Wednesday, February 29, 2012


The Plan: Depart LAX at 4:50 pm, land in Missoula, MT at 8:20 pm, meet the missus at the airport, meet, greet and crash at the residence of her Aunt Nina.
What Actually Happened: Delayed in LAX four extra hours, tossed an insufficient meal voucher for $8, eat the world's most disproportionately expensive cheese pizza, dawdle on the tarmac for forty-five minutes, land in Missoula at 12:50 am, meet the missus at the airport, crash at the cat-piss smelling residence of her Aunt Nina.

The Plan: Depart Missoula by car at 8:00 am, drive through the majority of Montana, a portion of Idaho and a small portion of Utah, stop for Subway lunch someplace, check into La Quinta in Orem, Utah by 5:00 pm, chill the fuck out.
What Actually Happened: Depart Missoula by car at 10:30 am, eat an extra nutritious breakfast of nachos at the local Sinclair station, drive through the majority of Montana and a portion of Idaho, devour a meatball sandwich from Subway in Idaho Falls, drive through a small portion of Utah, read some juicy new Scott Lynch short story, miss the appropriate exit in Orem, get re-directed from trio of drunk women in a Shell Station, check into the hotel, devour some mushroom pizza, sleep the contended sleep of the well-traveled.

The Plan: Depart Orem by 8:00 am, drive through the majority of Utah, a tiny portion of Arizona, a portion of Nevada and the majority of California, stop for Subway someplace, navigate the treacherous streets of Los Angeles, arrive at Archstone, celebrate.
What Actually Happened: Depart Orem by 10:30 am, drive through the majority of Utah, rock out a singalong of The Hazards of Love through the appropriately pseudo-taiga of southern Utah, stop for Subway in Cedar City, Utah, drive through a tiny portion of Arizona, rock out a singalong of Hadestown through the gorgeously badass Virgin River Canyon, pit stop in Vegas' Chinatown for a stretcher, get stranded in Baker, California, home of Alien Brand Jerky and the worst fucking on-ramp in the history of transpor-fucking-tation, watch the sun set over Zzyzx, finish our subs in Barstow, press onward to Los Angeles, listen to Tom Waits as we arrive at Archstone, celebrate.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Obligatory Input Update

I'm currently staying at La Quinta Inn in Orem, Utah. And there's a ghost robot posting this.

What I'm Reading: Tales of the Far West. An anthology whose flagship story was penned by the illustrious Scott Lynch (and my initial interest), the book itself proved to be meh, the shared world exceedingly interesting and said flagship story excellent, as per usual. Down the line, if I ever develop enough clout, I might request a story in a future installment. The world presented sounds like a fun place to run around it. Idears were already a-percolatin' as I read. Something with bank robbers...

What I'm Listening To: Somebody That I Used To Know, by Gotye. On insidious repeat. All the time. Every now and again, our apartment will discover a new song (usually from Steven's fiancé) and we'll all spam the ever-loving fuck out of it. Previously, it was AWOLNATION'S Sail. Now, it's this extremely popular Phil Collins throwback. For a laugh, check out the nearly as popular cover by Walk Off The Earth, this year's Pompaloose.

What I'm Watching: As previously posted. I've barely made any progress since the last posting, but still. The missus isn't any further than Bob Odenkirk's famous entrance and I personally haven't laid a single finger on Season Four, much as I've been tempted. Aaron Paul and Bryan Cranston impression abound through the apartment, likely repeating the dialogue pattern previously blogged about. We're even taking some music cues from that infectious fucking theme song for the Hull Damage book teaser soundtrack.*

This time tomorrow, I'll be returned to California, with special ladyfriend in tow.

*The music of which'll be provided by impromptu supergroup Cannonball Dogs (Steven, Dan and Courtney masquerading as an in-universe band.)

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Timothy J. Timetravelguy


If you're reading this, I'm from the past.

As you may have gleaned, I'm embarking on a cross-country voyage, the final stage of my long-running master plan to move the missus out to the territories with me. First, I fly to Missoula, Montana. There, I meet the ladyfriend. From there, we begin a two-day roadtrip across Montana, Idaho, Utah, Arizona, Nevada and California, with nothing but Kindle, Ortok, tunes and all her fucking stuff.

