The Writing On The Wall

I'm reading the writing on the wall.
I'm sick of what it has to say.

Today it says STOP!

Stop your whining, stop your moping, stop your incessant complaining you hopeless little bitch. Can't you see the obvious? Can't you see why you're here?

The thing about being me is that I get awfully tired of hearing what other people are thinking. It would be different if they would talk to me, but they don't. I just hear about it. I want to shake some of them sometimes and scream, "Don't you get it?" Because apparently I do...sometimes.

Ay, there's the rub. I must whine about life more than anyone I know. But I do all my whining here...and I don't let it get me down. The world is full of shitty people, but that's just because they don't know the difference. There's a lot of good hidden around here somewhere, a lot of love, a lot of right. There's something else that we all seem to be missing.

So look, maybe I don't go about any of this in the right way. Maybe I'm not talking to the right people, but for the time being this is getting it done for me. And I can live with that. It doesn't work that way for everybody...so if the world's getting you down, and all you need is someone to listen a little while you're talking. You know where to find me...hell, I'm damn hard to miss.

Snap, Crackle, Pop-Motherfucker-Pop!

I'm all happy because I decided not to think about the world imploding today...shit. Forget it. I'm just as fucked up as usual.

The Week In Preview Review

Ah what a week...so here's how I did.

1) I did not make it into Philly for a cheesesteak. Maybe next week.

2) I did not prove there was a God, but I came damn close, and have finally formulated an excellent argument against many of the facets of organized religion. It will be here soon.

3) I did not make it to the movies.

Shit, I'm not doing so well here am I?

4) I did indeed buy a queen size bed, but then I saw how much sheets cost and I haven't gotten around to sleeping in it yet.

5) I moved that queen size bed into my apartment, along with some couches and my TV.

6) I bought the Taking Back Sunday CD. I've heard it before, but haven't gotten around to opening up my copy, I do have a little buyers regret because I think I should have bought the Franz Ferdinand CD instead.

7) I couldn't think up a new word, I'm just not that creative.

8) I did do a radio show, Matt and Katie were fantastic...I was just quiet which, of course, means we did not suck as much as usual.

So I'm four for eight, that's not bad. I think I need to give myself some more time on nine and ten.

Hop over to www.upsaid.com/futurerem to check out my latest thoughts on marriage, strippers, and life in general.

About Time You Found This...

Friday, August 27th 2004
Ipso-Fucking-Facto Fatman...Part II 2:01 PM

It was that sort of morning, it had been that sort of night. Poker night got called off because people have no idea how to stick to a plan, it's the same reason we're not going ATV riding this weekend (n'er worry old friend I will say no more about that). But it leaves me feeling rather blue, thinking about everything that happened in the past few months and everything that won't happen in the next few months.

I got in at a little before three this morning. Phone didn't stop ringing till nearly four. I barely got any sleep and when I woke up this morning I was so exhausted I could barely see straight. I went to brush my teeth, but accidentally put moisturizer on my tooth brush. I was looking at my toothbrush wondering why I would do something so stupid when my phone rang. I took the call, it was a waste of three minutes so I hung up the phone angry and proceeded to brush my teeth. It took me a second to realize why my toothbrush tasted funny. Shit.

I have no plans for tonight. I'd return to New Brunswick, but there would be nothing to do, and anyway the sky just seems to be a little bit lower there lately, bothers me something awful. I'd go to Millet's semi-bachelor party but chances are they'll end up at a strip club and for some reason I just don't have the normal male affinity for naked women. I'd go to the movies, but I'd have to go alone and that's really starting to get to me. I'll probably just end up moving some stuff into my new apartment, and maybe trying to write a new story.

"See you around."
"No you won't."
"Do you really believe that?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because it's the truth."

"Stop it."
"I can't."
"It's not like we're dying."
"You're not."
"Neither are you."
"But I might as well be."

"A crutch?"
"A crutch."
"You didn't need a crutch."
"I know, but it somehow made things more interesting."

"It was good seeing you."
"What?"
"It was good seeing you."
"Fuck you it was good seeing you. What the fuck is that?"

"Hey man, good luck."
"With what?"
"The rest of your life."

"So will you be there?"
"I had fun, thanks."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I don't know."

