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2 years ago (9/09/10)
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Comedy Feature FilmHey everybodys,
For those of you who don't know, I've been working the past couple years on an exciting, experimental comedy called The Exquisite Corpse Project. We've recently finished up the film festival circuit and have just put the film online for everyone to see!
http://splitsider.com/projects/exquisite-corpse/
If you're interested in checking it out, or just hearing more about the film's premise, check it out! If you love quality comedy, which I have a feeling that some of you might, you're gonna love this film. If you don't love comedy.... well, the lead actress is smokin' hot. So maybe that'll do it for you.
-Marshall
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A Chilling TaleI think that it is of importance to note that I am writing the following while I am being held against my will inside a high school gymnasium guarded by a dozen State Penitentiary inmates in small town west Texas. You know, nothing too out of the ordinary.
Yesterday, I embarked upon a journey of epic proportion. I set out to drive from Austin, Texas to Los Angeles, California. Despite measuring over fourteen hundred miles, the trek should have been a fairly simple one. I would be driving through plains and deserts, nothing life threatening (it's not summer in Death Valley) or particularly treacherous.
Though I had no Californian deadline to make, an incredibly beautiful and exciting woman whom I had met months prior currently lives in El Paso, just about halfway to my final destination. Naturally, I asked her to go on a date with me the night that I would be driving through. Before I left, I ironed a nice shirt and hung it up in my car. As I began driving down the interstate, I practiced charming lines and debonair stares in my rear view mirror for what seemed like hours. Knowing my history, I needed all the practice I could get.
But then something happened that would ultimately kill any hopes of impressing this Mexican beauty who I had set out to see. It began snowing in Texas. At first, it was beautiful and allowed for a pleasant drive as I passed Big Bend State Park. The way the white topped the small hills and cactus: it was all very calming. In fact, it was very calming up until the moment when I was forced to drive 25 mph on the highway and allow 50 yards between me and the nearest car so that I would have time to brake if needed. Yes, it was simply serene until I passed three different semi trucks that I had been rolled on their side, until I passed the SUV laying upside-down on its hood.
It was there, 100 miles outside of El Paso, that I had a decision to make. I had driven for eight hours in hopes of showing this woman that I was thoughtful and romantic. If I stand her up, she will most likely never talk to me again, writing me off as some type of noncommittal ninny. My one chance at leaving a lasting impression was being stolen by Mother Nature herself.
I had all but decided to press on for another two hours when my windshield wipers decided to start spreading the snow evenly over the windshield instead of wiping it away, like buttering toast with unmeltable I-can't-believe-it's-not-butter. I rolled down my driver's window and pressed on with my head sticking out. After ten minutes of the snow stinging my eyes like thousands of microscopic daggers, I eventually conceded and pulled over at the next exit.... 20 miles away.
At the gas station of this two-star town, I asked if there were any bars, coffee shops, or restaurants. The attendant laughed at me. I assumed that was country bumpkin for no. As I sat at the gas station eating my disgusting Subway sandwich, the country sheriff entered the establishment.
Attention everyone, he said to me, We will be shutting down Interstate 10 throughout the country. This is the third-largest county in Texas. Its diameter spans over 150 miles and we are smack dab in the center. We are opening up the high school gymnasium and will provide coffee and cots. Until then, ariva durchee.
Ariba derchi? Okay, free coffee and a faux bed, that sounds pretty good to me at this point.
I arrived at the gymnasium only to be greeted by over a hundred strangers, mostly truckers, who were there for the night. I looked around for the coffee and cots but they were no where to be found. I pulled out my phone to let the woman of my dreams know that I would have to cancel, but the town doesn't get reception. I was standing her up, cold. In fact, everything about this situation was very cold. The heater in the gym wasn't working.
As I sat on the bleachers shivering and contemplating where my life went wrong, five burly men wearing old-timey black and white striped prisoner garb entered the gym.
*At this point I think that it's important to note that I sometimes stretch the truth while writing these stories, but that, somehow, this inmate bit is 100% factual*
They stand there for a few seconds, look around, and then leave. This town is only five miles from Mexico and my first thought is that these men have escaped Mexican prison and are looking for safety (who wouldn't after escaping prison in Mexico?). Maybe they were being shipped like cattle aboard one of the 18-wheelers that had flipped on the icy road. The possibilities flooded my mind as they reentered, carrying cots and a cooler full of coffee.
The gruff inmates continued to bring in supplies for everyone who was stranded in the gymnasium. It appears that they were working with the Red Cross to earn good behavior points. As the night grew darker, people began falling asleep as the prisoners kept guard at all the entrances. I'm scared for my life. I have no idea how this all happened. All I know is that I am out a date but have a great start to a horror script on my hands: a tradeoff that I'm almost okay with.
Follow me on Twitter to hear more stories of how my life is a disaster
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The Jazz FestivalEvery so often in a man's life, he experiences an unfortunate occurrence, a faux pas of grandeur, that causes him to stick his foot so far into his mouth that it, forever more, would be difficult to tell where one appendage ends and another begins. That very instance unfolded in my life this past weekend at a local Jazz festival.
As soon as I learned of the festival, I was excited to attend. I frequented the website every afternoon for a week, listening to the various artists and arranging my schedule according to my likings. The festival was three days long and I vowed to be the first to arrive and last to leave.