I will not be bringing Gideon so I thought ahead and did all my blogging in advance.

So, this counts. As a blog entry. Despite the fact that it's entirely disclaimer.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

In Which Timothy, In Lieu of Actual Content, Posts A Smattering Of Unrelated Occurances


Did you know, on the drive from the 19 hour drive from Missoula, MT to Los Angeles, CA, there are approximately 32 Subway outlets and 16 Pizza Hut outlets? I ask because a friend of mine–

I very nearly went to the grocery store last night in sandals, a black trenchcoat and a Jayne hat. Mind you, it was practically four in the morning, but still. I did eventually think better of it and put on actual shoes.

Also, I saw Kate Flannery on Hollywood today. First celebrity sighting. Still hoping I'll encounter Wayne Knight at Ralph's.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Cast-Iron Stomach

2 days.

Fun fact:

For a period of approximately two years, I subsided, more or less, on Ramen noodles exclusively. Maybe the occasional Chef Boyardee meal cold or a smushed lunch from the nearby college commons courtesy of a smuggler friend, but on the vast majority, instant noodles and a disturbingly high sodium level dominated my culinary palette.

Price you pay for leading a double life as both tramp and troubadour, I suppose.

The most direct consequence (beyond the ability to downshift into "battle conditions" and survive for weeks on end with nothing but water and dry Ramen bricks) is my stomach's ultimate resilience to all things placed inside it. I can, whenever presented with the opportunity, literally pig the fuck out and never feel worse for wear. I can stuff my body with all kinds of grease-laden, push-cart bought nasties from any number of less-than-savory purveyors with a smile and have, in fact, developed a taste for same.

I once described my taste in food to a friend as "anything a corrupt private detective would pad their expensive account with."

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Do You Like Websites?

3 days.

I'm a novice when it comes to website design.

That being said, for the eventual Hull Damage PR campaign and successive release, I'm gonna need one of them interpages you kids talk about. On your tweetblogs. And Googlebooks.

I've been trying my hand, ever so slightly, over the past several days at crafting a website worthy of jumpstarting the HD promotional material. (I've never really used that acronym before.) It's coming okay, he reported tentatively. I've discovered that, much like every other artistic endeavors I attempt, that it's mostly about what works. I don't really understand the system, I don't really have the skills to start from scratch and so I'm cheating, plugging and chugging effects and designs to reach the desired outcome.

It's nerve-wracking, flying by the seat of pants I don't even know how to put on.

The Hull Damage website is scheduled to launch early March (hopefully the 1st, depending on my financial situation at the time). You can bet your boots I'll spam the shit out of that link when the time comes.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012


4 days.

As of yesterday, I reached over 1,000 views on my blog. My current caluclations, with 1,006 views and 64 posts, estimate approximately 15.71875 readers. Assuming about half of those are Russian, Bosnian and Indonesian spambots, I'd like to extend a warmhearted "thank you" to all 7.859375  of my loyal, recurrent readers for listening to my swimming-and-Donkey-Kong-related palaver.

I'd also like to extend a warmhearted "I'm sorry" to all 7.859375 of you that this is the only thing I've chosen to post about today.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012


5 days.

A few days after Valentine's Day, I received a package from the missus containing, among pistachios, a coloring book, Star Wars fruit snacks and many other surprises, this bad boy.

I am vengeance. I am the night. I am four years old.

That's right, reader. You're jealous. I can feel it.

Behold the Arkham Asylum Hot Wheels Batmobile. I think it costs $1.65 and is unironically one of my favorite presents I've ever received. I will seriously derive hours and hours of enjoyment out of this. The missus knows me too well.

I've literally put on the Arkham City Soundtrack and driven around the living room, up sheer chair legs and off tabletops. For like, an hour.

Excuse me. Gotham calls.

Monday, February 20, 2012


(Pay no attention to the title. Merely an inside joke.)

So, much to my dismay, the pool within the apartment complex I squat at has recently become something a party hotspot for vacuous people to booze and cavort. This deeply distresses me, being the poolfaring sort of chap I am.

