26 May How far will I go to get what I want?
So, I am on a boat driving around a couple of Middle Eastern or Columbian guys (this isn’t a racial thing, I just think in my dream these guys had a lot of money and that’s what they looked like). It’s a fucking yacht. In the theme of big-ass Miami-type luxury. It’s Memorial Day weekend so I can see where the dream was coming from. Boats, bitches, water, and a party on the mind. We are cruising up and down the ocean beach, big waves. It’s foggy now. I have been up for an hour and the immediate recollection of the dream has faded and I can’t remember minor details, I just got the main points.
Somehow these guys’ father, some kind of prince or something, was laying on the beach with some ladies I had lined up. I’m pretty sure I was hired to “produce” a good time for them and we were having it. Doing whatever the fuck we wanted to out in the ocean, drinking champagne, bouncing over waves, like a movie of drug lords. I remember one of the guys being super drunk and wanting to drive the yacht. The next thing you know he was driving it, right toward the beach of the huge hotel we were based at. And then right up on to the beach over his own sun-bathing father and mistresses. He beached the yacht and ran over his own dad!
Now the dream had gotten out of hand. Police came and took the guys into another room and I started stressing out like, this ain’t gonna end good. Murder on the beach, run over by a yacht. Weird. Next thing you know, the guys come out of a patio-bar like nothing happened. The one guy winks at me and then next thing you know we are talking about making movies, using the dead father’s inheritance! Like as if that was the plan the whole time. Run the dad over with the boat and use his money! I thought we were just partying and having a good time. Jesus.
So flash forward to the studio. A very empty, big studio, with a table, and a few computer bays in the middle of the room. I am running through potential projects with my producing partner, Betsy, and some assistant girl. She’s changing looks and filters and going through examples of sample scenes and old footage of good and relative movies trying to find how we want the film to look. I can’t remember what the movie was or who’s script it was, I just know it was gonna cost 30 million dollars to make, but then the Colombians changed their interest. They wanted something more guaranteed. They were being all secretive and weird. So we started looking at the script I wrote, “Tommy”. Like throughout the process with the shady Middle Eastern Colombians I fucking forgot that I wrote the perfect movie for us to be making. We start searching through potential actors and other producers, the perfect team, matching the identical package I have created in real life. Except somebody really wanted Justin Timberlake. WTF? I don’t even know how he fits. Then we started busting through the package I envisioned. Committed to making it for two million bucks. Then it got more weird. People started to fill the room. Everyone I had envision. People were collaborating, stuff started to click, one idea led to the next, and suddenly we were making a movie. Then I woke up.
Bottom line, two rich brothers killed their father for his money so they could roll around making movies however the fuck they wanted to and I got to be the lucky guy to find them, starting with my own. I didn’t care if the money came from a dead murdered guy. I wanted to make my movies.
My fucked up dream that I had last night got me thinking. It’s time to step it up. Quit waiting for more people not to tell me “no”. Quit waiting for people to help me. My project is out there in about five places of “potential” awesomeness. Time to go knock down some doors and get some real “no’s”. Or “yes’s”. Some real results. Not potential. Not unknown. Real fucking answers.
It’s a beautiful time in my life. I have a bunch of wonderful opportunities in my career happening right now. I’m producing another film with Betsy, my partner I referenced in the dream, and Cineville. I’m also producing some web stuff that’s gonna be fucking huge with a couple other guys I envision working with for a long long time. I think I am producing a movie with them this summer as well. Just hoping the two movies don’t overlap too much. What I am NOT doing is working on my film enough. I need to grow some bigger balls and start bashing through some doors. I think I’ve been way to fucking skeptical and scared to get denied. I just have to call CAA. I don’t want to, I’d rather go directly to the guy I want to work with’s house and ask him. I don’t think the “potential” people I’ve reached out to even know I’ve reached out to them.
In my dream I didn’t care if I killed someone to get what I wanted. If that was what it took, so be it. Crushing a body with a boat? That’s crazy and then I just go on like regular business. No big deal. Pretty fucking funny actually.
My good friend asked me why I hadn’t been writing here. I didn’t have an answer. Apparently my balls have shrunken up and I have been too scared to make some mother fucking moves. Not anymore.
Have a Happy Memorial Day weekend and don’t be surprised if you see me ballin’ after the holiday. Lock your fucking doors because I am coming.