Season One is done. There will be a brief hiatus before Season Two begins.
I am still unemployed. I feel that I am about to cross that bridge into not-funny-anymore territory very soon. Don't misunderstand. I am working a lot. I have several projects in the works, all of which are exciting and new and almost cripplingly ambitious. Also, one of my scripts made it into the second round of consideration for the Sundance Screenwriters' Lab. The deadline to send in my final draft is very soon so I've been working diligently on my rewrite. (Now I get to say that I have the near-approval of Sundance. Or, more succintly, "SUNDANCE, MOTHERFUCKER.")
To top it all off, I'm moving to a new apartment at the end of the month.
The Captive Man has been good for me. It keeps me busy, for one thing, but it also allows me to practice and grow. Here are a couple of things I've learned:
1. The best method for applying peanut butter to your dog's balls is to use the back side of the spoon - the convex side. This allows for a smooth peanut-butter-to-scrotum transfer.
2. I love writing. Truthfully, I've always known this about myself but I suppose now I've learned to extract joy from it. To paraphrase Bradley Whitford, in my everyday life I feel like I'm swimming against the current, when I'm writing I feel like I'm surfing.
We'll be back soon!
Home of the Victory Shower
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Master Race
The Captive Man - Episode 13: Master Race from Christopher Kim on Vimeo.
Dog breeders baffle me. Their customers baffle me. And any time people talk about purity when it comes to bloodlines, my face reflexively transforms into a disapproving glare.I adopted Keaton from the Austin Humane Society. I knew he was the one pretty much right away. When I stuck my hand in the slot at the bottom of the cage, he laid down and pressed his back into it so that I could more easily pet him.
I cannot imagine that a purebred dog could provide me with anymore warmth or love. I certainly would not pay thousands of dollars to a breeder to find out.
There are so many dogs out there worthy of our love. They are crowding our shelters. Don't be stupid. If you're looking for a pet, adopt from your local shelter.
Now then. Holocaust jokes for everyone!
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
For MacMillan's Consideration
This could've been an angry blog post, you know. Because wouldn't any self-respecting writer be horrified that such a thing as MacMillan Readers exist?
MacMillan Readers, in case you're unaware, are "retellings" of great works of literature. They use "simplified" language. (I'm sorry I'm using so many quotation marks. It's a defense mechanism.) As if a novel or a play were nothing but its plot. This is the equivalent of taking a sumptuous five-course meal, boiling down all its nutritional content into a pill, and expecting us not to care about the difference.
Language has a profound effect on the very way we think. You know where I learned that? A book called 1984 in which the evil powers-that-be rewrite all literature in a new language called "Newspeak," which strives to simplify the English language to the most basic phrases and words. Why? To limit the thoughts of its citizens so they can be more easily controlled. It should be noted that 1984 is conspicuously unavailable as a MacMillan Reader.
But I'm a realist. This is the way the world works. When we feel that we're struggling to meet a certain standard, we simply lower it. What I mean to say is: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
Therefore, I am proposing that MacMillan no longer limit themselves to literature. I would like to be at the forefront of this expansion. Our students need us to lower standards in every subject. After all, how else will they learn?
For MacMillan's consideration:
MacMillan Readers, in case you're unaware, are "retellings" of great works of literature. They use "simplified" language. (I'm sorry I'm using so many quotation marks. It's a defense mechanism.) As if a novel or a play were nothing but its plot. This is the equivalent of taking a sumptuous five-course meal, boiling down all its nutritional content into a pill, and expecting us not to care about the difference.
Language has a profound effect on the very way we think. You know where I learned that? A book called 1984 in which the evil powers-that-be rewrite all literature in a new language called "Newspeak," which strives to simplify the English language to the most basic phrases and words. Why? To limit the thoughts of its citizens so they can be more easily controlled. It should be noted that 1984 is conspicuously unavailable as a MacMillan Reader.
But I'm a realist. This is the way the world works. When we feel that we're struggling to meet a certain standard, we simply lower it. What I mean to say is: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
Therefore, I am proposing that MacMillan no longer limit themselves to literature. I would like to be at the forefront of this expansion. Our students need us to lower standards in every subject. After all, how else will they learn?
For MacMillan's consideration:
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Dear J&J Towing
Author's Note: I posted an abridged version of this letter as a Yelp review for the company in question. See it here.
