Cowards die many deaths. The brave only one.

I love that. I wish I could take credit as the author but I can't. However, to me that seems appropriate in a way for what we're trying to accomplish here. You can't wait for what you want to come to you, you gotta go out, slay it and drag it back home by the balls. It's a gamble and you ain't gonna win unless you try. In case I've lost you, I'll elaborate. I want to be a filmmaker and since nobody's come knocking on my door begging me to make a movie, I'll just have to do it myfuckingself. Fortunately, I found a couple of guys to share the journey with. Cause that's what this is, a journey. So far we've only taken the first few steps and no matter what the destination may be, it's going to a be a fucking ball all the way.
We've been writing at Kevin's new digs with Aaron manning the keyboard, battling his comma addiction with the punctuation-nazi (the aforementioned Kevin) breathing down his neck at every sentence. It seems like every session becomes more fun than the last and the ideas haven't dried up. See, I think that's one thing we all have in common: Mythological imaginations on overdrive. I don't think that's something you can develop. You're born with it. It whispers in your ear all day long, follows you home from work or school like a lost puppy and tucks you in at night.
For me, the script writing process has been a learning experience: Churning out ideas while fighting off Kevin's psychotic kitten. This is the first time I've bled for my art.
Hoodoo Voodoo is my first real foray into film but I've been writing for what feels like forever. To me, turning words into on-screen visuals is the next logical step in creativity. But I still have my own writing that I try to make time for so I can let some of that imagination out before it consumes me like a supernova. I think I'm old fashioned, though, in that I prefer pen and paper to a keyboard and computer screen. All I need is a stack of loose leaf and some ink and I've got a smile on my face. It can be hard trying to cram a monitor into my backpack. I've always considered my writing to be little bits of insanity and I think that's why when Aaron and Kevin introduced me to the idea of Hoodoo Voodoo there was no way I could turn 'em down.
H.V. is coming along and I think now we've introduced all the players in this crazy game so we can focus on the fun stuff: THE VIOLENCE. I get excited just thinking about it. See, anybody can dream up an action sequence or a gruesome death. But it's gotta have heart and it's gotta have poetry. You can blow somebody up and that 's fine but blowing somebody up so their entrails end up on a tree branch and their liver lands in the neighbour's kid's dinner plate is better. And I think that's what I do. I bring the fucking dinner plates.
Tomorrow night we're going to be at it again, taking up our usual positions in Kevin's living room. I'll take my place on the couch in the corner. Kevin has his throne and Aaron's armed with the keyboard and all of us will be keeping one eye open for when the kitten strikes. It's not a job, it's a fucking adventure.
Nemo malus felix, bitches!!!!!!