A problem, however, presented itself when the times of each set were listed without an a.m. or p.m. designation. Obviously, anything between one and eight were assumed to be afternoon performances, but a few of the times listed between nine and eleven were fairly ambiguous. I didn't think much of it and decided that I'd just wander to the next venue if no one was performing.
So, a little before lunch on Saturday, I ventured to a nearby cathedral where one of the performances was scheduled to take place. The building was a beautiful Gothic behemoth adorned with flying buttresses, stained glass, candles, and flowers. It would be an interesting venue in which to hear some Coltrane, I decided.
As I entered the building, I walked past a woman who was sitting on the steps outside, mascara running down the grave look on her face. She was on her phone and I assumed that she was in the process of having her heart broken. I gave her a friendly smile as I heard music emanating from inside. I knew I was in the right place.
The beautifully ornate structure was barely filled, with only a few dozen people sitting near the solo cellist performing near the alter. I decided to sit in the back row so as not to disturb anyone near the front because the music was very quiet and sad. It actually sounded much more like a classical piece than a jazz piece, but I figured that the morning might not lend itself so easily to improvisational jazz.
Now, I'm not incredibly plugged into the jazz scene. I don't know much about jazz musicians or people who would attend a jazz festival, but I was surprised as to how seriously these people take their music. Everyone in the chapel was dressed in suits and ties; I felt a bit out of place, but the music was so beautiful that I had to stay. I was even pleasantly surprised to see a priest in attendance.
Like an angel who had lost her wings, that cellist played a beautifully somber ballad, nearly bringing tears to my eyes. She played with a level of unassuming skill and tact that I had never seen in a musician. Everything seemed to fade away as the music reverberated throughout the chapel.
As she played her final note, I was so moved that I rose to my feet, applauding with the same tenacity with which she had played. No one else seemed to be as impressed, but I continued to clap, nonetheless. This woman had to know that she had played the most tragically wonderful tune that had ever graced my ears. A standing ovation was in order.
As we locked eyes across the chapel, she seemed appalled at my appreciation. Some people just don't know how to take compliments. My applause slowly subsided as I realized that everyone in the building had turned around in their pew, glaring at me, staring into my very soul.
And then everything slowly started coming together. The woman crying outside. The somber classical music. The cathedral setting. The priest. The open casket. Gulp... the open casket?
This performance was not part of the jazz festival at all. The performance was part of a wake. The jazz performance was definitely at 11 p.m. and not 11 a.m.
Like Peter Griffin, I attempted to shrink as I slowly back-stepped out of the chapel as everyone watched in horrific disapproval.
My regards to the deceased.
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My Favorite Short Film of All TimeI just found out that the director of Cochran (my favorite short of all time) will be doing a live Q&A tonight on Ustream at 9:30PM EST. If you haven't seen the film, you should check it out. My Favorite Short Film of All TimeI just found out that the director of Cochran (my favorite short of all time) will be doing a live Q&A tonight on Ustream at 9:30PM EST. If you haven't seen the film, you should check it out.
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Awesome ArtistFor those of you who don't know, we've expanded our live-action team into a second building. This way, when Michael and Gavin break stuff, we no longer have to clean up their mess. Everyone wins! (except for Michael and Gavin)
So to decorate the new place, we've put up posters created by the one and only Mr. Harry Hayes-Holden. His designs are super impressive. Check out his site when you get a chance.
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Two Years in the Making...A couple summers ago I got the incredible opportunity to work on a feature film created by the geniuses behind Olde English Comedy. The film has been molded and reshaped for the past couple years and now they've finally finished it! It's an innovative blend of fiction, documentary, comedy, drama, horror, fantasy, and sci-fi. IT IS THE WEIRDEST, COOLEST, SEXIEST MOVIE YOU WILL EVER SEE! AND YOU WILL SEE IT! (or else) Check out the Official Trailer or the Facebook Page to check out this awesomely bizarre movie. Two Years in the Making...A couple summers ago I got the incredible opportunity to work on a feature film created by the geniuses behind Olde English Comedy. The film has been molded and reshaped for the past couple years and now they've finally finished it! It's an innovative blend of fiction, documentary, comedy, drama, horror, fantasy, and sci-fi. IT IS THE WEIRDEST, COOLEST, SEXIEST MOVIE YOU WILL EVER SEE! AND YOU WILL SEE IT! (or else) Check out the Official Trailer or the Facebook Page to check out this awesomely bizarre movie.
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Cultural Faux PasApparently you shouldn't ask an Aussie who he's rooting for. It doesn't mean "which team do you like?" It means "who are you banging?"
In unrelated news, Joel may or may not have a black eye.
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They have a casino in Melbourne......and I may have just wagered my return flight on a game of baccarat... Does anyone know how to play baccarat? Please tell me how to play baccarat in the next 20 seconds while I still haven't folded.... Can you fold in baccarat?
EDIT: well there goes my return flight. Does anyone own a ship that can sail around the world?
EDIT: They're taking me to the back room now. Apparently they don't allow laptops in casinos.
EDIT: They're beating me with cricket bats. I didn't even know they played cricket in Australia. Do they play cricket in Australia?
EDIT: I've escaped to some sort of air duct and now I'm at a turn. Should I go left, right, or turn around and shoot my way out?
EDIT: I went left and did a barrel roll and now I've ended up in some sort of restaurant that looks and feels like Burger King but, while there are burgers, I see no kings, only some guy named Hungry Jack.
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