Dear J&J Towing,
On Saturday, April 16, 2011, you towed my Honda Fit out of the parking lot of an apartment complex on Riverside Drive. It had a very nice sweater in it. It wasn't cashmere but it was nice, and it accentuated my arms. You may think, "How could it possibly have accentuated your arms?" to which I can only reply, "By making them look sexier than they are." I had taken it off because I was going to a crawfish boil, and I didn't want to ruin it because it was a nice sweater and it accentuated my arms.
The crawfish boil itself was fairly fun, though you should know that I'm not usually a very social person. I had just had a Big Red, though, so I was caffeinated and caffeine has always lowered my inhibitions in a way that alcohol never really could. So I was more talkative than usual, which was probably nice for my friends.
I might add that this was my first social outing after having lost my job a few days prior.
Dear J&J Towing,
On Saturday, April 16, 2011, you towed my Honda Fit out of the parking lot of an apartment complex on Riverside Drive. It had a very nice sweater in it. It wasn't cashmere but it was nice, and it accentuated my arms. You may think, "How could it possibly have accentuated your arms?" to which I can only reply, "By making them look sexier than they are." I had taken it off because I was going to a crawfish boil, and I didn't want to ruin it because it was a nice sweater and it accentuated my arms.
The crawfish boil itself was fairly fun, though you should know that I'm not usually a very social person. I had just had a Big Red, though, so I was caffeinated and caffeine has always lowered my inhibitions in a way that alcohol never really could. So I was more talkative than usual, which was probably nice for my friends.
I might add that this was my first social outing after having lost my job a few days prior.
Monday, July 4, 2011
For a Friend
Author's Note: This essay was written shortly after my car went missing on April 16, 2011. A follow-up essay will be published later this week.
You have never let me down. This is one of those facts that escape one's notice until it is too late.
Remember when I worked at FedEx? Working in 120 degree trailers, making walls of boxes. I'd come out every day, my clothes soaked completely through with sweat. I sat in your seat, laid my head back and let the air conditioner do its work. I sweated into your seats.
This continued when I moved to Texas with its sweltering summers. I fit all of my meager belongings into you - a feat that I bragged about any time someone asked about you. I didn't need an SUV or a moving truck. I had you and my mad Tetris skills.
Remember when I got Keaton? How, on that drive home from the shelter, he kept stepping on me to look out the driver's side window? Keaton will miss you, too, I think. As much as I sweated into your seats, his fur has married itself to your upholstery. It is a part of you that no vacuum can remove.
This past Saturday, on my last day of work my mom witnessed me crying for the first time in many years. But who was it that let me hide in its shell and let me shed a few tears in private first? I blared "All My Friends," didn't I? As loud as I could. It's a great song, and it always sounded especially great when it came from your speakers - that repeating piano, that repeating bass, James Murphy's insistent voice - as it all bounced around in your small interior. I could feel the music in my chest. Even now, listening to the same song on my fancy surround sound system at home, it isn't the same. It's the difference between hearing your friend play a song next to you, and hearing that same song in an empty arena. The urgency evaporates. You don't feel the body heat rising.
I know you're just a car. I know this sounds like a goddamn Honda ad. I know that I'll probably never see you again, or if I do you will be unrecognizably traumatized. I have learned that there is not enough good in the world. I have learned it suddenly and completely.
But at least I can say that - for a few years, anyway - I had a good car.
You have never let me down. This is one of those facts that escape one's notice until it is too late.
Remember when I worked at FedEx? Working in 120 degree trailers, making walls of boxes. I'd come out every day, my clothes soaked completely through with sweat. I sat in your seat, laid my head back and let the air conditioner do its work. I sweated into your seats.
This continued when I moved to Texas with its sweltering summers. I fit all of my meager belongings into you - a feat that I bragged about any time someone asked about you. I didn't need an SUV or a moving truck. I had you and my mad Tetris skills.
Remember when I got Keaton? How, on that drive home from the shelter, he kept stepping on me to look out the driver's side window? Keaton will miss you, too, I think. As much as I sweated into your seats, his fur has married itself to your upholstery. It is a part of you that no vacuum can remove.