"How 'bout this, you say goodbye and I'll pretend I didn't hear you."
"What good will that do?"
"Because then at least one of us will have left here thinking maybe we didn't just make the biggest mistake of our lives."

"Hey."
"Hey."
"You know, I don't think you need to change a thing."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really. I kind of liked the ending."
"Really? Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"So..."
"Yeah..."
"I guess I'll see you around."
"I guess."
"Bye."
"Goodbye."

What a fool.

So hey, I, uh...I miss you guys.
Entry posted by King Zero note [Add] www E-Mail this entry

Look Out...The Palombas Got You!

Ah, the feeling of having someone stick their foot so far up your ass you can taste the toe jam. What a way to start a day.

The Palombas referred to in the title aren't my family, no if that was the case the entry would be called "Look Out...The Palombas Knocked You Up And Are Now Fleeing The Country." No, these Palombas are the most comedic of my maladies. These Palombas are the little brothers of the afflictions, these are the ones I can laugh about.

These are the Palombas that make me go back into a room I just left for the third time because when I went back to get what I forgot the second time I put down what I had left with the first time...

These are the Palombas which make me say the wrong thing in an awkward situation...

These are the Palombas which mean I can never ever open up those little milk containers to put into coffee without spilling them all over my pants...

These are the Palombas who give me that other look in my eyes...

These are the Palombas which let me laugh off everything else...but never let me forget exactly what I am and the fact that everyone else knows it.

This Palomba is heading south tonight, doing the WRSU thing yet again, and trying to figure out exactly where this is all going.

What a life, what a life, Oh me oh my what a life.

For a much better entry hop over to:http://www.upsaid.com/futurerem, where I will be posting an entry written last night called "The God of Tea and Cake" which is quite possibly the best entry I've ever written involving ATVs, Asian Rugs, Queen Size Mattresses, Veal Parmigian, Gay Sex, and Midgets, based on a misquotation of an old Eddie Izzard routine. With Upsaid having some minor difficulties it will be there at some point tonight, so when you get back in from whatever normal people do on Tuesday nights check it out. Or hunt me down and join me on the Philly run for a few cheesesteaks.

The Week In Preview

Palomba Says:

1) This week I will go to Philadelphia just to eat a cheesteak...most likely by myself.

2) I will prove by modern logic and cunning use of breakfast cereals that there is a God, I'm not him, and neither are you. But if it was a toss up between me and you...I'd win in a land slide.

3) I will go see at least one movie in a movie theater. If I go see a second it will be Spider-Man 2 even though I've already seen it once and paid to see it twice.

4) I will buy a queen size bed even though I never have to worry about sharing it with anyone.

5) I will move at least two things into my new apartment that has been empty for the past two weeks.

6) I will change the CD's I've been listening to for the past two weeks. Despite the fact I enjoy them all one can take only so much of Dashboard Confessional, Jet, Strata, Sevenwiser, and Velvet Revolver before you begin to crave a little B.B. King or Joe Cocker. Addendum:I will never again say I crave Cocker...it just doesn't sound decent.

7) I will make up a word and use it at least three times in three different contexts.

8) I will do yet another radio show down at WRSU, it will not suck as much as usual.

9) I will remember what I used to be.

10) I will decided what I want to be next.

First and foremost I will take care of payroll because if it's not done in the next thirty minutes, no one gets paid this week. Long live the King.

Y'all Fell Off

That's the message I get this week.

"Y'all fell off."

And I suppose I did. But so did you. And everyone else. Don't blame this all on me.

It ain't my fault.

One part ended and another part began and in between I had to do some thinking to get some shit straight. It isn't straight yet, but I'm getting there.

The whole world kind of disappeared on me. It hurt. It sucked. I didn't like it, not one bit. I was left standing here gazing up at the sky and wondering what the fuck just happened.

I shut down. The work bloggers shut down. Damn near every blog I read clammed up. People stopped returning my calls. Outside business my social interaction was reduced to brief exchanges with cashiers when I was buying shit I don't need.

I shut it all down...but just for a moment.

So that message was indeed an astute observation of the situation. "Y'all fell off" and we did, and now it's time to get back on. Here comes part four...keep your head down and your nose clean. Palomba's back.

Friday The 13th

Today we rise from the ashes, brush ourselves off, and begin to look for what comes next.