Today's attempt at swimming a dreadful failure, Dan Glaser and I have spent the day cloistered with the dailies from the teaser. We're approximately three and a half minutes into the assembly cut and, I must say, lasers, as previously stated, are cool.

Also, I have three laser guns. They were props and now, they're just laser guns.

Wonder what I'll do with those.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Phase Two: Complete

Official wrap on the Hull Damage Book Teaser*. I'll enjoy a hearty night's sleep today.

Again, no spoilers, but I'll confess that, a few times during the shooting, I may have gotten a little misty-eyed. As sappy as that may sound, there's something quite indescribable about seeing ones characters, especially characters that've lived in my head for so many years, finally given flesh. There was, on the drive yesterday, a moment where I realized that, with Steven driving and Joanna riding shotgun, Nemo and Moira were finally captain and first mate, even if only of an automobile.

I've never exactly had much head for expressing gratitude but without such gracious friends, I'd never have imagined any of this. I'm beaming today.

Triforce fo' life.

 On a related note, if you head over to my conveniently-linked fan page, you'll find an entire album of similar production stills from the previous two days of shooting, filmed (with one notable exception from Joanna) by Steven's adorable fiancé. Avail yourself.

*Officially titled, for the purposes of IMDb, as Hull Damage: First Mate.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Phase One: Complete

As I need to awaken again with tomorrow's dawn, I've very little time remaining to blog properly and I promise all ye faithful that, Monday's blog post will be immense and voluminous.

We wrapped Joanna Canton on the Hull Damage book teaser* today. A TREMENDOUS, heartfelt thank you to her for her willingness to run around and play a bounty hunter pro bono. Few and far between are professional actors down to jive for free on the level she was jiving. Thanks again, Joanna.

I'd elaborate on how well the shooting went today and explain my emotions surrounding the proceedings but, I think I'd rather let the teaser, upon its release, be the judge.

That being said, here's a silly picture for you.

The friendliest you will ever see Nemo and Moira.

We return to No'tiukki tomorrow, to grab all of Steven's coverage.

For the record, space pirates are really cool. Anybody who don't think that, there's the door.

*Which is what I'm calling it from now on. As a contained scene, "trailer"'s more than a misnomer.

Friday, February 17, 2012

I'm Too Excited To Think Of A Title So I'll Just Do This

I'd make some metaphor about storms and calms before but I ain't about to jinx this thing.

Principal photography for the Hull Damage book trailer begins tomorrow. I need to wake up at (are you ready for this) six fucking a.m.. I'd be lying if I said this wasn't to be a challenge, but I'll somehow manage.

Tonight, I anticipate a feeling akin to a seven-year-old on Christmas Eve night, waiting for the sound of creaking floorboards to confirm his suspicions. Excitement would be an understatement.

Tomorrow, pew pew lasers science fiction yo ho ho space pirates.

Thursday, February 16, 2012


A hearty congratulations to Scott McClure, Andrew DeVary, the cast, the crew and all the supporters of The Joker Blogs at achieving the titanic goal listed above in their IndieGoGo fundraiser!

Here's hoping you're all as excited for Series II as I am and, in case you're unfamiliar with the series, allow me to provide you one simple link and you ought to be hooked.

Congrats again, everyone involved!

Wednesday, February 15, 2012


If you're reading this, you have no time.

In precisely three hours, donations for The Joker Blogs Series II IndieGoGo Fundraiser will officially close. In three hours, the one-in-a-lifetime opportunity to win a 2-disc DVD set of The Joker Blogs Series I will be closed to you. Possibly forever. In three hours, everything changes.

I'm going to tell you what to do.

1. Get your credit card.
2. Go to this web address.
3. Donate an amount of your choosing.
4. Receive a correspondingly wonderful prize.

Sounds simple, doesn't it? It is. So do it.

You have three hours.


Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Lost in Transition

(Speaking of, I re-watched said film with the missus and continue to adore it.)

I'm very between things right now. Not just in an employment sense.

In one week, we shoot the book trailer.
In two weeks, my girlfriend joins me out west.
In one month, I launch an IndieGoGo to crowdfund my novel.
In four months, I release my novel.

