The Animation Pimp: The 2003 Year in Review!

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Illustration by Andreas Hykade. Courtesy of Chris J. Robinson. [1]

So you’ve decided to quit something. All you had to do was wait for the magic clock on the wall to hit midnight and then everything would be well again. If you say it, it will come true. Right? Well… if that was the case… you wouldn’t be making this promise for the 11th consecutive year.

My cynical side loathes New Year’s (hell… we’re just guessing that it’s really a New Year anyway) along with its litter of year in reviews. They’re naïve and fanciful, filled with that Hollywood/Christian wishy wishy pixie fairy dust befitting three-year-olds’, not adults’, notion that we can just scrub the slate clean and start again. Years in Review wrongly suggest that the past can be easily compressed into readily definable categories, categories which we have developed based, in this case, on days, months and years (and from there, decades). These categories lead us to believe that we can pinpoint with ease the beginning and end points of various streams, trends or more precisely, moments. Within this mindset, there are no overlaps, inconsistencies or broken links. Everything wraps up real nice like a Rugrats flick. We might for example look back on 2003 and say… this was the year animation hit rock bottom, that 2D animation died [2], Disney is falling apart, or that evil-doing was brought to an end with the capturing of a single Iraqi. Nonsense, of course (and OK… yeah… sure… Johnny Cash and Jules Engel [3] did in fact die… but they were dying BEFORE the moment they actually died).

I was afraid to ask questions in class because it would reveal my stupidity. I saw other kids laugh at kids who asked questions. I didn’t want to be laughed at. So I stayed quiet and just took everything in whether I understood it or not. I passed classes, but barely.

The problem with year in reviews or even resolutions is they do not ask questions. Reviews make statements that are so clear and concise that you’d have to be an idiot not to understand it. There is little room for questioning. They are just summaries but summaries of the seemingly FINAL moment. They don’t bother with the other moments and actually very wrongly assume that this moment is the FINAL moment. We read these summaries, take them for granted and move on. Why? Cause they appear so obvious that we’d feel stupid if we doubted them. And secondly… life’s a hell of a lot easier when it’s easily categorized. So we almost never ever question the validity of these summaries. We never ask, for example, WHO is saying this, from whose perspective are we getting this “take.”

Let’s take animation hitting rock bottom. Says who? Finding Nemo [4] was #1 at the box office, Triplets of Belleville [5] is achieving critical success beyond animation circles, more features are being made than ever before, more animation short films are being made than ever before (just look at festival entry numbers). OK… so Klasky Csupo, Warners, and a few others are slicing staff… C.O.R.E. Digital, for example, was hiring as were an assortment of other small studios. It’s like that every year. The pendulum swings, baby.

Outside of here, Korea’s animation scene is flourishing and the Estonians had a huge domestic box office hit with Ladybird’s Christmas. Plympton finished yet another feature. Anne Marie Fleming made a first animated feature. They’re all probably feeling pretty darn good about animation right now. Animation continues to dominate television images. Internet animation [6] continues to expand and grow. If all this is happening, how can animation be in a terrible slump? Whose slump is it? So to turn around and summarize 2003, as the year of the slump in animation would be quite misleading, offering a rather one-sided perspective on what we call animation. Not everyone in animation gives a shit about Roy Disney.

Still… what choice do we have with these year-end reviews? As one of those Greeks said, a life unreflected is a life unlived. If we plough forward (as Nike would have us do) through our lives giving little consideration to the choices we’ve made or make, giving little consideration to the past, then we are not learning, we are not living. Reflection allows us that moment to stop and take account, a sort of pit stop where we can see where we are and re-tool what we think needs fixing. I dunno bout you, but I find that the days often just smash together at such a frenzied pace that I just get overwhelmed by the moment… I get so lost in a series of disconnected moments that I fail to see the larger picture… I fail to see these moments connect. As such, I lose perspective. I see only the individual moments… and they never seem to add up to anything… they just freely float separate from life.

