leavingla-blog1

[leavingla-blog1]

fuck everything about this.

about this job that i’m not good at.

because it’s not me.

because my boss is an asshole.

because this industry is evil.

[leavingla-blog1]

i wanna be free

i wanna be free

and not in the way that 

you’re all telling me to be.

i wanna get new

i wanna get new

i don’t need your old car

i don’t need new shoes.

i wanna die me

i wanna die me

i’m sick of people killing

with their love-waxed greed.

i wanna fuck off

i wanna fuck off

quit telling me

stuff you should say to yourself.

[leavingla-blog1]

Matt said I’d wake up to rain.

I thought I did. But it was actually my fan, which emulated the patter of droplets.

Looking out the orange/purple window, I see it is raining. But silent.

[leavingla-blog1]

Some background.

Last Friday, as has become typical, I got into my car and screamed. I punched my car’s radio console thing until it cracked a little. I wanted to fucking die. Which is what I told my mom on the phone when I called her later. She asked what I really wanted to do with my life (like I’ve been holding back some secret, super passionate focus) and I said I wanted to die.

Well, you can’t die, she said.

My boss is an asshole, and the work he does is shady. But not typical Hollywood/industry shady, where at least something is being created or some attempt at art is tangible. His business is fucking over inexperienced directors with terrible movies by devising contracts that get our company a lot of money. We then speak to international buyers about these bad movies and convince them they are okay, and then we fuck them over with a contract as well. 

When I started working for him, they framed the company as a sort of helper worker bee type. As if they go to “little movies that could” and help them get better distribution. 

Anyway, I guess I’ve known this for a few months. Amidst that and several homophobic/racist/sexist remarks by boss and his brother have made, I’ve wanted to leave for a while. The company. And Los Angeles.

I’ve made some great art and some amazing friends while here, but the general pace of the city and the dirtiness of it all and the fakeness of it all (every cliché Los Angeles thing) has gotten to me lately. True, it’s not all there is to this city. You can focus on the great stuff and just stay submerged in that. Unfortunately, I’ve found that harder and harder to do lately. The comedy community, the actors I meet, the producers/agents/directors etc. have all gotten to me. I want to make movies and write movies and songs and act and produce just like everyone else. 

But I haven’t been making any time to be a person. I’ve got some serious anxiety/depression/drinking issues to deal with, on top of a stomach problem that seems as enigmatic as Kurt Cobain’s.

At least I’m not doing heroin.

Point is, as of two days ago when I was blowing out my vocal cords in my Honda, here is my plan for the next few months of my life:

1. Stick my job out through this one-week trip to Berlin (which is in about a month).

2. Take a break from drinking and marijuana and cigarettes. 

3. Quit my job. 

3. Go to Albuquerque, New Mexico and live with my parents for a few months.

4. Either stay there or come back to LA.