I'm twiddling my thumbs here. I'm living in the lifetime equivalent of putting your shoes on ten minutes too early and lingering near the door for an uncomfortable amount of time before the proverbial bus shows up.

(What's more, you have less than 24 hours to donate to The Joker Blogs' IndieGoGo campaign if you want to capture one of their exclusive prizes. Best hurry!)

Monday, February 13, 2012

The Pool and His Boy

Is the jacuzzi not sacred?

Is there not a place where a man can go and flop around and pretend to be a seal without interruption? I don't care if you're bored or lonely or have Asperger's or whatever the fuck your reason is; if I'm wearing swimming trunks, I don't want to meet you and I especially don't want to engage in small talk with you.

I'd rather pretend to be a seal, thanks. Humans are dumb.

Sunday, February 12, 2012


Caught Nicolas Winding Refn's latest the other day, after much waiting and hand-wringing. Thought I'd jot down my thoughts, as per local custom.

Drive's script is risky. Reports indicate that Gosling, the star, actually requested his character to have less dialogue than initially appeared in the script and, while this works absolute wonders for the film's pacing, it makes the characterization suffer somewhat. With so little expositional information offered about the protagonist, by the movie's halfway point, where he's revealed to an exceptionally violent character, there's a certain disconnect and I can't, after several days of mulling it over, say that it's necessarily a positive one.

This being said, the movie's pacing is so killer than missed opportunities like this don't occur until hours after watching the film. By drawing dialogue out as drastically as it does, Drive makes every since word count; something difficult to come by in modern scriptwriting. Totally worth viewing and my second favorite script of 2011.* (Plus phenomenal direction and stellar acting too.)

(*For the record, number one is McDonagh's The Guard, two is Drive and three is Farr & Lochhead's Hanna.)

Saturday, February 11, 2012


I assure you, faithful reader, there was once a post here.

For undisclosed reasons not entirely unrelated to Blogger's ridiculously circuitous blog format, I had to delete said post.

So, congrats, reader. You've found a hole in reality.


Friday, February 10, 2012

Molony as Morel

I awoke at 9:36 AM this morning. Like a man.

Then, with two other men, I drove out to the middle of fucking nowhere, Hunter S. Thompson-style, and ran about in the desert with toy guns, going "ZAP!" at each other.

In other words, we did a location scout/camera test.

His shoes aren't correct (edit: or apparently pictured) and the camera had some diffusion issues, but here, for your dining and dancing pleasure, is Steven Molony as Nehel "Nemo" Morel.

Everything's a little soooooft focus.
Look! Outside! We've been there!

I've also made another plain-jane dart shooter into a totes Xtreme laser pistol, but pictures of that'll have to wait. I'm currently redesigning the interior of my spaceship.

For work. Seriously.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Pew Pew

Apologies for the lateness of the post. I'm gonna admit my error and confess that I'm technically posting this on the 9th, but activities of a bad and ass nature kept me from blogging until this moment.

Though it seems far-off, Hull Damage's release date is creeping ever closer and I'm attempting, each day, to accomplish something towards this goal. Today, work was fucking accomplished. I used my hands and crafted something sweet where once was something lame. Behold!

Take one childish toy dart blaster...

and, thanks to this video, it becomes a totally kick-butt ray gun!

(The above gun also isn't totally finished, if you'll note the orange interior of the barrel. We were simply too excited to wait until it was done.)

With two cans of spray paint, a dinky-looking toy dart shooter and a dirty sock, you too can hang up your shingle in the interstellar arms market, peddling ditrogen-powered firearms on the local black market.

Well? How many laser pistols have you made today?

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

This Joke Will Never Die

Like a phoenix from the ashes of Timothy J. Builderguy, Timothy J. Smugglerguy emerges.

An exceedingly generous friend of mine permitted me to invade his apartment and sample The Old Republic for way too many hours this evening. Thusly, I apologize for the lateness of the post.

But now I'm a Twi'lek smuggler with a blaster pistol, a bad attitude and swanky leather pants.