If I have a bad day of writing or get a story rejected… I too often just want to give up, just think I’m a failure… (my Latvian animator chum just e-mailed me this morning – Dec. 16 — about the same problem. She works very hard every day and as such has lost sight of the end… is just so lost in these daily processes that she’s forgotten WHY she’s doing what she’s doing.) Of course it’s an illusion, it’s my perspective… or lack thereof that causes this. Carving out a career/hobby… whatever… as a writer doesn’t help. It’s a lonely silly addiction not even worthy of my dog. Sometimes you spend days punched out by doubt, fear, apathy and failure. Other days you bask in delusions of success, confidence and certainty.

You wish you could just toss it aside and get a “normal” job (which I have six months of the year)… but you know it ain’t gonna happen because, 1. you’ll get fired in a week and 2. you NEED to write, think, articulate the mess that surrounds you on a daily basis. It’s not a matter of privilege or laziness. It’s a matter of need… a chemical imbalance perhaps. I guess it’s a matter of perspective again. Writers/artists have unstructured, messy lives… art is a way of structuring those moments. It’s not all that different than a 9 to 5 job really. We try to find structure and need that sort of regiment to order their lives (of course… we all know that most of us/them then fuck around unstructured within that structure). It’s like that Mr. Show sketch about how a dysfunctional background tends to create more umm… artistically inclined folks. If you’ve come from function… that means you’ve had structure and order and calm… you like it… you know it… you follow it. You come from dysfunction… you know chaos, alienation, lack social basics etc… and don’t fit into those umm… “normal” compartments… although as we increasingly see… normal itself is a relative thing (check out Foucault’s Madness and Civilization or hey… check out Philip Dick’s Martian Time Slip or the recent Professor and the Madman by Simon Winchester). I hate to quote Popeye, cause there’s this laissez-faire attitude he has that stinks, but there is some fundamental philosophical truth in, “I yam what I yam.”

In theory, the idea of year-end resolutions ain’t such a bad thing; it means you’ve been reflecting on who you are… and that you have a desire to break free from Popeye’s shrug. But we really seem to think that we can just erase the past and start from scratch. That’s not only a fallacy, but it’s a belief that puts unrealistic pressures on you. You’re not a floppy disk. You cannot just reformat come January 1st. If you come to realize that, you’ll make things a hell of a lot easier. All those damn promises. You don’t just up and stop drinking January 1 or diet or quit smoking. You need a plan mon chums, a system, a structure. That’s the irony of this seemingly highly structured and compartmentalized end of year stuff… they’re actually totally unstructured. No one plans it out. It’s stuck in this click of the heels, if I say it it’ll come true fairy tale. Soundbites.

Historical amnesia remains one of the most prevalent illnesses of our time. We constantly seem to feel that we can change the future by erasing the past, when in fact we must read, acknowledge and understand the past if we have any hope up resolving the present and future. Animation isn’t going to die or thrive come January 1st. It doesn’t work like that… animation is where it is and isn’t because of thousands upon thousands of decisions made in scattered moments in different times and spaces.

(For a nifty visual translation of what I’m saying, check out Mati Kutt’s film, Underground which is all about order/disorder and how they inform one another… or what was that Belgian student film, Antipode?)

So we need a bit more balance between the moments/means and the end. We need to value those moments more and yet not get so caught up in them that we lose sight of the larger picture. Bigger problem is our fixation on the end over the means. Year in reviews are like highlight packages… they focus on the goal, not the work that lead to the goal. The result is all the matters, not the process. Creates the illusion that goals are easily attained. So if I look back on my year… I’d say… OK… June 2, 2003 — first book is published. That’s it, that’s all. But what about all those small, seemingly mundane and irrelevant moments from March 1996 (let’s say) to December 2003 that led up to that June 2nd achievement? What about those seemingly endless hours spent alone in a god damn cold basement often staring blankly at the screen or watching Seinfeld? They all contributed to the end result, didn’t they? They’re all part of the package, ain’t they? And that’s just moments DIRECTLY related to the end. That doesn’t include all those earlier years… filled with seemingly inconsequential moments that in fact contributed to that June 2 ‘end.’