This past Saturday, on my last day of work my mom witnessed me crying for the first time in many years. But who was it that let me hide in its shell and let me shed a few tears in private first? I blared "All My Friends," didn't I? As loud as I could. It's a great song, and it always sounded especially great when it came from your speakers - that repeating piano, that repeating bass, James Murphy's insistent voice - as it all bounced around in your small interior. I could feel the music in my chest. Even now, listening to the same song on my fancy surround sound system at home, it isn't the same. It's the difference between hearing your friend play a song next to you, and hearing that same song in an empty arena. The urgency evaporates. You don't feel the body heat rising.
I know you're just a car. I know this sounds like a goddamn Honda ad. I know that I'll probably never see you again, or if I do you will be unrecognizably traumatized. I have learned that there is not enough good in the world. I have learned it suddenly and completely.
But at least I can say that - for a few years, anyway - I had a good car.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Point/Counterpoint
The Captive Man: Episode 11 - Point/Counterpoint from Christopher Kim on Vimeo.
People don't know how to argue anymore. The word "argue" even has a negative connotation. You're picturing people getting red in the face, suppressing their rage with all their might.
The art of arguing is dead, and it is no Lazarus. One wonders how any government functions at all when you consider basic human psychology. Did you know that when your beliefs are challenged with cold, hard facts, your factually incorrect beliefs actually get stronger?
It's no surprise then that some of the most powerful people in the world still think that a basic scientific principle like evolution is debatable, and that complete mumbo jumbo like Intelligent Design should be taught in school. (After Intro to Astrology but before Secrets of The Secret, I would assume.)
And, just so you know, I have a lot of practical experience. I live in Austin. I've spent countless hours trying to convince conspiracy theorists that that contrail in the sky is actually from a normal jet, not some mysterious rocket sent to doom us all. It's exhausting.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Tone Poem
The Captive Man - Episode 10: Tone Poem from Christopher Kim on Vimeo.
Thank you to our special guest star Moon Ray for her able assistance. I forgot how fun it can be to make films with, y'know, humans.
The film-within-the-film you see here is based on my college efforts. I suppose in the universe of The Captive Man, the character of Chris Kim never evolved beyond his film school style. Most of my film school shorts followed a similar formula: black-and-white photography, no dialogue, lots of ridiculously overwritten voiceover. The plots varied. One was about an Asian guy who wakes up one day to discover that he's turned white, another was an unbelievably convoluted story about a rain god and a mystical girl who only appears when it rains. I know these sound like sketch ideas but I assure you these stories were approached with unshakeable sincerity. Hey. Shut the hell up. It was film school.
I could never, and will never, watch those films again. To my credit, I really went for it each time. Just be glad that I'm no longer making such self-absorbed films. Now onto the show entirely about me!
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
First Funeral
About halfway through digging the grave, I realized that I had picked a bad plot of land. I can only blame my inexperience and a desire to get it done as quickly as possible.
It was next to the garden which at the time struck me as simultaneously practical and romantic. The soft dirt would make digging easy, and the thought that the body would fuel the growth of the lettuce and carrots of the garden felt beautifully cyclical in a way that strongly appealed to the Lion King-tinted philosophy of my youth.
If I had not dug so close to the stone walkway - that is to say, if I hadn't dug directly next to the stone walkway - everything would've worked out fine. As it were, when I had reached the two foot mark, I began worrying that I might be undermining the stability of the heavy stone slabs.
It was next to the garden which at the time struck me as simultaneously practical and romantic. The soft dirt would make digging easy, and the thought that the body would fuel the growth of the lettuce and carrots of the garden felt beautifully cyclical in a way that strongly appealed to the Lion King-tinted philosophy of my youth.
If I had not dug so close to the stone walkway - that is to say, if I hadn't dug directly next to the stone walkway - everything would've worked out fine. As it were, when I had reached the two foot mark, I began worrying that I might be undermining the stability of the heavy stone slabs.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Field Sobriety Test
Immediately following the one and only field sobriety test that I've ever taken, I was as talkative as I've ever been. This is because I may have still been drunk.
What's odd is that I'm not a talkative drunk. I am very much the classically reserved drunk. My thoughts slow as if the electrical currents in my head are struggling to jump from one conductive idea to another. I am conscious of this so my defense is to shut the hell up. Far from lowering my inhibitions, I batten the hatches, determined as ever not to reveal my undeniable, underlying stupidity.