"When it's all burning... when it's over...
When it's all said and done,
were we ever even alive?"
- Strata

Who Are You? And What Are You Doing In My Cage?

This is my own private area and I'd appreciate it if you don't touch me there.

Just when I was beginning to think I was over it all (without the requisite closure mind you), I woke up this morning feeling like it was never gone. That hurt me.

Maybe it's because even though I actually slept last night I still woke up before four in the morning. I was still up before the sun.

In fact I was at work before the sun came up. I put the dogs away, opened all the gates and the trailers, set the board and started the pump. I checked the answering machine, warmed up the air conditioner, and made sure all the T's were crossed and the I's dotted. And when the sun came up I was there to watch.

Standing in the yard, with everything done and time before the madness would begin I appreciated the quiet of the morning more than I usually do. Maybe it was the situation, maybe it was the circumstances. Maybe it was because I knew what was coming. I knew that in the next several hours things would go wrong, fighting would errupt, people I know and love would become both happy and sad. I knew who was coming and who was going, I knew of impending doom and coming bliss. I also knew I would not take part in any of it. I would watch it all, much like I was watching the sun rise then. It felt like a bad poem waiting to happen, I even had the title picked out: Sun Rising On One Hundred School Buses.

And so in the pleasantness of the rising morning sun I took a minute to let the world shrink me, instead of the other way around. I felt small and inconsequential, but instead of loathing the feeling...for once I sort of enjoyed it. I knew what was coming, and I knew I wasn't really ready. Work was the least of my concerns, but it was the only thing I could really do anything about...so I did it. And that was all.

I've often said how every opportunity I've had is just another one I've let slip by. But let's be real here. I'm a young, bright, nice guy...and if I don't have more opportunities coming my way then I never really had a chance in the first place.

There's a lot more left of today, a lot more bad then good. And there's work to be done as well. No matter where tonight finds me, no matter how far off tomorrow seems, right now I'm where I need to be...and I got only good things on my mind.

Sit back, relax, let the morning flow by when things are looking so fine you got me losing my mind. Yeah.

Yeah, That's Right...I Did That

Sunday, August 08th 2004

Va te faire foutre Et Le Cheval Que Vous Êtes monté Dedans Dessus 11:37 PM

The over/under on the number of hours I will work tomorrow is eighteen. If you're smart you'll take the over, if you have a gambler's heart you'll take the under...and you'll most likely lose. I've spent the better part of the last week trying to think about what makes today different from yesterday. And then I figured it out. I'm starting to forget. I'm starting to forget what I spent the better part of the last year thinking about. I remember saying once that I couldn't remember what I thought about before I started thinking about the things I'm thinking about now. Now it's all begun to change. Now I can't remember why I thought there was any chance of things being different. Why I thought I could make things better. I'm starting to get used to things being like this...again. In a week I move into my apartment...it'll be my fortress of solitude...ha, ha, ha. I have a few more shows left at WRSU...I'll make the best out of them of course. I will continue to be creepy here and anywhere else I feel like because apparently I'm a creepy guy and that's what I do. Someone once thought I was the bad guy. I could see it in their eyes. That probably hurt me more than anything ever has. It still does. It probably always will...unless I forget that too. I never forget a face. I'm curious. Confused. Can't figure out what's going on. I can't explain it any other way. I'm like the kid standing outside the refrigerator who has to keep opening the god damn door...I'm obsessed with what happens when the lights go out. If you don't understand it, too bad. If you don't like it...fuck you...and the horse you rode in on.
Entry posted by King Zero note [Add] www E-Mail this entry

