I'm happy to report that I have now seen super-blogger Sujewa Ekanayake's much publicized feature, DATE NUMBER ONE. I attended Saturday night's packed screening at the Kensington Row Bookshop, which ironically enough is where a majority of the film was shot. Which made the occasion even more special.

The film is about as charming as they come, which left a pleasant taste in my mouth. Sujewa presents a world in which cultures don't clash, they mesh. It's refreshing to see characters who all appear to have a natural optimism, as opposed to the typical indie-film predilection for bitterness and cruelty. To be completely honest, I was worried about stepping into a 115-minute no budget movie, because lately I'm worried about stepping into a 115-minute yes budget movie (unless it's Bela Tarr). Yet during DATE NUMBER ONE, I never got to a point where I felt like checking my watch. This is because the film is told in five separate chapters, and while characters intersect at various points, each segment has its own flavor, which kept me guessing the entire time. That said, I do think ultimately that a finished product at 95/100-minutes would get a much better response. I wish Sujewa well in his DIY approach to distribution, and I congratulate him for making a full-fledged movie. Of course, I worry that the production value will keep it relegated to the minor leagues, but if he plays his cards right, he'll be making his money back and on his way to making another.

I also did some on camera performing for my good buddy Rob, who's latest approach to directing makes Robert Rodriguez look like Stanley Kubrick. Seriously, we had wrapped before we'd even shot. Insane! I got to deliver a monologue as a homeless person, which isn't much of a stretch at the moment. I'm sure it was awful, but I have to be 100% honest with myself: I really like acting. Which is why I'm embarking on a tiny Maryland film this summer. 1) To do just that, and 2) To realize that I have ABSOLUTELY NO BUSINESS ACTING.

A large portion of the rest of the weekend was spent watching soccer. That Argentinian goal might be the dopest goal I've ever seen. England looks sluggish and boring, and I'm finding it harder to root for them every game. They better wake up before the next round, because Portugal looks damn good (even though they'll be playing without one of their best players). That Netherlands/Portugal game was completely bonkers. I felt sorry for the Russian official. He looked like a subsitute teacher who realized shit was about to hit the fan, so he started tossing referrals at anyone who opened their mouth.

I wrote some more music, which I hope to some day record properly. For now, I'll add it to the list of "Things Mike Wants To Do But He Isn't Doing Because There Are Too Many Things To Do That Distract Him From Doing The Things He Really Should Be Doing."

Also, I finally read THE ALCHEMIST. Am I officially the last person on the planet to read this book? Quite magical and inspiring. I see what the hype was about.

I just finished watching Lindsay Anderson's THIS SPORTING LIFE (1963). Richard Harris comes off like a delirious blend of Marlon Brando and Peter Sellers, and I swear to God that wasn't Rachel Roberts, that was Wren Arthur. I really, really liked it.

Last week, I mentioned something about a potentially amazing project that I passed up on. Scratch that. I'm on board. I don't want to jinx anything, but suffice to say, if all goes well, I'll let y'all know. And even if the project is a bust, I will have a once-in-a-lifetime experience to recount to my great-grandchildren on my deathbed.

Oh wait, you need to make a child to have great-grandchildren, how silly of me. I'll recount it to the nurse at the insane asylum.

Please join me in hoping that the questionable looking mole that was removed from the back of my right arm last week is benign like a muhfucka. If not, I am absolutely F-U-C-K-E-D. How twisted is it that my only worry in having cancer is a monetary issue? Honestly, that's my only concern. I don't have health insurance, and cancer is expensive. I clearly don't value my life in the way that I should (Exhibits A-FF: look at what I've done with the first 31 years of my existence), and while I'm not suicidal or anything like that, I simply don't fear death as a concept. But the thought of putting a ridiculous financial burden on my parents makes me want to cry just thinking about it. Though I've already come up with a plan. The first ever "Boredom at Its Boredest" benefit concert! That would contribute at least $186.00 to the cause!