In other news, I've created an impromptu Facebook cover image for Hull Damage for the spiffy new Timeline design. If anybody feels like posting it themselves for publicity's sake, I'll, you know, consider sending them a properly sized copy.

In still other news, I was recently contracted to write a treatment for a Russian spy comedy. Huzzah money for screenwriting, my actual fucking profession.

Monday, February 6, 2012

Timothy J. Builderguy's Last Stand

Today, I pulled 109 feet of unlubed fish tape with my bare hands. I am Timothy J. Builderguy.

But also today, Timothy J. Builder hangs up his hardhat. At least for now. Because he can take it. Because he's the builderguy San Luis Obispo deserves, but not the one it needs right now. Because he's not our builderguy. He's a silent muscledude. A watchful lifterman. A dark builderguy.

Assume that my normative blogging duties shall return come the morrow. For now, hot tubs and sleeps.

(Also, Kris Straub said he'll watch out for my movie and book. Probably nothing to concern yourself with.)

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Wake Me Up Before You IndieGoGo?

I don't know, man. I'm fucking trying.

I realized today, during my arduous hours of physical labor, that I hadn't yet mentioned to my droves of devotees that a certain fundraiser I support recently reached it's goal!

A little over a week remains and I'd recommend making your donations now, as it'll possibly be your last chance to snag certain prizes, such as a Season One DVD.

My muscles ache. It hurts my poor, cramped hands to continue typing. Such is the plight of the proletariat blogger.

Tomorrow, Timothy J. Builderguy falls.

(Also, Kris Straub +1'd my Google+ comment. No big deal.)

Saturday, February 4, 2012

That's Not How That's Pronounced

Rant time.

This is something that's been irking me for the past several weeks and, over the last few days, it's only increased in urgency.

I'm not trying to be a dick but, for the last time, this is how the word "synecdoche" is fucking pronounced.

Am I right? Jesus Christ.

Friday, February 3, 2012

Mad Fat Stacks, Yo

doooo DOOOO doooo DOO doo. dooo DOOO bumbumbumbum ba bum shakeshakeshake.

I think I've cracked the formula for this show's dialogue.


JESSE PINKMAN: "We're gonna make mad fat stacks, yo!"
WALTER WHITE: "Mad fat stacks, Jesse?"
JESSE PINKMAN: "Yeah, Mr. White, you know, dead presidents."
WALTER WHITE: "Dead presidents, Jesse?"

Lather, rinse, repeat.

I'm doing my best to catch the missus up on Season Three by the time she moves out. That being said, as she's only five episodes into Season Two, I've no time to blog.

Tomorrow? Timothy J. Builderguy flies solo.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

"I Can't Believe How Tight This Is."

Today I earn my Adult Content disclaimer.

"Wanna give it a tug?"
"I can't get it in – it's too slippery."
"All you need is lube."
"My hand is cramping up."
"It doesn't matter how hard I push - it just won't come."

All of these statements, including the one I surrogated as a title, and many, many more were stated, in a perfectly innocent, non-sexual manner while pulling and feeding cable in this hotel job I'm working the rest of the weekend. I have come to the conclusion that, while doing electrical work, it is literally impossible to avoid a rate of one sexual innuendo per two minutes. Impossible.

It also doesn't help that the outlet boxes into which we're feeding or stringing cable are approximately waist high and often situated in corners, resulting in four grown men, standing in different rooms in an unoccupied hotel, making repeated, less-than-discreet pulling and pushing gestures.

Warned ya.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Timm Sharp Joins Safety

Well, it's pseudo-official now.

Timm Sharp, of HBO's Golden Globe-nominated Enlightened, has, as of this afternoon, been attached to Safety, for one of the lead roles. Now, for those of you who haven't the bleedingest what that means, lemme elaborate, as I just learned the difference myself today.

As we currently have zero budget for Safety, we can't make any official offers to actors, as they tend not to accept pretend or hypothetical money. That being said, he's read the script, is very excited and has agreed to play the role of Buzz, the hitman's shell-shocked and chronically unemployed son.

There's still much negotiation and contracts and legalese to be worked through but, this is an important step and I've elected to enjoy a Hawaiian pizza in celebration.