My first taste of this, my first taste of alcohol was in college. I was twenty-one. It was a Bud Light. It was terrible. I am a late bloomer in almost every regard, and all the touchstones, the universal milestones that we measure our lives by - first drink, first kiss, first funeral - have arrived later for me than for nearly everyone else.
Don't think, either, that because I waited until after I was twenty-one that I am some stringent adherent to the law. It just happened to work out that way. (In fact, I will admit that I felt a thrilling chill in my spine when a friend of mine told me she regularly steals expensive cheeses from the grocery store.)
"Have you had anything to drink tonight?" the officer asked. About thirty feet behind me, sitting on the curb, was a pretty, young girl who had just slammed her bicycle into the side of my rental car on the intersection of Congress and Cesar Chavez.
"Yes, sir. One beer," I replied. I have gotten into the habit of using "sir" and "ma'am" ever since I moved to Texas. Always count on an Asian to assimilate quickly.
What's odd is that I'm not a talkative drunk. I am very much the classically reserved drunk. My thoughts slow as if the electrical currents in my head are struggling to jump from one conductive idea to another. I am conscious of this so my defense is to shut the hell up. Far from lowering my inhibitions, I batten the hatches, determined as ever not to reveal my undeniable, underlying stupidity.
My first taste of this, my first taste of alcohol was in college. I was twenty-one. It was a Bud Light. It was terrible. I am a late bloomer in almost every regard, and all the touchstones, the universal milestones that we measure our lives by - first drink, first kiss, first funeral - have arrived later for me than for nearly everyone else.
Don't think, either, that because I waited until after I was twenty-one that I am some stringent adherent to the law. It just happened to work out that way. (In fact, I will admit that I felt a thrilling chill in my spine when a friend of mine told me she regularly steals expensive cheeses from the grocery store.)
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Asian Culinary Traditions
The Captive Man - Episode 9: Asian Culinary Traditions from Christopher Kim on Vimeo.
I was a restaurant baby. I spent a good deal of my childhood in the kitchen of our parents' Chinese restaurant. I gained a lot of memories and just a couple of scars from those days.
If I close my eyes, I can still hear the overwhelming din of that busy kitchen, smell the garlic on my clothes.
There was a storage area in the back. Its shelves were packed with giant cans of water chestnuts and baby corn and Hoisin sauce. There was no light back there. I used to challenge myself to stand in the very back, blind in the dark, for as long as possible just to see what I could endure, see how long I could push back the panic. It was never very long.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Productivity Meeting
INT. MANAGER’S OFFICE - DAY
MR. LUCAS, the CEO, is having a conversation with STEPHEN MONTGOMERY HAMMERSMITH, the manager.
LUCAS
Thanks for coming in, Stephen.
STEPHEN
My pleasure.
LUCAS
I just wanted to touch base with you, see how things were going.
STEPHEN
Everything’s great.
LUCAS
Great! I wanted you to know that we all think you’re doing a great job.
STEPHEN
Thank you.
LUCAS
I also wanted to let you know that we’re going to be increasing the workload by fifteen percent while keeping staffing levels the same.
STEPHEN
Oh okay. Thanks for the heads up. I don’t know what you’re going to do with that extra fifteen of work that’s being left undone. That’s going to hit the profit margin pretty severely I would think.
LUCAS
Oh...well...sorry if there was any confusion. We will be increasing the workload by fifteen percent but the expectation is that you and your crew will be able to complete all of it.
STEPHEN
Pfft, duh, sorry, I’m an idiot. Yeah, I was a little confused. That’s fine, though. I look forward to our pay raises!
LUCAS
No, um--
STEPHEN
Actually, in lieu of a pay raise could I upgrade my health plan? I’ve got this UTI that’s burning like it’s herpes. Actually, it might even be herpes. Either way, I’d rather not pay for that visit. I’m paying enough in shame, amirite?
LUCAS
To be clear, there will be no increase in pay or benefits. We will increase your workload by fifteen percent starting immediately. If you cannot step up as the leader of the warehouse and get it done, we will be forced to reevaluate whether you are the right fit for your position.
Stephen sighs and furrows his brow. Then he grimaces and shifts in his chair.
STEPHEN
Yeah, it’s definitely herpes.
LUCAS
I would see a doctor about that.
MR. LUCAS, the CEO, is having a conversation with STEPHEN MONTGOMERY HAMMERSMITH, the manager.