Course, as I was telling that sweet Latvian friend, I know that deep down we need those “end” moments. All those moments of doubt… all those days that don’t seem to add up, connect or go anywhere… suddenly come together on June 2, 2003 when I see the book before me and realize, somewhat incredulously, that all those seemingly wasteful, disconnected moments of doubt, failure, success, hard work… did add up to something (materially). But that moment passed quickly because I’d already finished a second manuscript by that time. You move on. Still… the book remains as a beacon, tomb, or a series of shouts from ghosts of a sometimes forgotten past.

So hey… my friend… by all means… take this Year in Review moment to reflect and look back at your life… but don’t expect to clear the field and start anew just like that. That’s fool fodder. Who you are now was constructed — no shit — over a life time of seemingly irrelevant moments, so why on earth would you expect to be able to just up and radically alter yourself in a single year, let alone a single day.

And now… a special bonus… cause I know you want it:

The Animation Pimp’s 2003 Year in Review (as told to the author by jolts of memory flashes)

January
Hmm… it was pretty damn cold… went back to boxing classes… Kelly signed us up for snacks at Jarvis’ school during the first two weeks of January. That SUCKS. Snow fell. We have a long driveway. I enjoy using the plow… but why can’t those ity plow fucks distribute the snow somewhere BEYOND our damn laneway entrance. Man it’s cold. Didn’t stop us from Friday night hockey. We were playing sometimes in -30 (Celsius) weather. Was bad for 10-15 minutes… but then the body warms up. Making final edits to Estonian book. Trying to work on this “hockey” book. Having a hard time. Hmm… my urine is too yellowy. I gotta take more fluids. Wanna kill that publisher of Chunklet. Wrote a piece on Sterling Hayden for them eight months ago. Good piece. They ain’t using it in this new issue. Says there’s no room.

February
Went to New York to hang with Signe, Gerben and Anet. Plympton had a nice party for us. Slept in Bill’s studio. Had to climb a ladder to go to bed every night. Heavy snowstorm. Wore my new camper shoes. They’re the best shoes in the world. Not feeling great. Really cold in New York. Spent $300 on dinner at Da Silvanos. What a weird experience that was… we were out of element… beside mobsters and fashion fag-hags. Guy who wrote Lauren book beside us. Food sucked too. Got back, drove to Dartmouth College. Ehrlich didn’t tell me I was reviewing student work. Fuck me. I hate doing that. It’s not fair.

Was also on a panel about creativity. That was fun. Was invited as a writer… not as this festival schmuck. The girl who moderated the panel was later in a serious accident. She was in a coma. Not sure if she made it. Reminds me… met Linda Pakre at Estonia house. She’s keen on doing this Estonian animation festival next November in New York. Bundle o’ energy on that gal. Nice drive back from Vermont. Relaxed. Cold. When I got back my retro Bruins circa-72 jersey was waiting. Wore it to hockey that week. Jarvis is sick. Spending the week with him. We’re watching the Star Wars films. Want him to see that good and evil aren’t so easy to define… but realize the series is also about a father trying to kill his son. Oops. Now I’m sick. Trying to keep writing the hockey book but feeling real groggy.

SAFO [7]… fuck why are we doing it? No one cares except the students. Still… got Oscar Grillo [8] on the jury. Hear he’s pretty funny. Two years of sobriety. Wee-haa, who wants a drink!? Still fucking hard to manage all this time. Finally get my copy of that nifty Spanish festival publication, Animac. They do a great job with the design and layout. I wrote something about — yeah yeah — sex and animation for them. Was nice to see alongside these serious academic orientated pieces. Ha.

March
Why is there a big lump on my neck? Shit. A virus. Mono or something. Stuck in the house for about 10 days. Most sick I ever been. Good excuse to watch Murder She Wrote every day and not write. National Arts Centre just sent us a letter saying they’re getting rid of their projection equip. Fuck me. We’ve been there since 1976. Why are they just sending us a fucking letter? Asswipes. Takes us two to three weeks to solve the problem for 2004… but solve it we do. What’s with the Estonians? What ain’t they getting back to me about the status of this book. Man they’re slow. Is there a pagan clock? Talking to a lot of old hockey players. Man oh man is that something. Tom Johnson, Red Storey, called the Gump but he had a heart attack. Just found out that the first guy I interviewed for the book, Chuck Rayner, kicked it. Damn. Meantime… trying to put spring ASIFA issue together. Pain in the ass trying to find GOOD writers and better ideas.

