Hello Happy Pitbulls

RIP Anthony Minghella

The English Patient is a special film to me.  Not only is it the only film I worked on which won an Oscar (9, really, but who is counting), it was a very emotional project for many reasons.  First of all, I was one of the first sound people brought on board and I was the First Assistant Sound Editor.  I busted butt doing everything from chasing around my boss with her glasses and pencil, to editing all the sound in the 20 minute show reel, to tracking 2 complete crews during a point in the film when we had two versions going to previews.  I saw the first cut go from 5 hours to the finished product.  It's the film I was working on when I met my husband.  It's the film that made me realize there are more important things in life than working.

The most special part of the film was the crew.  Not just the sound people, but the director, the producers -- everyone.  This film was such a product of Berkeley where I was working.  It wasn't like a film that transplanted in Berkeley for a few weeks of mixing.  It was something that felt like home.  My best friend Rob, who is no longer with us, got a job as Anthony Minghella's assistant, so we spent lots of time partying down with Ant and the rest of the crew.  Anthony was the first director who asked us little people for our honest opinions, and to share feedback with him as the film progressed.  Even if we were bugged by little things like Almasy's shirt being white in one scene and blue moments later even though it was supposed to be the same scene.  Boy that bugged me.  But Ant really listened.  He cared.  He cared how we were.  He cared if we were stressed.  He cared about everyone, and the the product, and it showed.

I was shocked to read today that Anthony died. I am just shocked.  He was a true master.  I cherish the time I spent working with him and my heart goes out to his family.

Before the internet...

Sometimes I spend a lot of time thinking about really silly things to amuse myself.  This usually happens on my way too and from work or in the shower.  And don't get me started about the absolutely insane dreams that I have. [ADD Sidenote: Yes, I had a recent complex dream sequence about a project teammate at work who needed to be humanely euthanized because of not getting funding approved by our Board to keep him alive.]

I've spent a lot of time thinking about how there's a whole generation of people who don't understand the concept of an "album" - you know, those black vinyl things that CDs replaced and then iTunes replaced?

Recently, I've given more thought to life before the internet.  Really, it's only been around for a short time.  Even when I was a geek on the Well in San Francisco and doing everything online sending keyboard commands through telnet prompts and belonging to various dialup BBS services, you still pretty much had to live in the analog world.

I remember living in New York, when I had to go to Brooklyn or somewhere off the numbered Avenue/Street grid, I carried a giant laminated map of the city and the subway system to orient myself. Nowadays, you have a mobile service on your phone for Yahoo or Google Maps, or your nav system, to get you from A to B. 

How does the technology change the kind of people we're becoming.  Or does it?  I don't know what's making me think all this.  I think it's time to up the dosage again!

Weird dreams

I have been having super weird dreams as of late, and last night was no exception.

I had this dream that for some reason I was back at Trinity College doing some fill in show at WRTC.  It was just like I remember the radio station -- complete with turntables.  I was doing the show after this guy (who in my dream is one of the guys from IT at work who I think has decent musical taste) but he was playing some super crappy music.  Then I heard this weird voice say "This is Jack-FM, We play what we want."  I thought to myself, "Oh shit, even RTC is a Jack station now?"

The next thing I realized, I was sitting up in bed and my alarm went off, tuned to 93.7 Jack-FM in Sacramento -- and I was listening to Yes.  I immediately got up and changed the channel to NPR.

WTF?

In Memory of a Major Life Influence

On Sunday, April 9, Francis Michael Casey, the former headmaster of my old high school, passed away.  Mr. Casey, as we fondly remember him, was an incredible influence in the path I took in life.  I interviewed for admittance into the private school at the age of 10 and giggled my way through the interview with him.  He was a great supporter of the arts and he encouraged me to pursue a degree in music during my six years at the school.  My family greatly respected Mr. Casey for his dedication to getting the Zalkan kids through a collective 18 years at the school and getting us the finest education we could get growing up in Springfield, MA in the 70s and 80s.

View his obituary here.

I think about Mr. Casey driving around in this little Spider convertible back in the early 80's and it makes me smile.  He also had a really creepy puppet of himself in his office that used to give me the heebee jeebies.

Most of all, Mr. Casey makes me think of my mom, who admired him and trusted him for his loyalty.  They're probably both together now, kicking back with a cocktail, laughing about the strange origins of funny words.

15 minutes of fame

My old pal and former partner in crime from Seattle, Paul, sent me a link to this site: Andy Wahr-Blog.  Someone got the brilliant idea to start blogging the Andy Warhol Diaries, in real time.

Now what you all should know is that in the beginning of time, before the internet, I had a somewhat loose email distribution of a "newsletter" called Trasharama.  This started off as an email consisting of random facts, horoscopes, stupid stuff, quotes from John Waters and daily entries for the Warhol Diaries. This was in 1994, when I was a poor, unemployed film sound apprentice.  I would collect my unemployment check, party down in my neighborhood joint in San Francisco's Bernal Heights (The Wild Side West).  Oh, the good old days.

Anyhow, Trasharama started as emails to my few friends who had email addresses, which expanded to friends of friends, and other random people.  I actually made some decent friends out of strangers that way.

I tried to start up a Trasharama blog, but for some reason, it's just not the same now that there's a billion random blogs and everyone's got one.  I ended up deleting it because it was just plain embarrassing (and too hard to try to maintain two blogs).

It goes back to my old theory -- there's no such thing as an original idea anymore.

Remembering Hurricane Gloria

All of the excitement of Hurricane Rita and Hurricane Katrina reminds me of my early days growing up on the east coast.  Usually hurricanes didn't quite make it up to Massachusetts, but when they did, it was always quite a ride.  I remember one from the 70's, hurricane Belle.  I just checked online and it was in 1976, so I was all of 9.  Anyhow, I was petrified and I slept in my brother's room on the floor listening to the AM radio under the pillow while the wind was howling outside.  I remember hearing Paul McCartney's "Someone's Knocking At the Door" song.

In 1985, I was a sophomore at Trinity College when Hurricane Gloria made a direct hit on Long Island and hit us in Hartford, CT.  I was the Station Manager of our radio station at the time (WRTC) and I covered a bunch of people's shifts and was on the air from 7 PM through the following morning at 10:00 AM.  When I emerged from the basement radio station, all the trees were gone.  Gloria did a number in Hartford (nothing like these last two hurricanes), but there were a lot of trees knocked down around the campus.  I don't remember whether they had shelters in place or not, or how that worked.  It was definitely early in the school year.  I was definitely freaked out.

My heart goes bang as you spin me right round....

Oh my god -- courtesy of Awful Plastic Surgery -- Peter Burns of Dead or Alive fame is still indeed alive and is apparently a candidate for cover girl. Something's gone terribly awry.