What's Stopping Us? 11:46 AM

You see things; and you say, 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say, "Why not?" - George Bernard Shaw I can't pinpoint when these dreams started, but I can tell you when they changed, when I realized what was happening. Last night the mottled dreams from off the beaten path were stronger then usual, but perhaps not more interesting. It started in a twisted version of my old apartment at the Birchwoods. There was an extra room in this dream, a dining room off the kitchen. Four of us sat there around a wooden table and a short Italian man puttered around the kitchen playing with mixing bowls and sacks of fresh vegetables. When he wobbled over to our table he started to list these fantastic dishes he could make for us, but the other three people with me only wanted pizza. I remember being vaguely disappointed. Then I was in New York City with a group of people who I mostly didn't know and in between coffee and cigarettes there was a midget pointing at the sky and chanting, "Zee plane! Zee plane!" Have you ever seen Scarface? I dreamed of the chainsaw scene. And then I dreamed of that final scene in Seabiscuit. No, I can't explain it either. Then I was wandering around the campus of a college I've never been to. But in the dream I remembered that I've dreamed of that place before. When I thought about it in the wee hours of this morning I realized that the campus was exactly how it was in my other dreams. Apparently my mind has created this place...and doesn't like for it to be fucked with. Then there were four people riding with me in the car. For some reason one of the four hopped out. Two of the others began talking about her. The fourth didn't, but didn't seem bothered by it. It bothered me and I railed against the offending pair. I couldn't tell if the fourth agreed with me or not, but it didn't matter because the girl who had gotten out of the car got back in and everyone got real quiet. Then we were in a college apartment, not mine, and not one I've ever been in. There were only two or three of us until this girl comes in with a much older guy, a much older homeless looking guy. For some reason I thought the apartment was mine and I wasn't expecting her to be bringing someone else over. Particularly this strange old guy. I felt offended for some reason, and slightly angry. I can't think of why seeing her with another guy made me angry, until I realized this wasn't just some girl who was a figment of my imagination, this girl looked just like the angel in dreams I've had before. Now I was furious. She was flirting and giggling with this old guy in my house and no one else seemed bothered by it. I snapped and stomped out of the room. I saw things. I saw things during this dream I will never forget. Then I stood outside in the stairwell, and she followed me. And said, "You had to see this coming." And of course I didn't. I hadn't seen any of it coming...and then it all got stranger. I was in the yard down in Paterson, except everything was in reverse. There was this gang of people I knew with me, except none of them were exactly who they were in real life. There were people shooting, people throwing things. It was the middle of the night, but it was loud and things kept blowing up. We were frantically trying to get people inside the gate before the cops or bad guys could get to us because apparently they were all chasing us. I ended up hording everyone in and just getting the gate locked before things started crashing into it. Everyone had weapons but us, so we just kept lighting things on fire and throwing them over the fence. The angel was there, but so were my friends, and their friends, and tons of people I didn't know. And we were all just hoping the gate would hold up. The final dream was simple. I was sitting on a lawn outback of some apartment buildings. I was sitting in a very comfortable chair as the sun beat down on me and there was a small copper fountain trickling water next to me. As I sat there the fountain suddenly went rubbery and drooped over. I fixed it...and again it fell over. On this perfectly beautiful dream afternoon I decided to just let it droop. Then I woke up. Nothing fancy this morning. Just an answer to a question. Nothing.
Entry posted by King Zero note [Add] www E-Mail this entry

Friday, August 06th 2004

Even Al-Qaeda Can't Stop Me! 1:05 AM
"There's 'something' in a mail truck." That's the call I get this morning from my office. There's "something" in the back of a mail truck and they think it's a bomb. Which means every local cop, sheriff's officers, the freeholders emergency response unit, fire departments from three towns, and the only local bombs squad...along with several unmarked cars which suspiciously reaked of federal agents camped outside my front door for the better part of the morning. Roads closed off all over the place, I manage to get my car closer to my office then I probably should have, but I eventually have to park and hoof it in the remainder of the distance. So here I come, the 6'3" 300 lb. monster carrying my big black briefcase and every cop within fifty feet steps towards me with their hands on their guns...I stopped walking real quick. First guy I come up to asks me where I'm going and I tell him that my office is the one with all the trucks in front of it and I want to know what's going on. He says they didn't tell him anything (liar) and that I probably shouldn't go down there. I tell him I got an office full of people down there and if it's safe enough for them, then it should be safe enough for me. I think right then it dawned on him that there were people in the buildings by the "bomb" and that one more isn't going to hurt anyone. His response, and I quote, "Well, yeah, there are some people walking around down there, so I guess it's safe." Turns out someone had thrown some white powder into the mail truck, and the mail carrier panicked and thought it was anthrax. Of course Hawthorne police aren't used to that sort of thing so everyone and their mother had to get involved. I'm in the office for about fifteen minutes before they decided the whole thing is nothing and everyone starts to clear out. And everyone out there pretends like nothing happened. Anthrax? No anthrax. Bomb? No bomb. Mail truck? No mail truck. Roadblock? Sorry can't help you. Emergency service? I didn't see any. So nothing happened apparently. No one was ever there, nothing went wrong. Nothing out of the ordinary. Of course no one could explain why I didn't get any mail today...
Entry posted by King Zero note [Add] www E-Mail this entry

