…this was originally a three-screen installation, so put your face really close to the screen and use your imagination.

haphazard insomnia

More than eight months working the night shift has finally started to take its toll in the form of (among other things) haphazard insomnia. It seems my body, after trying so hard to figure out exactly when to be tired and when to be… not tired, has finally thrown its hands up (not mine, my body’s metaphorical ones) and said “fuck it.” The result is frustrating, to say the least, and maddening of late. Last night I slept for twelve hours, tonight I fell asleep on the couch for an hour but couldn’t fall back once I switched to the bed.

This is not to say that the night shift hasn’t been affecting my life before, just that it seems to have reached a critical mass this month. It would help if the job was satisfying in some way, was using my degree in some way, was leading to a better job of some sort, was full of wonderful benefits, and so on and so on and so on. But no. The only thing it has going for it is the fact that it pays money, and that – try as I might – I can’t manage to get laid off, which is actually a bad thing, if you catch my drift.

Insomnia leads to irritability and depression, both of which are also lots of fun. I’m frustrated, and I’m stuck in a pool of creative stagnation, and I feel like I’ve lost touch with so many of my friends because my work hours have rendered me a relative ghost in this city.

So, in case you were wondering why you haven’t heard from me or why I punched you when you said “well, at least you’ve got a job,” I hope this helps you understand.



Hollywood Walk of Fame




a small third-world country

It’s good to be able to report that COVERAGE left Los Angeles with one award – Best Actress in a Short Film for Laura Heisler’s amazingness.  The fact that Michael didn’t win Best Actor is ridiculous, but giving both short film awards to our dark piece of magic might cause a fuss, and awards are just awards.  The film was very well received, and the recognition will hopefully help other festivals be less afraid to screen it.  Also, COVERAGE is officially on the independent film map, albeit as a small third-world country.

In other news, we are back in NYC, but I wish we were still sitting on this bench…


nominated for two

I am happy to announce that COVERAGE has been nominated for two awards in this year’s Method Fest: Michael Tisdale for Best Actor in a Short Film & Laura Heisler for Best Actress in a Short Film.   This basically means that our entire cast is up for awards at a festival that focusses on performance, which – while not terribly surprising – is pretty goddamn gratifying all the same.  The awards will be given out tonight at 7:00, so fingers crossed and good luck charms caressed.

red carpet

Ryan, Laura, and me (Jef) after the "COVERAGE" premiere at The Method Fest

In other news, as our Las Angeles vacation is coming to a close, I am surprised to find myself open to the idea (and fairly distinct possibility) of living here at some point.  Don’t roll your eyes until you’ve been here, and then put on your sunglasses and roll them all you want.

terribly bad and remarkably loud

As I reported earlier, my short-ish film COVERAGE got into The Method Fest – a film festival in northern Los Angeles – where it made its world premiere in front of a group of mostly strangers last Friday night.  Laura, Ryan (D.P.), and I made the trip out west last week to attend, and it has been such a profound experience (in many ways) that I’m unable to keep from writing about it any longer.  I’m not even sure where to begin, so I will just begin with a review for a film that shall remain nameless:

I am sitting in a theatre with Laura feeling like I may actually throw up.  We are about ten minutes into our second feature of the festival, and it is both terribly bad and remarkably loud.  I am a person that has always liked my movies loud, and – until this moment – it never occurred to me that a movie could be too loud.  No more.  The audio of this film is inescapably loud, so loud that the speakers occasionally distort from the strain of it, so loud that I take turns plugging one ear and then the other to keep my brain from exploding.  The fact that the film is also obnoxiously horrible creates a Clockwork Orange-like nightmare that feels like a slow death.  “I have to get out of here,” I say to Laura, her face scrunched up into a look of terror and confusion.

“We can’t leave,” she says, “it will look bad if we leave.”  I hesitantly agree, return my gaze to the mess on the screen, and consider Malcom McDowell.  The situation doesn’t improve, and I am amazed to notice that we seem to be the only two people in the theatre who are suffering – in fact, many of the others seem to be enjoying this experience.  Sadly, I am too overwhelmed to hate or pity them, I just need to get out.  The realization that there is no possible way we will make it through an hour and a half of this seems to come to us simultaneously, as Laura turns to me – her eyes and forehead squinched up with pain – and simply says “OK” at which point we quickly grab our things and stagger towards the exit.

We don’t say a word as we make our way down the hall, through the front lobby, and finally out the front doors of the theatre.  When we are safe within the confines of our rental car, I finally summon the strength to mumble “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What?” Laura weakly responds, and we both close our eyes and sit silently for a few minutes trying to make the horrible feeling go away.