A Journal Entry of Mine About Spill (pretty long)

So...I wrote this while waiting for things to get going on my usual gig as a woodsman, in a soppy tent, way before I had an encounter with one of the Crew and embarassed myself in such a drunken mess that I don't know if I'd be welcome at any of their parties....ahhh, but sometimes that's how the space-cake crumbles. So, without further Ado, my un-edited journal entry. (it's not particularly good in any way, I just share it so it won't dust over without even a chance of someone looking it over)
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"Born Spilly" 22 August, 2009
Early Afternoon

At least I have the drugs. The meds, the painkillers, the miracles!, and they still work OK. I wish they'd have thrown me something serious, some kind of pure opiate I could take without fear and just
be done with tooth pain.

So here I am, alone in the forest, clutching my jaw and moaning, and thinking about the Spill party out there Austin-way. I don't feel like I'm missing it, but I would have gone if I could, mostly to meet the Spillios. If I like Spill, the other people who like it must be cool. At least almost as cool as I.

Damn, my teeth hurt. I went to see Dr. Firenerve yesterday and he told me some pretty bad news.
1500, more or less. O, yeah, it's big trouble, it's a fricking revolt involving seven teeth and the lower jaw. Hellish.

So, wonder am I missing the live "Let's Do This!!"? Man, I would have gone to that and asked my
question.

I.Koval: Mr. Coleman, Mr. 3000, you have continually falsely misrepresented this podcast as being
a great drinkfest, yet is painfully obvious, sirs, that you are not so drunk. Have you
nothing to say?

K.C: What?! You--

3000: Oh, man--

I.Koval: Have you no sense of decency, Sirs? Have you left no sense of decency?!

With enough hydrocodone in the veins a few sips of beer does make you drunk. It's true, but you should never, ever, ever try it, especially when you're alone in Bear Woods with no car, no way home. Wow, now that I have this sleepy buzz goin'...I wonder about the Spilladelphia girls. Spillettes must be cute, the odds favour it. Jagged little Spills.

Out here in the nowhere I miss Spill more than porn. No joke. I'm new to the thrill of Spill, though, that may have something to do with it, still novel. I find those podcasts are the absolute best sleeping-aids I've come across (aside from vodka and reefer). Seriously, hours of people just talking, talking...now, don't try to misunderstand me, I'm not saying anything I'm not saying, I'm just saying. Works for me.

Dammit, my teeth. I would have loved to have got right dirty drunk with the Spilliacs. You know one problem Spillster strangers would never have? Never be stuck with nothing to talk about. Movies! How convenient; I think even drunk as a Champ I could gurgle something about motion pictures. Comics.

One of those girls on the podcasts sounds like a party girl. Forget her name, but she always starts out properly: "When I was on (insert cool substance), we---"

Whoa. Just woke up from a little Vico-nap. I'm in serious trouble here. If these antibiotics don't start making some progress I'll have to take drastic measures, emergency tooth extraction type of thing. Comes a point when the meds themselves can be bad for you. Aaaaah, but that is so boring, innit?

Well, if memory serves me right, it's just about Live League time. I would have gone to that, too. Great lullaby podcasts. I wonder about that Leon. The other Crew-members sure like to talk about him, and all the stories come out of vastly different fields, and then to hear him you hear the never mentioned Average Comic-book Geek. I'm really not calling him a 'geek' even though it may seem that way. As the movie reviews go, I agree with Leon more than the rest of 'em by a long shot.

By the by, I don't think this little journal entry is particularly good or interesting. I know it's as scatterbrained as my anaestetised skull, but I'm going to write it and share it all the same for selfish reason; it's helping me keep my mind off my screaming teeth. Somewhat, you know.

You know what I like about Leon? He makes me feel not-so-old, bless 'em. For a little while there I thought I was the Dinosaur, but he knows shows before my time. Cyrus, too, I think. So there they are, as I write and suffer, living a few hours as local celebrities the League, the whole Crew, and good on them. Like I say, I'd have gone if I could have. Question for the League!

I.Koval: Hello everyone, I.Koval, long live the league.

Cyrus: Thanks. Have you got a question?

I.Koval: Yeah, umm.....are you guys hiring? I need a job.

LEOG: (collective laughter)

I.Koval: C'maaaaaaan. You know you need someone to run your Twitter page. C'maaaaaaan.....

Take care of your teeth, dear Spillniks, visit the dentist, brush, floss, mouthwash, do whatever it takes because if not it will catch up to you and it will be great suffering. Don't let your teeth go bad, don't do it.