Thursday, August 05th 2004

Screw Sleep 2:12 AM
Who needs it anyway? Not me I say. So on the drive back from AC tonight I was thinking about a lot of things. I was telling these guys about this script I'm working on (something I don't usually talk about) and it got me thinking more and more about a lot of the things going on in my life right now. Between the Work Bloggers and the people I know I can tell that, although basically content, a lot of people aren't happy with what they're doing. I could assemble a dream team of workers just out of the people I know. A group that, when it hits it's stride, would be one of the most formidable young entities the business world had ever faced. We could do anything...but of course we won't. It's not because we can't, but because people don't want to. They're afraid...and I guess if I had anything to lose, I would be to. But...I'm not.
Entry posted by King Zero note [Add] www E-Mail this entry

Friday Nights Are For Pizza And Poorly Placed Poetry

This is
something.
But not what you would think.
Would you...
think of me if I wasn't there?
worry about me when I wasn't safe?
wonder what happened to me when I was long gone?

This is
the nothing.
The beginning.
The end.
The part of the middle where we both know that it's not going as we wanted it to, but at least one of us thinks we may still have a chance.
This is never.

This is the part where I say to you, "Eat shit and die."
But...
I don't really mean it because if you did, then who would I have to talk to?
Silence can be lonely.

God is the one with the big stick telling me that I need to walk quietly or some other kind of shit.

And you keep screaming.
I scream back.
But maybe you can't hear me?
What?
Why?
Don't you know I'm answering you?


Answer me.

Tonight

Smoke 'em if you got 'em kiddies, because Palomba's got his "A" game on and we're going to war...

Tonight. Tomorrow. Never.

There is no light. We run on.

http://www.nj.com/wrsu

Here He Comes To Save The Day...

Sing it with me now...

Mis-ter Trou-ble ne-ver hangs a-round
When he hears this Mi-ghty sound
Here I come to SAVE THE DAY
That means that Mighty Mouse is on his way
Yes-sir when there is wrong to right
Mi-ghty Mouse will join the fight
On the sea or on the land
he's got the sit-u-a-tion well in hand.

What? Not singing? Wankers...

So now that you know where I weigh in on that one I have the sneaking suspicion that we're about to go retro-Palomba on this place. Not really sure how or why, but am I ever wrong?

Anyway...tonight at 9:00 P.M. EST yours truly will be live once again on 88.7 WRSU FM- New Brunswick you can listen in at http://www.nj.com/wrsu.

Saturday, July 31st 2004
Paranoid About Being A God 11:59 PM
I was sitting in my office at seven o'clock tonight eating a cream cheese bagel and sipping at a bottle of orange drink when an idea hit me. A story flooded through my brain in a matter of minutes and for some reason it all seemed like it would work. It took me a second to remember where the story came from, it was one of my earliest attempts at a script. I called it Paranoid About Being A God.

I've probably thought of a thousands script ideas. Probably started to write a few hundred of them. A few dozen I get through the outline, or turn them into short stories, a few dozen more I've filed under "I'll get back to them later." By and large though they get lost under the heading "A good idea at the time". There are only five or so I've actually taken seriously.

The first story was about a group of thirty year old former friends who get back together to avenge the death of a childhood friend. It was an action flick wannabe I called The Big Fuck You (after the Primer 55 song). Funny thing is when I was writing it my senior year of high school I picked out actors in my head, the guy I would have picked as the main character was a bit actor in Saving Private Ryan...named Vin Diesel. My stupid idea couldn't possibly be worse than some of the movies he's made since then.

The second was a story about a late twenties something man who watched his life slowly fall apart and became plagued by thoughts of madness and suicide. It was me taking The Darkness and turning it into a story with consequences, instead of it just being what it is. I never finished that one although I worked on it for three months and had some pretty quality pages when I was done. I called it "S-U-I...Suicide."

The next one was Paranoid About Being A God. I had this one all worked out, multiple plot lines, in-depth characters, a series of witty references. I was ripping off 15 pages a day and within a week I had topped the hundred page mark...problem was I had only told half the story I wanted to tell. Back to the drawing board, which is of course where the story got left never to be touched again.

