t do something to better our sad globe, i don’t know what will.

i worked for like two weeks straight and then i drank for about a week and now i'm going to work again, starting a few hours ago, for the next four days. they're getting me in for one or two more battlegrounds days this weekend, and then monday i'm filling in for old ryan kennedy on a comedy central shoot managed by old susie sklar of battlegrounds 2003.

today, since i'm writing this, it's probably obvious where i'm working - edit-town usa. best job ever. got to watch an incredibly hot girl in an amazing role as a hot girl who is made of fire or something so she really is hot. she's from thailand (i did the research on that one). she's got super-cute freckles, she's skinny and never talks in the whole movie. amazing. the movie's called "volcano: nature unleashed" and it'll be on the sci-fi channel at some point. my favorite scene, i think, is the one with the lake - complete nonsense.

now it's some behind-the-scenes mtv trl shit on the set of the tenacious d movie that i didn't even know was being shot and now that i do know it, my life hasn't changed a bit - as if the film never existed, i will never watch it.

ponce de leon sells out

my old band has decided to go and cash in, corporate style. BUY SOME. give it to your dad for fathers' day, becasue you forgot to even call him yesterday.

IN OTHER NEWS:

i went from 80/20 staying in ny, to 50/50 going to africa. no reason.

and now also, the age-old question has rearisen - when will i go back to work? the phone no ringy.

let's be honest-part 1 (1980 through 1997(correction))

after starting off SO STRONG i somehow forgot about this one, strangely, as it's the first gig i take with exactly the most minimum of qualifications:

Job: Valet, Ridgewood Country Club, Ridgewood, New Jersey, February 15 - March 12, 1997
Expected Skills/Knowledge/Training/Attributes: a driver's license, clean record, presentable appearance, some driving skill.
Actual Qualifications: i receive my license exactly two days before taking this job, brought to me by a valet friend and fellow heavy pot-head. this isn't to say that i am an unskilled driver - i am naturally inclined and have been at it on and off, for friends more drunk/drugged than i, for about three years - but high-performance (ferrari, porsche) race type manual trannies? nope, no idea. my record, all two days of it, is clean as a whistle. i look good. none of this changes the fact that i have no idea how to handle about a third of the members' cars.
The Experience: at first this job is awesome. i get blazing high and my friend covers all the cars i can't step to. he teaches me stick on easier cars (bmw 5 series, audi, etc.) out in the back of the lot, far from the members' view. the money is shit - our boss takes our tips and pays us an hourly wage. we pocket as much as we reasonably can. then i start taking sticks. fuck it, right? i stall twice in front of one member, in his porsche. i figure it out after a few days, drive a couple of ferraris.
Result: i quit because i don't really need the money since graduation gifts are looming and my parents are already leasing me a brand new sweet black pathfinder. god i miss that car. fuck my jeep. so the money sucked anyway, i could just as easily smoke weed and drive my own car and on my own schedule even. plus, i'm about to graduate high school, go to snowboard camp and then travel around europe all on my folks' dime. what the fuck am i doing with a job in the first place? now i can drive stick.
Music: sublime's "smoke two joints..." because, well there were always joints everywhere. i don't know where we were getting our weed from at this point, but it was incredible - oh yeah, from that kid justin - and purple and didn't even really look or smell like any weed i'd ever seen before and i could take one hit and be completely enthralled for an hour or two. this is also when i am president of my high school's student council. god save the president.

cleaning up

the pistons finally did it tonight, and i miraculously continue to. my employment pessimism pays off, to the tune of $3600 income in the last seven days.

thank you nike. it might cover my credit card bills.

a-freak-a looms terrifying (the director: "no, but really what i'm asking, mate, is can you run, through the jungle, while being chased by militant rwandan militia?"). i'm sending in my visa application on thursday, and getting an array of poisonous shots to combat future potential congo poisons. will i go? no idea. i had to take a valium tonight because of the fear of making the decision. how the fuck will i handle the assault rifles (hands in the air, "i'm an american journalist!" then shot, or, even better, kidnapped and locked, hooded, in a jungle shack).

anyway, politics is hollywood for ugly people (via w+k's sarah the story producer).

time to shower and finish cleaning up.

i got the fear - fear of the congo. fear of the fear of being shot and killed. i guess maybe now i can relate to the street-baller kids we're filming this week. we had a cryer today. almost got me going too. but tomorrow, the last day of high school. go graduates! go ballers! go MTV! NIKE! PAYCHECKS!

gotta be at work in 6 hours. sweet.

what i learned on this shoot

watching a lot of basketball doesn't make me good at it, but i still have a decent jump-shot.

selling crack to an undercover will get you in shit-loads of trouble.

juco (jew-ko) means junior college. basketball players with bad grades go to juco or, if they're really nice players, they go to a prep somewhere on a scholarship.

you can be jamican, religious, epileptic, narcoleptic, earnest, and seven-feet tall all at the same time.

Ebola Hemorrhagic Fever in the Republic of the Congo

basically your entire vascular system fails, turning to mush, and you bleed yourself to death on the inside. i have received a job offer that will bring me to the heart of the region where this "fever" is currently outbreaking.

it's been a week and a lot to note as rationalization for not keeping up with this web journal venture.

slept with an ex-girlfriend. not a good idea this time, though some say it never is.

when someone has insecurities, is it inevitable that they'll attribute to you the same judgements they have of themselves, and then blame you for thinking the very things about them that they think about themselves even though there is scant evidence that you actually think these things and you really don't. or at least you didn't...

earlier that day i got a call about this documentary in equatorial africa on the MSF (doctors without borders). something about embarking mid-july and covering humanitarian aid missions in impoverished nations - AIDS, malnutrition... In the week since, it's turned into leaving anywhere from a week from now (don't i need shots or something?) to the first week in july and moved from sad zones into HOT ZONES, like COMBAT ZONES, which are certainly also sad but with the addition of artillery. the director and producer took me out for lunch today and asked after my physical fitness. like, can i run through the jungle if chased by rwandan militia? hm...

meanwhile, $550 a day for battlegrounds part 3. booked 5 days originally, with the offer of fifteen for later in the month. now i'll be lucky if i get 5 total. they keep changing plans, ruining my money.

tonight i'm loading the worst footage i've ever seen in my life. the project will remain nameless so i don't get fired if anyone ever reads this. i am amazed people were paid to make what i'm looking at.

but i have the promise of endless consistent employment from this post house, and when you weigh that against africa, at exactly the same day rate (which they do indeed share), they have so little to do with each other that i can't even remember my own name.

MEANWHILE

i'm only using credit cards for expenses due to lack of cash. there are many expenses. but i have jobs. so, one day, i will also have money. but when? and will it be soon enough?

soar, throat

i may sing karaoke tonight, through the pain. but for now, the edit assisting gig has begun. although my pay has yet to be agreed upon, i am working regardless, and on a project, a glamour project even, starring the inimitable duo of latifah and cool j (aka the next marky mark).

i am tired and sick and vh1 has offered 250k for the adultery pilot. hmm. we now attempt to start a bidding war between them and hbo and showtime. probably sticking with the vh1 deal, but it's not up to me, and even though i did all the research, wrote the original pitch, and chatted up the execs at the meeting, i'll probably get about a dollar.

my throat hurts.

here, i'll tell a story:

there once was a receptionist who worked in the office where i will now work for the next month or so. she wanted to do it with me. she doesn't work here anymore. what the fuck? i gave her a rose.