April
Hockey playoffs are here. Life has meaning. Still ploughing away on that book. I’m late on my March 31, deadline… but I have a fear that the publisher has split. Rumors abound. SAFO’s coming together but this Colburn gal is bugging me. Never responds. Maybe this was a mistake. Got Richard O’Connor on board though. He’ll be a good fresh perspective… and the best dressed jury member ever. Marcel Jean will hold them all together. Starting to train for the 10k race… but pain in the knee. Need new shoes I guess.

Teachers saying they might hold Jarvis back. Fuck them. Montessori is supposed to be about the kid’s going at their OWN pace. What gives. Turned the public school across the street into a private school. Found a review copy of Nick Tosches’ new book. Am I in heaven, baby. Great. Senators knocked off the Islanders… yeah… off to Detroit. Showing Ottawa best of at college there. I hate Detroit. My biological father lives there. He wants nothing to do with me I think cause his alcoholic wife thinks its wrong. I brought his number. We had a good time in 2000, got drunk talked hockey and gals. Never saw him again. I should call him… but I won’t. Read Tosches’ book. Disappointing. Damn.

May
Back to Detroit. Reviewing this school’s animation dept. Nice people there. Detroit still sucks. I do nothing but watch TV at night cause there ain’t nowhere to go. Drove this time. What a dull drive from Ottawa-Toronto-Windsor-Detroit. Wanted out so bad I drove back at 9:30 pm… got to Ottawa around 5:00 am. Hallucinated for the last two hours. Was convinced something was in the trunk. Sens beat the Flyers. Off to the semi-finals! Listened to Canucks/Wild game and blared Alien Lanes through Oshawa.

Getting’ real stressed. Almost to the end of the hockey book. It’s eating me apart. Realize that I have not forgiven my parents… have not forgiven myself. Decide to do two things — tell stepdad-cop that I cannot accept him as he is…. tell mom she was a terrible parent, but I forgive her. Didn’t see that coming. Kelly’s off to Turku. I bailed. Too much into this book. Estonians are driving me crazy. They assure me we’re launching the book at Annecy… but I haven’t even seen the cover. I enjoy weeks alone with Jarvis. We have a good ol’ casual time. No mom rhythm to get in the way.

I finish the hockey book the night that the Senators tie the series with the Devils. Also my birthday. Decide to spend $100 on Game 7 tickets. Crazy. Ottawa is crazy with Stanley cup fever. You can feel this pride and togetherness and confidence surging through the city. I show up two hours early and sit alone in the empty rink watching it fill with people. Ottawa loses. They’re tied with two minutes to go and they blow it. A simple defensive play fucked up. The city is shot silent. Fuckaduck. I can still see that Friesen goal. Off to Annecy [9]. Send my manuscript to the publisher. He’s gone under. Fuck me. Need a new publisher. Gonna be hard. This ain’t no conventional bio. Saw the Estonian cover. Looks great.

Fly to Amsterdam, great drive with Gerben, Anet and Erik (Holland festival friends). Spend a night in Paris… I order some ugly ass fucking fish that I refuse to eat. Every time I go to Paris I order something stupid, says Gerben. He likes to remind me that he’s better than me.

June
Long drive to Annecy… but a good time… beautiful mountains… pit stops… lots of music… got into Dylan’s Royal Albert concert. Relaxing man. Arrive at Annecy. Hmm… I’m bored. Ticket system sucks. Nice to see friends… but too many to see… just becomes stupid. Estonians arrive late. Book looks great. I think I slept with the book that night. Find out the Estonians didn’t even fucking reserve a space for the launch. Gerben, Anet and I race around to ensure that we have one. Goes well. Everyone says they like the book. Of course they’re going to say that.