LUCAS
Thanks for coming in, Stephen.
STEPHEN
My pleasure.
LUCAS
I just wanted to touch base with you, see how things were going.
STEPHEN
Everything’s great.
LUCAS
Great! I wanted you to know that we all think you’re doing a great job.
STEPHEN
Thank you.
LUCAS
I also wanted to let you know that we’re going to be increasing the workload by fifteen percent while keeping staffing levels the same.
STEPHEN
Oh okay. Thanks for the heads up. I don’t know what you’re going to do with that extra fifteen of work that’s being left undone. That’s going to hit the profit margin pretty severely I would think.
LUCAS
Oh...well...sorry if there was any confusion. We will be increasing the workload by fifteen percent but the expectation is that you and your crew will be able to complete all of it.
STEPHEN
Pfft, duh, sorry, I’m an idiot. Yeah, I was a little confused. That’s fine, though. I look forward to our pay raises!
LUCAS
No, um--
STEPHEN
Actually, in lieu of a pay raise could I upgrade my health plan? I’ve got this UTI that’s burning like it’s herpes. Actually, it might even be herpes. Either way, I’d rather not pay for that visit. I’m paying enough in shame, amirite?
LUCAS
To be clear, there will be no increase in pay or benefits. We will increase your workload by fifteen percent starting immediately. If you cannot step up as the leader of the warehouse and get it done, we will be forced to reevaluate whether you are the right fit for your position.
Stephen sighs and furrows his brow. Then he grimaces and shifts in his chair.
STEPHEN
Yeah, it’s definitely herpes.
LUCAS
I would see a doctor about that.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Supply Reorder
From: Stephen Montgomery Hammersmith
To: Vline Supplies
Subject: Supply Delay
Dear Sir or Madame,
This is my fifth attempt to contact you about the supplies I ordered. I've yet to receive a reply. Is it possible that your mail client has automatically added me to your spam list? If so, I ask that you consider changing mail clients. Any software that considers investment opportunities for the Penny-Up™ to be "spam" is woefully misprogrammed.
(What is the Penny-Up™? The Penny-Up™ is a combination smelting/molding machine that can melt down and remold fifty pennies into a single quarter. The Penny-Up™ isn't just convenient, it's the right thing to do.©)
It is of vital importance that I get the supplies I ordered ASAP. Some people are complaining about the lack of tampons. You may rush order the tampons separately if that is more convenient for you.
Please also rush order the disinfectant.
It is of vital importance that you respond ASAP. If you are a woman, please feel free to contact me by phone. If you are a man, email is fine.
Professionally/sincerely yours,
Stephen Montgomery Hammersmith
PS: Investment opportunities for the Penny-Up are still available but going fast. Ante Up for the Penny-Up™!©
To: Vline Supplies
Subject: Supply Delay
Dear Sir or Madame,
This is my fifth attempt to contact you about the supplies I ordered. I've yet to receive a reply. Is it possible that your mail client has automatically added me to your spam list? If so, I ask that you consider changing mail clients. Any software that considers investment opportunities for the Penny-Up™ to be "spam" is woefully misprogrammed.
(What is the Penny-Up™? The Penny-Up™ is a combination smelting/molding machine that can melt down and remold fifty pennies into a single quarter. The Penny-Up™ isn't just convenient, it's the right thing to do.©)
It is of vital importance that I get the supplies I ordered ASAP. Some people are complaining about the lack of tampons. You may rush order the tampons separately if that is more convenient for you.
Please also rush order the disinfectant.
It is of vital importance that you respond ASAP. If you are a woman, please feel free to contact me by phone. If you are a man, email is fine.
Professionally/sincerely yours,
Stephen Montgomery Hammersmith
PS: Investment opportunities for the Penny-Up are still available but going fast. Ante Up for the Penny-Up™!©
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Reappropriation
The Captive Man - Episode 8: Reappropriation from Christopher Kim on Vimeo.
We are all held back by societal expectations. We are labeled, and we cannot change our labels despite our fiercest efforts. We are what they say we are. We are held prisoner by the labels and definitions of an indifferent world.
This video is about none of those things. It has a telepathic dog in it instead and a joke about bowties.
