Monday, June 26, 2006

The acceptance

So when you get accepted to a festival it’s like winning the lottery. I mean you walk around with big balls and practice your best film acceptance speech. For about 48hrs no one can say anything to you…and then reality sets in. I received the email and was like “yeah motherfuckers”. You see, this was a big festival and Sex-Love was a finalist (Sex, Love & Z-Parts is the title of my film)..we were about to rock the house.. and then you will never guess what happened; we got accepted to another festival…and this one was in Canada, and both these festivals are running back to back. That means 5 days here in Hollywood and then 6 in Toronto…talk about a schweet deal…it don’t get no better.

So I call Yoda and she is all about it, she is making preparations. Our plan is simple, blow up the Hollywood festival and then get ghost to Toronto on some “international pimp” – type shit (not that I endorse prostitution or pimping – but I understand it).

Ok so if you haven’t ever geared up for a festival or a large screening here is what it’s like. Everything has to be done yesterday, you don’t have enough minutes on your celli to call all the people who are fuckin’ shit up, you argue with your producing partner, you basically ignore you day job (not a wise move), your girlfriend will have a crisis that you will not be able to remedy because you can’t even figure out the time change on the east coast – let alone what you might be able to do to help her, your dog will shit on the floor repeatedly to let you know that you are fuckin’ shit up, and you will not be able to get any weed…

So it starts with the posters and the postcards. This is a requirement for every time you screen. Seems rather easy but you would be surprised how it turns into a logistical nightmare. I have been up Yoda’s ass for like days now, I need my fuckin’ posters. Now the last time we had posters printed by a certain Los Angeles printing house who fucked them up (On Demand I still fuckin’ hate you) I was hotter than Courtney Love when she runs out of smack. I was adamant that I would not get brown posters the day before my screening. So me and Yoda get online and try to find a deal.

So it’s nothing but cheap prices and fast turnarounds all their websites…yeah well that’s not how it goes down… but on to the story..

We are five days out from the first festival….and the emails keep coming. What is the fuckin’ deal? I mean I have weed to smoke and people to call up and brag to. If I am already accepted into the festival, why do you keep sending me shit? If I liked to read I have a real job…shit I forward everything to Yoda..and roll another blunt.

No realize that we are defending home court (unlike the Mav’s…Dirk, you know you owe me money) so we gots to blow the roof of the sucker (yes…it’s all about P-Funk). The theater holds 416 and what do you know… it’s one of the theaters that we were considering for our premiere…this out to be good.

Ok so here is the problem…this festival starts in a matter of days and we ain’t go no fuckin’ postcards. I am trying not to trip, trying not to talk about peoples momma’s…but motherfuckers is makin’ it hard. Furthermore the festival seems to not know what the fuck is going on…I’m sorry why did I think this would be money?

We have been led to believe that we are in a popular festival…the only problem is…we haven’t seen any advertising….I mean not a single poster. I mean would it kill you to run an ad on Craigslist… I mean fuck..I am trying to start a career here…but I remain optimistic as I attempt to find another weed hook up.


COOPRDOG

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