Jogged every morning. Nice to jog in Annecy, man. Festival was OK… but student films were bad except for this crazy one by this JJ Villard guy. Wanna see that one again. Was given a VHS copy of Priit Parn’s new film. Man was I disappointed. Priit needs a rest. Left the party quietly. Too many people to say bye too. Fuggit. Eager to go. One more night in Paris. Remember this Italian rest. Chick talking about the “darkies.” I can’t believe I heard that word especially from another immigrant!

Line up for four hours in Paris airport. Lost my heart monitor watch. Air Canada cuts meets French hospitality. Oh man. Got back. Get sent to Toronto Immigration. Held for 20 minutes. Apparently Chris Robinson, with the same birthdate, is wanted in a variety of U.S. states for a variety of offences. Jesus man… after about 10 minutes… I think back to my drinking days. Maybe I was in Jacksonville? Did I assault a cop? Finally they release me and note that I’m not the guy on their computer.

Start doing pre-selection for SAFO. Monday, June 16. Letter arrives from Telefilm Canada. They’re cutting all our funding. Just like that. I dust off my résumé and apply for some jobs. I’ve had it. Fuck this festival and fuck all this idiot Canadian bureaucrats who want something for nothing. Kelly O Brien died. Oh man… she founded the festival. Ward-Gatti 3 is this week… but I watch Ward-Gatti 2. Ward gets his ear drum punctured, but refuses to go down. Inspires me to fight these Telefilm Canada dipshits. Next three to four weeks is spent planning a massive media campaign. Jarvis finishes school. Doing pretty well but still behind. Teacher meetings make me angry. Why? Two writers read my hockey book and like it a lot. Makes me feel pretty damn good despite it all.

July Couple weeks in (after Jarvis’ fifth birthday party — too many kids… too many kids) we start getting strange calls… apparently the funding decision is going to be reversed. S’like X-Files. Hmm… man… I’m in good shape. Look at those shoulder muscles. I’d like to hit someone… maybe Richard Stursberg? Maybe an animator? Leading the hockey team in scoring and the league in penalty minutes. How’s that possible? Mid-July. Funding restored for now. Rest of month is spent watching all the entries. No time for nutting else. I hate myself. Why am I doing this job? I’m sick of this shit. No structure… no board… shitty pay. Not overly impressed with the crop this year except this JJ Villard guy. Made this Bukowski film. It’s great… real raw and honest. Easily the best film here. I like this job.

August
Putting the catalog together and getting my manuscript ready for publishers. Canadian writer tells me he likes the manuscript. Man… but two other friends say it’s chaotic. Who to believe? It’s supposed to be chaotic. It’s about identity. Score a sweet job writing for Montage magazine. Pay is way too good. Few more of those and I can leave the festival. Funding coming in for SAFO. Fuck me. Why is it always last minute? We’re almost sold out of passes. What gives? I know it’s smaller… but what’s with this festival anyway. We’re gonna can it either way. Makes no sense. People are confused… people are not interested in student work even if it’s better than the films at the OIAF. All those “veteran” animators should be at SAFO getting a fresh kick of energy.

Grandfather sold his house. Shit man, I was born in that house. We have a final shindig. All of us roaming the empty house like ghosts…. Looking at every wall, every mark, every crack and stain and corner for evidence that we existed here once. I’ve never seen my relatives like this. Usually they’re all so cold and distant. My grandfather does not attend this farewell. He’s moved into this care facility with my grandma whose got Alzheimer’s. Holy shit… I just found out that Linda from the Estonia house, the woman who was organizing the Estonian anim. Festival, just died. Apparently she was in a coma for two weeks. She’d fallen asleep in her apartment and left a cigarette or candle burning. Someone suggested that she was reading my book at the time (she’d just bought a copy). Assholes. Guess our festival is off.

September
Trying to get ASIFA magazine done. ASIFA pres. has apparently lost his mind. Squirrel meat takes like hamburger. Off to Switzerland for Fantoche festival. Introducing Kovalyov screening and moderating some panels. Opening ceremony is awful… I mean awful. Nice town. Getting sick. So many beautiful women…. when does THAT stop? Gerben and I have nice chats. OK… Hold up… this town is getting boring. Can only jog so far. Can only see those films so many times. Drinking a lot of coffee. Shit… got a cold. Oh man… stopped in Toronto again. Sent through Immigration. I’m still wanted in the U.S. Jesus Christ… can’t they correct this? I have to call this 1-800-number I’m told. Back to Ottawa. Kelly’s friend Kelly died. I sorta knew her. She had cancer for four years. Only stayed alive for her two young kids. She was kinda bitchy but I liked her. She told you what she felt. Johnny Cash died that week. Big deal.

