I got knocked down by a cold a couple of days ago. The fact that I made it through work on Tuesday and the screenwriting class Tuesday afternoon only to tumble into the worst of it on my Liberty Wednesday was an insult. While I spent most of yesterday resting and watching stuff from the couch, I hauled myself up the freeway for dinner and a movie with a friend in LA – because damn it, it was Wednesday and I had been excited about going to LA. I even got 1,000 words written on a short story at a coffee lounge called 10 Forward. I had seen the sign before in Hollywood and wondered if it could actually be a Star Trek: The Next Generation reference. 10 Forward is very important in TNG, but it seemed so unlikely that Hollywood would grant a business license to something that was nerdy in a non-ironic way.
And the decor looks just like every goddamn indie coffee shop in LA, but one look at the menu, which features “Data’s Level 3 Diagnostic” (Flavored coffee with whipped cream) gave the secret away. Hurray for secret nerd-dom locations! I shall return.
The tricky thing is, in writing 1,000 words on the story, I realized that the story in full was going to need to be 2,000 words longer than my original estimate. So close, yet so far away.
Dinner was splendid, from what I could taste. The movie, The Artist, was so lovely; just about perfect, and exactly what I hoped it would be.
This little expedition took a lot out of me, though, because I slept poorly, coughed all night, and woke up feeling like I’d been put in a sack and beaten. And so I spent another day on the couch, being even less productive. I didn’t even go outside. Three movies today. Strange that the only time I watch movies at a volume that satisfies me is when I’m crippled or ill.
Awards season is in full swing, and I haven’t been to the movies this year as much as I’d like. I guess I was up to a few other things, wasn’t I? There’s probably two dozen movies I feel like I ought to see just to have a well-rounded exposure to what 2011 has had to offer. My viewing of them tends to run straight through to the Oscars at the end of February, so there’s time. Still, as I shuffle my Netflix queue, I realize that I have so MANY “to-do” lists when it comes to movie-viewing.
I just watched 127 Hours, which has been sitting in front of my TV for like six months. It was conspicuous because it was a Best Picture Oscar nominee last year, and I am compulsively-comprehensive about that. I’ve seen every Best Picture nominee for the last 20 years, the most recent I haven’t seen is Ghost – and I promise I’m getting around to it.
And I try to keep track of the IMDB’s user-voted top 250 all-time, which is constantly in-flux but throws up some eclectic suggestions. Then there’s the AFI’s top 100 lists in various genres – narrowly Hollywood-centric lists, but good for entertainment. And The Artist reminded me that there are so many silent and early-talkie era treasures that have become a particular love of mine.
I think I haven’t binged like this in awhile, and I have been missing it. But I have to get back to work tomorrow. Even if I can flip from Netflix on the Wii to playing New Super Mario Brothers with the touch of a button, too much time on this couch will make me nutzo. I need to produce. Create. Exercise. Move. Balance. Balance in all things.