Ginger Lynn

For those of you who are interested in such things, part one of my Corruption production diary went up on the movie page this morning. You can find that here.

Otherwise, it’s a tough-getting-started day. I very badly need to be working on editing Corruption. Instead I’m drifting in a bob’s-sake-it’s-hot-in-my-office kind of haze, looking for things to get distracted by. Like pointless MySpace ranting. Like how we’re going to pay the rent. Like the e-mail I just got from Ginger Lynn exhorting me to do terrible things to her (she and Kylie and I have been trying to schedule a date for about 87 years now, and one or the other of us always has to cancel… Soon, Ginger, I promise! I ain’t givin’ up!), which I very much want to do. Like watching my cat Basil being all sneaky-like stealing a cracker from my chili just so he can crunch it to pieces (he doesn’t eat it, just likes crumbling it up). Like looking at this incredibly filthy video my wacky friends in the Ukraine sent me.

Like doing anything but working.

Part of the problem is that I’m not a big fan of looking at myself onscreen, and there’s a whole lot of me in this movie (that alone might kill sales). Luckily, you never see me naked, at least not explicitly. But I’m not enjoying watching so much of me chewing the scenery.

Also, I’m cutting the beginning of the movie, and it’s tough. You have to have a structure in your head to edit correctly, an imaginary animatic, for those of you hip to the new Hollywood methods, and I’ve got too many running around. I have to settle into how I want the movie to start, and commit to that structure, then I can just go. In the meantime I’m floundering.

It was the same when I ran AVN, when I was Mark Logan to the porn-world-at-large. If I had a big story to do, I couldn’t write a single word until I had the first paragraph or more written in my head. Sometimes it took minutes, sometimes days. Incidentally, this is what I looked like back in those days.

I’m considering posting some of the more entertaining pieces I did for the various magazines I’ve written for over the years… if anyone’s interested, drop me a line.

Okay, really, I should do some work… or bitch about Pirates of the Caribbean 2.

Kylie and I went to see it last week. She gets a knot in her panties over Johnny Depp, so pretty much anything the Deppster is in, we end up seeing (okay, not Charlie and the Freaky Johnny-is-Playing-Michael-Jackson-Ohmigod-That’s-Creepy Chocolate Factory), but just about anything else, good, bad, or just mediocre. I went to the first Pirates under protest; how could a movie based on a theme park ride possibly be anything but crap, especially when directed by Gore –The MexicanVerbinski. And, worse, a Bruckheimer movie?

I loved it. Thought it was great fun, JD was terrific, and even Orlando Blooom’s wooden acting and Keira Knightly’s forever-open-hanging-mouth didn’t ruin it. So I was pretty optimistic aboutPriates 2.

Bad idea.

What. A piece. Of shit. That movie is a mess. It’s eveything that’s bad about sequels rolled up and distilled in one huge, loud, over-art-directed, over-long, half-written pile of summer-movie crap. Nobody is trying, not even Johnny Depp. The effects are so over-the-top they Shanghai the movie completely, and the script doesn’t even pretend to make sense. Seven or eight (felt like it) hours of my life I will never get back.

Okay, really… working…

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It is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets. — Voltaire