Sent out manuscript to six publishers. Heard back from one. Said I can’t write (basically). Fuck him and his mom. Find out later that publisher is facing heavy financial losses. Like to tell myself that’s the real reason. Jarvis is back at school. After one day they called him up to the “all days.” He’s so excited. His confidence soars overnight and he’s suddenly excited about school. I told those teachers. Pal loans me Alan Partridge DVD. British comedy. Funny. Started playing ice hockey again. Man it’s zen. So damn relaxing. You can cheat. Just glide and feel that breeze. I dunno what it is… but it’s calming and exhilarating.

October
Andreas Hykade [10] and family visit us for a few days before SAFO. His daughter doesn’t speak any English. Jarvis speaks no German. They get along great. SAFO goes off w/o hitch except Grillo’s pissed off because of Meltzer’s article. I think he just likes to complain. We get a note from head of Telefilm Canada congratulating us on being sold out. Says it was good that they had second thoughts. Hmm… I guess our massive media campaign had no effect.

Son of Satan won. I’m pleased as a bitch in heat being tongued about that. It was far and away the best film. A lot didn’t think so. A lot of students found it ugly. Idiots. They all seem to think that “art” is flawless and perfect. What’s with these kids? What’s with their teachers? Hey… some schmuck doesn’t like my “stoner” introductions. I don’t smoke pot buddy. I guess he’d prefer the formal, fake fucks that usually go up on stage, pretending they care and like you and all that. At least I don’t pretend. John Canemaker is the Jean Beliveau of animation. A real swell guy. Doesn’t take any shit either.

Got my head punched in ball hockey by some wingnut. So much for boxing skills. When he gets the same one game suspension I get, I ‘retire’ from this nuttiness. Pride hurt, head bruised.

Urine is consistently clear. Doctor says I’m in good shape. (Means trouble I figure).

Dog’s medicine is working. She jogs with me, but no more limps. Expensive of course.

Estonian festival is happening but no idea how. I’ve organized the films and the guests… and all that… but have no idea where I’m staying or what’s happening. Estonians are really slow. It’s not just me.

Jarvis’ school has Harvest feast. I hate other parents. Fake conversations all night with these pseudo rich shits. I offer Jarvis any toy of his choice not to go… but he refuses. Idiot or genius? A lot of birthday parties this month. I really have a social problem with other parents. Kelly and I just don’t fit in. Hmm… screw it.

November
Chris Lanier’s SAFO ‘review’ comes out. Man… I don’t know if he liked the festival or not… but it don’t matter. He wrote a beautiful text. He GOT it. Life usually stops at festivals… but life somehow managed to eek its way into SAFO. Amazing really. Two more book rejects. One just doesn’t get it. Other does… but says it doesn’t fit them. Started Level 3 boxing. Doing sit-ups on some huge balloonish ball. Why? Sent a short story to some British mag. Let’s see.

Off to RISD and New York. Family adventure and work. Senior Critic at RISD. Damn that was fun… enjoyed exchanging ideas with the students… and a good way to prevent bad films before they happen! Parking sucks in Providence. Saw They Might be Giants live at Borders in Providence Mall. Why? Off to New York. One night in Brooklyn with ROC. We see GBV at Warsaw. Good time. They were smashed from the get-go. Off to Manhattan. Driving. Wow. I love driving here cause I’m an asshole. Staying at Hotel Penn. Introducing three nights of Estonian animation at Two Boots Cinema. Party/launch for book. All goes well. Mati Kutt and Priit Tender are here. Even Grant comes from North Carolina.

