Repress Yourself

Tired of paying hundreds of dollars in therapy? Fed up with prescription pill addictions and office furniture couch-sores? Has your psychologist stopped seeing you since you made a pass at him? Or maybe you're an amateur analyst and are looking for a chance to gain experience as an advice columnist. Bloggers: substitute these posts for therapy sessions and readers: comment away.

06 April 2005

Sleepless nights, Bright ideas

Since last November or so, I've been experiencing many sleepless nights. I'm traditionaly nocturnal so this is not a complete surprise. But I also loves me some sleep, so its been somewhat troubling.

Most of the time I sit in bed, crank up the headphones, and think of a million projects I want to take on. Occasionally I will have an idea so "brilliant" I will sit up and write it down immediately, only to discover a crumpled piece of paper with a bunch of nonsense on it a few days later.

One night I was listening to Cavedweller and I thought it would be fucking fantastic to edit together all three Lord of the Rings movies into one 45-minute short film, take out all the dialogue, score it with Cavedweller music and call it "Lord of the Cave." I couldn't stop thinking about it. I would re-listen to all the songs and place them with a particluar scene in the movie in my head.

I wish I was still the person with nothing better to do than these kinds of projects, ridiculous or not. I wish I didn't spend all my free time yakking on the phone, reading magazines, and watching Veronica Mars.

Who am I kidding? Veronica Mars is an excellent show! I'm sorry I said that. I never meant to hurt you, UPN. Please don't take away America's Next Top Model.

Anyway, I guess my point (if there is one) is that most of the time I can't tell if the ideas I have are the best idea ever or the worst idea ever
. It seems like they are one or the other. Or both. Once I wrote a treatment for a screenplay called "American Funk" which was basically an "Enemy of the State" style run-from-the-government action film starring Mark Wahlberg as... Marky Mark. You know... Marky's in trouble, he needs help, and there's only one thing he can do: he has to get The Funky Bunch back together! Because in my world The Funky Bunch was more than a band (in fact, they weren't much of a band): they were an elite team of crime fighters. They were patriots.

But I neglected mentioning this to most people I know because (a) I don't want them to think I'm totally insane (too late) and (b) I don't want anyone to steal my idea for what could possibly be the biggest blockbuster hit ever. EVER!

American FUNK!

Someone help/stop me. Thank you.

4 Comments:

At 9:49 AM, Anonymous Mr. Tabby said...

i think i'm in love with you, kittenpants. i have this idea of us snorkeling off the coast of japan and then drinking tea in a hi-tech cafe and then swimming in a pool on the hundredth floor of a building which on the outside is completely neon and glowing but on the inside is shadowy and sexy and a little doomed-seeming.

 
At 10:37 AM, Anonymous mr. tabby said...

scratch that.

after the hi-tech cafe, we go to a beach at night-time and it's really warm because we're in the bahamas now, and then a shiny barracuda flies through the air, like a bird, and we make fun of it and then we feel bad for making fun of it, and then we make fun of a crab that'll be trying to swim inland, but keeps getting thwarted by backward waves, waves that go backward. and the crab is fifteen feet wide so we're scared of it, too, which is sexy. the crab is white and it glows. maybe it's a boat crab. a boat that's also a crab. whatever it is, we should make fun of it because of the backward waves. ha-ha, you are being thwarted by backward waves.

 
At 11:17 AM, Blogger kittenpants said...

I wish your fantasies of me wouldn't include so many water activities. I don't like the way I look in a bathing suit. Not even in someone else's imagination.

 
At 12:59 PM, Anonymous mr. tabby said...

in the desert, we ride camels. instead of humps, the camels have compartments, like in a train. these are inverted humps. we sit in these special compartments and slap each other and pat each other's heads. at night, we go into outer space, to the moon. because really the camels are NASA shuttles, and that's why the compartments are so tight and have blinky knobs. on the moon, it's really scary and we should've brought coats.

oh shit, did i backtrack too far. did i fuck up our relationship already. oh shit.

 

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