wilderworks

It's wonderful to see how short the journey is from despair to hope. It can happen in a touch, in a word, in a glance. It's almost enough to make one forget how quickly the return trip could be made. Today I got to work late. Alli got a flat tire last week, and her car was in the shop today. She borrowed my car in the morning, to run a few errands, and then intended to take me to work. Of course, somewhere in Century City or Studio City or some other Well Outta Walking Range City -- she locked her keys in the car. I couldn't come and pick her up, because, after all, it was my car. Jared drove out to pick me up, and so, my work day was cut an hour short. Too much time when I look at my bank account, but too little time when I evaluate my mood just prior to that 7:00 PM whistle time. There are new floors at work. They're black tile and already scuffed. It all smells of adhesive and melted plastic. It's hideous and inorganic. And today was frigid and dam

Drastic reinvention is not necessary. That's throwing the baby out with the bath water, tearing down a house because the paint is faded, trashing a car because the windshield's smeared. My problem isn't that there's something wrong with my life. It's quite the opposite. I like my life, I like myself, and so, I'm ready for more. I'm ready to launch. Bring on the next phase. Open the doors and let the bull fight. I've come thousands of miles, have had more jobs in the last five years than most of my father's generation had through their entire lives, I've lived more places than my parents have lived, combined, and I dated more women in NYC than I knew throughout highschool and college. I'm a poor kid from a small town and I'm doing just fine in Los Angeles, even better than I did in Manhattan. Fuck yeah. That's a big deal. I am, for the first time, confident that I can handle whatever life throws me. So, I'm not goin

I have an addiction to thinking about people. Beautiful and bizarre, fascinating and unusual women -- they're particularly good subjects. It's no surprise. I am heterosexual and male. I once wrote about a dream I had. In the dream, there was an Orwellian "Empire" that hunted people by collecting details, collecting secrets, about them. If the Empire collected enough personal information about an individual, they could eliminate that person. Mothers bundled up their children and sent them out into the world, warning them to keep their secrets, warning them to keep their silence, because "agents of the Empire are everywhere." At the time I wrote it, I thought the dream was about how we'd closed ourselves off to one another, how, for fear of giving others a weapon to use against us, we'd constructed walls against affection, how tactics and weaponry became necessary, simply to break through the defenses of others. But recently, I increasingl

I find myself often wishing that people around me would get out of their own way, take down the defenses and allow themselves to be happy. And today I wonder where I'm standing in my own way. What defense, what fear, must I drop, to make the things I desire materialize. I need a psychiatrist to point it out, because there's no one left to see except me. I'm thinking of you/ And think you're/ Not thinking of me/

Thank you all for your support, your votes, and your continuing efforts to drum up votes and support for Misplaced Planet's little $300.00, New Jersey movie, Signal Decay , recently up for consideration on the Sci-Fi Channel / Sundance Channel Exposure Competition , missioned with discovering new filmmaking talent. Unfortunately, despite all your gracious help, we did NOT move forward to the next round. Instead, the prize went to another film. The winning nominee was produced in 2001, by an undiscovered professional television director, and prominently features a well-established entertainment personality, absolutely unknown for his starring rolls in small, unnoticed series like M*A*S*H ,as well as The Dead Zone , which aired on an unrelated, fly-by-night network called The Sci-Fi Channel. The judges of this competition should be very proud of their selection of nominees. One must admire their strict adherence to the noble goal of seeking out new talent. We can only hope that t

My little movie Signal Decay is amongst this week's finalists at the SciFi / Sundance Channel Exposure Competition, and YOUR VOTE decides if we move on! You can vote once on Sci-Fi, and EVERY DAY on Sundance. Please, check it out, vote for Signal Decay if you like Signal Decay the best, and also, tell every human you know to do the same. Family, co-workers, delivery people, numbers randomly selected from a phone book. This is a chance to make a big difference for me and my friends, and it doesn't cost a penny. I'll only be bugging you until FRIDAY NIGHT, when it will be TOO LATE. Go here and vote for SIGNAL DECAY! http://www.scifi.com/exposure http://www.sundancechannel.com/exposure

Here's another vote you should be getting on top of this election day -- if you vote for our movie in the Sundance Channel / Sci-Fi Channel Exposure Contest, you will go to Heaven when you die. Promise. And while you're alive -- it's better than having a sex. Which I very much enjoying having. (I have male.) Go here and vote for Signal Decay . It's a big deal! http://www.scifi.com/exposure And go here EVERDAY and vote for Signal Decay : http://www.sundancechannel.com/exposure THIS WILL ALL END ON FRIDAY!! PLEASE VOTE!! IT COULD MEAN A LOT FOR OUR FUTURE AS HUMAN BEINGS!! Also: Repost this message! Send it to friends and family! If you do, you will be kissed by the object you desire the most at some point in the future. If you do not, your favorite television show will go off the air (eventually). And then you'll be SKINNED ALIVE AND HUNG IN A CLOSET BY A MAN WITH A HOOK. Love, Wilder, Shaun, Benni, Alli, Stirling, Karl, Gabe, Amy, and all of Misplaced Planet from