Wish I was drinking. Oh man… and there’s Signe, Griffin, Krause x 2, Missy, Jessie Schmal, Dovas, Kugel, Solomon… nice afternoon with Sarah the Amazing One. I love this town. For three days I just walked up and down following the lights. Hey… the Boxing Hall of Fame is on the way back. It’s really small and quiet. They have these bronzed fists… One guy had this MASSIVE fist — size of a kid’s head. Jesus. No problems. Finished another short story. Jarvis is sick but wants to go to school. What the hell is wrong with that boy?

Kelly’s off to Korea for a week. Some best of SAFO thingie. I didn’t want to go. Turned down three invites to Korea this year. Been twice before. Kinda boring. Too far to go for a few days. Besides…it means a week with me and Jarv. Good times. Late nights. Sugar. Drive to MTL with friend, Matt. He’s got a small (really small) press. Published two local writers. Sold well. Really admire Matt’s work. The writers are so damn happy too. Fuck big publishers. Starting to work on third book. S’all about my fathers… about a guy who finds his real father only to find that his father doesn’t know his own father. Wish it was fiction. Bought a used electric guitar and an amp. Haven’t played electric in a decade. Nice to have around for those rock out days. Started work on 2004. Lots of big changes planned, and I’ve got this ambitious programming series that’s gonna be a bitch to put together. Hmm… maybe I do like this job after all.

December
Xmas decorations go up just as I start getting sick.

Bronchitis. God damn it. Sick for almost the entire month (even as I write this on December 15). Saw images from new Kovalyov film, Milk. Looks real nice. Lots of new films to look forward to: Chris Landreth’s film about Ryan Larkin is coming out as is Michele Cournoyer’s new film. Tried to shovel snow, tried to walk… but coughed so hard I puked. Haven’t boxed or run in over two weeks. I hate this house. This is the sickest I’ve ever been in my life. Couldn’t even read much. Couldn’t do much some days except stare at the walls. Reminds me of writing.

Why is everyone crying about Roy Disney? I could give a flying squirrel about this guy and all his problems. All these animators embrace it like it’s their own. It ain’t, fools. All of a sudden ol’ confused nephew Roy is the modern bastion of art. Jeepers.

Managed to drive Jarvis to school this week. What’s with those ladies? Do they not GET THE FUCKING LINE CONCEPT? Why does that BMW bitch park in the no park spot and get out and just ignore the line? I’d like to slap her… but I bet her hubbie already does that. Hmm… maybe I shouldn’t quit therapy just yet. Why do the other ladies get out of the car and chat? The rule is that you stay in the car. I ain’t lining up no more.

Kelly goes to Toronto. Telefilm Canada says that funding is still in place for 2004. I’m cautiously optimistic. Another studio has also come in big for us. Lots of work to be done.

Saw a commercial that irked me. Something about a place you can easily go to get cash advances when you receive “unexpected bills.” Who the fuck receives unexpected bills? Is there a gremlin in your house using your credit card or did you go on a spending spree while you were pumped up with liquor taken while trying to sooth an aching sense of nothingness with stuff?

Watching this show Firefly. Man it’s bad. Everyone was raving about it. Bad acting. Pretentious. As hollow as Gary Bettman. My urine is yellow again. Must be this illness.

Well… s’about it. I guess I prolly jerked off almost every day… sometimes to porn… sometimes to imaginings… my scalp is too dry… I chew my nails (fingers, not toes)… I probably spent too much time sitting around (even though I’m in the best physical shape of my life: jog more than 10 miles/week, boxing twice a week, ice hockey two hours/week.) It’s actually amazing that I did anything. Oh… and I thought about dying a lot. Far too much, but that’s sorta the norm in my life. I could eat a little better… cut the carbs… but I ain’t doing too bad. I’d like to spend more time with Jarv but he likes having private time after a day of school. Can’t blame him. I still managed to write at least one freelance article per month. Made a few new friends this year but lost a couple too. Still trying to find my half brother in New York state. No luck so far. He’s four months younger than me. My urine is really yellow. Better get more fluids. Prolly just this illness.

So hey… relatively speaking.… I’d say things ain’t so bad.

Chris Robinson is but a man. His hobbies include squirrel taunting, goat thumping, meat dancing and elderly peeping. You can find the results at http://asifa.net/robinson.