I've moved my blog back to Blogger. I find the features better there, and they allow RSS feeds.

So if you want to keep reading my dumb posts, you can find them here:

http://deadponies.blogspot.com

Last night I had dinner with Farrah Fawcett. She had the booth side of the table. I sat on a beige colored square cushion seat with no back. I don't remember what we ate, but she was drinking some fizzy water. Maybe it was 7-Up.

Later that evening, on one of those river steam boats with those big turning wheels, I proposed to Kyrie. I don't remember how she answered.

Kyrie was really at a club last night. I was really asleep.

But when I woke up it was our 1 year anniversary.

I'm sad now.

On Friday, my psychiatrist asked me to start keeping a journal so I can record each time I experience these certain things that he thinks I should be medicated for.

I just looked, and already have twelve separate entries.

On paper (or digital paper, in this case) it's really illustrative of what a nutjob you are. Fuck. Come July, I'll probably be all dosed up again.

Sometimes, before I see my psychiatrist, I am overcome with dread. Sometimes a couple days in advance.

Sometimes, I walk out of there feeling worse about myself than before I walked in.

Today, I was given homework. Oh joy, a log. Keeping tabs on myself so by extension, he can keep tabs on me.

Talking about another MRI on my brain. That is the suck.

Right now, I don't care how fucked up it is. I'm writing really well.
And I had been feeling so good about that.

On one of my homepages, I have a quote of the day application that does exactly that--it gives me a quote of the day. I like them, because usually they're literary or political, with a little picture of the person who said it.

Today there was a picture of a smiling Mel Gibson. The quote attributed to him was this one: "We went for breakfast... in Canada. We made a deal: if she'd stop hooking, I'd stop shooting people. I guess we were both aiming a little high."

That is a line from the film Payback. A film I like, not because of Gibson, but because of the performance by Gregg Henry, and because Lucy Liu is uber hot.

Anyhow, why is this quote credited to Gibson?

The writing credits for the film actually go to: Donald E. Westlake, Brian Helgeland, and Terry Hayes. But Gibson gets the credit because he agreed to say the line as written in the script? Whatever. So I'm deleting the application. Good job, Mel.

BTW, I think a much better quote is one delivered by the aforementioned Gregg Henry. He plays the role of Val Resnick. He just got angry in a restaurant and starts a commotion. His dining companion, Stegman (played by David Paymer) tries to calm him down.

Stegman: You know what, Val, this one's on me. Okay?
Val Resnick: Do you see me reaching for my fucking wallet?

But hey, Gregg isn't the superstar that Mel is.

The word is, I can't sell a script because everything I write is either:

-too dark
-too depressing
-makes people cry

My boss is retiring this week after 40 years. We're having a party for her at the University Club. I just wrote her farewell speech. She loved it and showed it to another co-worker. That co-worker is now crying.

le sigh.

I apologize for posting this so late; I know some of you were wondering how my meeting with that producer went.

It went pretty good--I have a self proclaimed fan in Hollywood, but I don't have a deal on the table yet.

I believe we have the potential of developing something together that will be mutually beneficial. We'll just have to see.

Okay, that's all I'm going to say now.

It's rare that I fall into an unsentimental mood, but when I do that's the best time for me to clean house.

I feel like I've been having a mini depression lately, not for any emotional reason I can deal with by talking about, but the kind of depression that makes me want to ask my psychiatrist for more pills.

Anyhow, I've been working really hard lately--I need to write this script for a producer who considers herself a fan of mine, as well as get everything prepared for my own film--we begin shooting on August 8th.

So the last thing I needed to be doing today was lying in bed watching My Life Without Me. I was scheduled to work on my film, but I didn't want to get out of bed.

My writing space had become too cluttered. Papers everywhere. In my mind, I began to blame my slow progress on the mess, and that was enough to make me resent it. That's when I became unsentimental. I packed up about 100 lbs of manuscripts. I didn't look through them to see what they were drafts of, I just packed them up for recycling.

Then I threw away a ton of other stuff. Things people gave me, things that I had kept to remember people by.

Now my space is clean. My mind feels clearer. I think I will be able to write for the rest of the day.

I go to my meeting with that production company in a few hours.

I hope something good comes of it.

We just received notice from the President of the University of California, that we can expect an 8% pay cut in August.

Well, I guess there are just ups and downs to a job paid for by the state.

Dear Hollywood,

Please be generous today.