Man, if only my luck, my stars, my Fate had been a little different I'd be goofing around in Austin with the Spillaholics, with the Austin girls, and the Texas beer. Maybe next year.

I wish the Spill crew would review classic movies, too, not just new releases. I don't mean just 'old' movies, but real classics. The pre-CGI stuff. Jeez, do you have a minute? I'd like to get something off my teeth. Chest! Something off my chest, I mean, but I'm sure you've heard this one.

I hate CGI movies. Movies, I say, that is: movies where the computer special FX are the whole point of the movie. "Oh, it's great CG!" "Awesome explosions!" Please. What are we, in second grade getting excited about those little snap fireworks you throw at each other? Heck, I'd rather see a movie about that! You ask me, CG should be like good film editing, or a well-performed accent. Invisible, un-noticed. I'd rather watch Christopher Reeve on wires than an imaginary Robert Downey Jr. in an imaginary suit flying across imaginary sky. The turning point, the moment of clarity for me was the Phantom Menace. Jedi doing ballet while CG robots flew apart. It was garbage, and I don't like it, won't buy it anymore.

Allright, enough complaining. Right about now they're all moseying (not mozy-ing) over to the bar to loosen up and shoot the breeze. No doubt Carlyle is scoping the scene, deciding which table he'll be dancing on after his sixteenth whiskey ' n ' water. Cyrus is printing fake acid blotters on his top-notch printer. Leon is probably already mentioning the strip club, and Korey is shadowing him....he's going, too. Ha! Isn't that a laugh, after a few months checking the Spill I can totally envision the cartoon guys moping (not mopping) around some weird bar. Even worse, I can picture myself out there with 'em, a trembly-lined cartoon version of myself, only thinner with outrageous abdominal muscles.

I'm going to use my psychic powers now --- right around 8pm on the Saturday night of the Spill party --- to help somebody hook up. I don't mean just a lay or something, no, this focused astral projection is for someone to fall in love. Two strangers, one much lonelier than the other. O, my mistake, it isn't 8 yet, it's only 7:30. Did it work?

I know what I'd be as a Spill crew cartoon. You know those tacky clacking teeth that people sometimes use for pranks and such? That would be me, only rotten, cavity-filled, abscessed black and broken teeth. All the molars would be missing except two charcoaled and cracked wisdom teeth. Oh, man, how did I get back to teeth? Fuy.

My mind is not working at all anymore. Way too much hydrocodone, and I hate hydrocodone. I do! It gets in the way of my drinking. Took all my drinking money right out of my pocket.

Now a little something about literature and film, and the strange cousinesque relation they have together. Many of my favourite films are adaptations of literature, and quite often literature makes me think of what a great film it might make. I have converted a few stories to screenplays myself.

Yet, undoubtedly, this is all very tricky business. Countless times this has gone horribly wrong or disappointed enthusiasts of the original writing. I have mixed emotions regarding such transpositions, but I can say this for sure: when the original work is drastically altered, it should be re-named, perhaps affixed with: "inspired by the story by ________". Dontcha think?

Whoa. I just heard a really weird sound out there in the forest. I couldn't even guess if it was a bird or a landcrawling beast. I have no freaking idea. Thank God for the Winchester Company.

So...you know first of all, if you have a book and it is made into a film that portions will be omitted, that a film could never be fully comprehensive of the novel. Fair enough. What irks me is the sort of accepted notion that a film will not be as good as the book or story.


23 August, Sunday
@4:30 AM

This tooth crap has kept me up all night long. I can't tell if the antibiotics are working or not...every four hours or so the painkillers wear off and I find out. That bores you though, dunnit?

So, 4:30 and I wonder what the Spillunkers are doing out there. I know what I'd be doing----drinking!, still up from last night. Dunno if I'd have made it to the strip club, but I know I'd be in some room or another, or in a yard, talking absolute rot with whoever else could hold so much liquor. I don't think I'd have scared anyone yet, not quite yet.

9:30 AM

They must be gathering by the river by now....or lake, springs, wot'evah. If someone was going I'd go, me and [unreadable], hells yeah! Whoa, so much medicine my eyes barely work!

@8PM

So everything must be winding down over there (clap-clap-clap-clap) deep in the heart of Texas. I wish I could say the same here in the forest, that my troubles are winding down, but they don't feel that way. I almost think I'm getting worse, feverish.

At least I don't feel like I'm missing out on a party anymore. More I think about it, more I wish I could have gone...maybe I could have cast someone for my upcoming project.....or maybe I just would have ended up in a cast, hah!

Getting dark now, can't see my notepad.