Epic was a story about a reporter in search of a reclusive film director. I wrote it for my first screenwriting class. I had about fifty pages done before the class ended, and I decided I needed time to rethink my story idea. That summer I read "Book of Illusions" by Paul Auster and decided that his take on the idea was much better than mine. My original script for Epic was lost to a computer crash, so I decided to forget about it.

The Brilliant Barbarians was next, and until tonight it was the only story still alive. It's about seven reclusive older men who help a ten year old boy save England from the Nazi's during World War II. It's a fantasy/adventure set in the reality of a modern war. I have 75 pages of outline and a rough draft of a 120 page script. But I have always thought it would make a better mini-series, which would allow me to stretch the script over several hundred pages. I lost a rewrite to a back-up disk failure, but still have the original hidden somewhere.

After the Barbarians came "In A Place Where Moonlight Freezes" about an English journalist in Russia at the end of the Cold War, "Maya" about a novelist who buys an island and falls in love with a 14 year old girl who lives there. "Rigby's Folly" about a college student who unintentionally captivates an entire university only for them to find out that he's not really who he seems to be. All three of those ideas had pretty significant weight behind them, but I got bored writing them...which means most people would get bored reading them.

So tonight when I got a flashback of the entire script of Paranoid About Being A God I knew I had to sit down and rewrite the whole damn thing. Which is what I plan on doing between work and getting my new apartment set up. Which means that everything here may take a turn for something else, I'm not quite sure how that all works yet.

By the way, how pathetic is it that I'm here writing this at midnight on a Saturday? Shouldn't a nice guy like me have somewhere better to be? No, I guess not. Too bad.

Entry posted by King Zero note [Add] www E-Mail this entry

Those People That Come And Go: A Rigby Entry 12:52 PM

King's Note: Holy shit Rigby is long winded. He wrote this at like three in the morning when we moved out of the Woods. I let it sit for a day so the putz could think about it.
----

King's in the back sleeping one off, so this one falls to me. I met a lot of good people in the past five years, and as that all comes to an end I just wanted to talk a little about them in a way King is normally afraid to. I know, it's funny trying to picture him being afraid of anything, but I suppose I know him a little better than you do.

My little caveat on this entry, it's long and the people I talk about aren't necessarily people I know. I use first names because I might not remember their last names, and because the truth is I didn't know any of them very well at all. So here goes nothing, or everything. Here goes that monster who haunts you dreams.

YEAR ONE

At Marist there were the people I would see around, but didn't really know. There was of course Braden, my roommate. There were a half dozen Mikes (aren't there always?) There were the two Mikes I did my sports talk show with (and the one I did my regular show with.) There was Mike from downstairs who was a little strange but was pretty good at Soul Calibur. There was Mike who was Braden's friend from down the hall. And there was Mike whose cousin I knew from back home, it's a small world afterall. There was the old quarterback whose name was also Chris and whose girlfriends would get confused and wander into my room in the middle of the night until we decided it would be mutually beneficial to just take down the signs with our names on them (although I'm still not sure which part of that deal benefited me). There were two Scott's. The first was Red who, after five years, is still one of the best co-hosts I've ever had and then Scott from Jersey who knew Nate's roommate Justin down at Rutgers. The first party I went to at Rutgers, the first person I saw was Scott. The world get's smaller once again. There were Braden's friends (all of whom in my memory were named Mary) and the dueling homeboys from across the hall, Kyle and Jay. They'd each blast rap music loud as hell, at the same time, which wouldn't bother me except they would find the two most different sounding songs possible. I think their friend's name was Charles. Then there was Jay's roommate J, whose real name was John. There was this guy Frank down the hall who was into tech stuff as I recall, and Josh down the other end who played football and sometimes stopped by for a game of NFL2k. There was a guy they called Hardcore, whose real name I think was Greg, and for some reason I want to say the nickname had something to do with grilled cheese sandwiches. I think our RA's name was Justin. There were the girls up on the sixth floor (one of whom was gorgeous, I think her name was Jenn but I don't know for sure). There was this girl Carla who I didn't know and never talked to, but was the subject of many stories throughout the dorm. There was this girl Mitzy who I think ran the RHA and I only remember because she reminded me of someone, but the funny thing is my first month at Rutgers I'm walking down the street and who do I see but her. Apparently she transferred at the same time did. She didn't recognize me (of course why should she?) but like I always say, I never forget a face.