-ponies

Yesterday, on my way home from work, I was behind a car with a bumper sticker that read, "Freedom isn't Free."

I believe the message behind this bumper sticker is that we should honor those who are and have served in the military for laying down their lives or putting themselves in harms way during war and other political conflicts.

I suppose that's fine, and suppose it makes a quaint bumper sticker, but I think I would have felt better had the sticker been on a car from 1943. Seeing it on this car however, made me wish that it also mentioned these things about the cost of American freedom today:

1-It involves attacking and threatening to attack people we presume are our enemies.
2-It means killing civilians.
3-It requires the oppression of those who do not share our global vision.
4-Those enlisted in our wars are most often fighting on behalf of causes that were thought up by people whom they do not know.

But I suppose if the sticker said all that, the font would have been so small that I would have rear-ended them.

On my way to work this morning, a song came on the radio that made my point much more concisely. I believe it went:

I said, war, huh,
Good God, y'all.
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing.

Okay. I'm done ranting.

Kyrie arrived yesterday. We went to dinner and then back to the airport to retrieve her suitcase that the airlines left in San Francisco. After I dropped her off for the night, I realized something--I already missed her. I think this could be good. I was worried what we would be like once she moved back, and I suppose I still am. However, following the times when she had visited in the past, my follow-up session with my shrink always included a segment where I described the best part of our visit was when we said good bye. Perhaps that sounds negative, but it's not. With all the meds pumping through my body, it's often difficult for me to feel anything, but not when she leaves--it's then that I definitely feel something. Last night too. It felt good to miss her. Perhaps those feelings will lessen as our visits become more frequent, but for right now, it's good. I'm happy.

The other thing is that my meeting with that production company is tomorrow. They just confirmed. The only thing I was waiting on was the location. They picked a restaurant that I'm not so sure I'm going to be able to eat anything at, but I won't request to change restaurants, because I hear it's quite the happening place. I'll just eat in advance. Now, I've got to figure out how to pitch this story where I agreed not to kill anyone.

And I'm thinking maybe this one.....but in a baby version:



Isn't is precious????

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

I saw both my psychologist and psychiatrist yesterday. Both sessions made me laugh. We spent so much time discussing my religious upbringing.

At the end of every session with my psychiatrist, he always asks if I need a receipt for my co-payment. It usually goes just like this:

"You'll be paying cash?"
"Yes."
"Do you need a receipt?"
"Yes, please."

And then he prints it, hands it to me, and I leave. (He used to shake my hand, but stopped. I don't know why. Maybe he picked up that I find it inappropriate.)

Anyhow, after our usual scripted lines yesterday, he added this question:

"What do you do with all of these receipts?"
The way he asked made me laugh out loud (rare in our sessions). But he sounded so suspicious.

So I replied, "I wallpaper my bedroom with them. That way I can obsess over our sessions."

HA HA HA HA

(Sars, if you read this, there is something secret I have to tell you....something amazing happened during my second session. It involves mood lighting. HA HA HA HA)

What a lovely sound.

In the middle of the night, I heard crunch, crunch, crunch.

It was loud enough to wake me up, but I knew enough to not turn on the light. I went back to sleep smiling.

And when I woke up, I checked in on Orlando. He freed himself from his old exoskeleton; his molt was complete.

It's so cool that my babies molted within days of each other. It will make the feeding process so much more convenient. They should both be hungry by next week.

happy spiders=happy ponies

So while I was sick with pneumonia all those days, I guess I racked up $71 in usage charges because I was often too tired to get my laptop to reply to emails. Just got my phone bill...$230 or something. Blah. Oh well. That finally motivated me to get unlimited internet again. If only I had done that while sick.

In more important news, I'm sleeping nearly naked tonight. I feel restless and just ripped my clothes off. Maybe I'm just preparing for Kyrie's arrival, because she's always naked.

I bleached my ponies out tonight so I could dye them purple. I'm so glad to be well again. Bunker on Friday with Elo. I was planning on Xile tomorrow night for the grand re-opening, but Giggles is being a poop head and saying she can't go because of her car. So anyone who reads this who knows her, please bug her to go.

Lastly, Iphegenia finally molted. I am so relieved. She hasn't eaten for at least four months. What's worrying me now is that Orlando is having a difficult molt. He is flat on his back with his legs extended. I'm hoping he makes it through the night. I do love my spiders. I feel like I understand mothers wanting more babies. I'm thinking of getting some new spiderlings soon.

I guess that's all. Toodles.