YEAR TWO

This is the year where I met Jeremy and his friends. Shannon, Rich, Simone, Harry and a host of other people who drifted in and out of the house on Richardson St. doing things I would never think of doing. I hardly remember those guys, I know they don't remember me. Outside of those guys who were friends of the people I lived with year two was a slow year. There was my time at The Core with a host of people whose names I don't remember, but whose faces I will never forget. When I started out there I did a four in the morning show and one night some strange middle aged guy was standing outside screaming and banging on the window. I remember making a joke about it on the air, and this guy Ross who did production stuff called in, and I could tell he thought I was fucking around. I made a mention of it on the listserve and caught some ridicule for that too, as if I had done something wrong. Year two I didn't really meet anyone worth talking about.

YEAR THREE

This is when I really got to know Matt T. and Crago. Both real good guys. I also began to get to know the Cinema Studies cliques. I was never part of any of these groups but I knew who all the people were, had those set ways of telling them apart, began to be familiar with them really. I know some of them must remember me, but I wonder who and how many? Rutgers Cinema Studies minors are at both and advantage and disadvantage at the same time. It's not a huge program, so no one takes it seriously. But it's not a huge program so the people in it don't take themselves too seriously and that of course is the major downfall of any film fan.

YEAR FOUR

After bouncing through year three becoming familiar with some people I wasn't familiar with before I entered my fourth year of college, the year in which I began to come into my own. Year four was the Guilden Street year. I was living with Nate, Forti, Sean, Matt T., Crago and Tim G. I can't even begin to list the people that came in and out of that house over the course of the year, I will of course mention that we had an extra roommate in Parker for a few months while he crashed on our couch. We had some good times in that damn house. Year four also finished my association with the traditional cinema studies cliques. Many of them had graduated at the end of year three and others were about to graduate, I was pretty much done with my minor and was taking more screenwriting classes then cinema classes. Fall of year four I took the greatest class I've ever been in: Creative Writing with Professor Satran. There was just this unbelievable mix of great writers and great people in the class. I can name every one of them here, and I can remember all of their faces, but I can't always match up the faces with the names. There was Lauren, Juliet, Katie (were there two Katies?), Karen, Matt, Ben, Chris, Jared, Randall, Justin, Melissa, Brian (I think there were two of those as well), Eric... and the list goes on. I bet you no one else could even name all those names off the top of their heads. I also got to meet the screenwriting people who I will talk about more in a moment. I also got to know the journalism people, particularly in the second half of the year. That's when I met Matt, Tiffany, Anna, Jay, Tim and a host of other people that would come and go through classes and graduations. End of year four I joined up with WRSU where I got to work with Matt and Naphas, and began to talk to Clopp about his idea for something he was calling the Screenwriter's Community.

YEAR FIVE

Oh boy, here we go. So this was it. The last year. We had such high hopes. I think it worked out well. Year five was the year of the Birchwoods with Forti, Crago, and Todd G. I ran into Clopp the first day of classes and that pretty muched cinched my affiliation with SCRU. Matt had been working his ass off to get WRSU news back in gear and sure enough it worked out. The core group of Rob (who lived right by a place I used to drive trucks for), Corey, Julie (whose roommate Michelle was my high school homeroom teacher's daughter), Katie, Jason (who originally went to college about two minutes from my house), Andrea, Flora, Laura, Tamara, Mark, and John turned out to be better than I could ever have imagined. Add to that the team members that came and went and we had one hell of a group. I think working with those two groups (particularly WRSU) saved me more than a few times in year five. I also got to work closer with the journalism groups. Fall semester it was Tiffany, Anna, Tim and Polya. Spring semester it was Tiffany, Dana, and Ginger. There were other groups and other things as well. Tons of things. I remember sitting with...

---

King's Note: This is where I cut him off. Year five was as long as the whole damn entry. I mean, I understand, I felt the same way about all those people, but I didn't like the rest of what he wrote, so you don't get to read it. Maybe someday you will. I'm sure he'll keep nagging me till you do.

Entry posted by rigby Zero note [Add] www E-Mail this entry