Music by Mozart.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
From: Stephen Montgomery Hammersmith
To: Chris Kim
Subject: Interview
Dear Mr. Kim,
Thank you for your interest but, unfortunately, we are unable to offer you a position at this time. You kind of weirded us out. You weren't like axe-murderer-weird but, y'know, a little more sustained eye contact wouldn't have killed you. I hope this isn't what pushes you over the edge, though. That would be teeeerible. For me, specifically. Again, I'm not saying you're necessarily capable of murder but I could see you maybe working me over with a hammer. Have you ever seen Oldboy? Wait, is that racist? It's hard to tell nowadays, isn't it? Well, to make a long story short: REJECTION! Ha! I was hearing the NBA Jam announcer voice in my head just now. Man, what a fucking game. For real.
Professionally/sincerely yours,
Stephen Montgomery Hammersmith
PS: BOOMSHAKALAKA!!!
PPS: Please sign and return the attached document that clarifies that I am not currently a racist.
To: Chris Kim
Subject: Interview
Dear Mr. Kim,
Thank you for your interest but, unfortunately, we are unable to offer you a position at this time. You kind of weirded us out. You weren't like axe-murderer-weird but, y'know, a little more sustained eye contact wouldn't have killed you. I hope this isn't what pushes you over the edge, though. That would be teeeerible. For me, specifically. Again, I'm not saying you're necessarily capable of murder but I could see you maybe working me over with a hammer. Have you ever seen Oldboy? Wait, is that racist? It's hard to tell nowadays, isn't it? Well, to make a long story short: REJECTION! Ha! I was hearing the NBA Jam announcer voice in my head just now. Man, what a fucking game. For real.
Professionally/sincerely yours,
Stephen Montgomery Hammersmith
PS: BOOMSHAKALAKA!!!
PPS: Please sign and return the attached document that clarifies that I am not currently a racist.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Top Ten Things About Being Unemployed
1). You get to rewatch and rediscover Cheers. It's actually a very warm-hearted, hilarious show, you realize. Of course, being a sitcom, you'll get ridiculous episodes like the one where Diane is forced to marry Sam because her dead father wrote a stipulation in his will that he would cut off funds to her mother if Diane didn't get married exactly ten years after his death. But I can forgive that. You always forgive family.
2). Movies are suddenly really different to you. You grow bored and restless during most summer blockbusters, predicting plot points way in advance, growing irritated at the fact that every woman in the movie is, at some point, half-naked for no good reason, getting annoyed that not one of the five credited screenwriters bothered making any of the peripheral characters interesting and instead allowed them to be defined by their hair color and/or race. Conversely, you can watch a Slow-Ass Movie like "Meek's Cutoff" without falling asleep and actually fully appreciate what it's trying to do.
3). Tired? Take a nap.
4). Related: you're pretty much never tired.
5). Remember reading? You get to do a lot of that. You had forgotten how engrossing and rewarding of an experience it is to rip through a book in a day.
6). You have the time and energy to learn all those things you've never had the time and energy to learn. Remember in Groundhog Day when Bill Murray learns to play the piano with his infinite time? You learned After Effects. It's a strangely empowering feeling knowing that you can do some basic special effects now. You hunger to make films again. You haven't felt that in a long time.
7). You feel a genuine sense of self-confidence for the first time in a long time because you're doing what you love. You're not making any money doing it but goddamn is it wonderful that your main concerns on any given day are all related to making short films.
8). You're writing again. And, if you can be frank, it's mostly good. In fact, you've started a novel knowing full well you will probably never finish it. But you feel good about it. It's a good story and you love all the characters in it, even the villain who you named after your last boss. In your novel he will be a lost soul who never felt like he belonged. This is probably true for his real life counterpart. You forgive him. That ends up feeling pretty good.
9). Everything becomes a joke. Or, rather, you're thinking of good jokes all the time. You think they're good, anyway. Like when you started riffing about tubers. ("You call that a sweet potato?")
10). You deeply admire how the cashier at the grocery store is keeping the line at the express lane under control. You stop short of telling her this because you don't want her to think you're flirting because you aren't. You just really admire how good she is at her job, and you think she should hear it. She probably never hears it, not even from her bosses, especially not from her bosses. You even admire the way she tells the customer after you - who has way more than ten items - that next time she should go to a non-express lane. She somehow says it without sounding rude, yet with an unyielding tone that lets you know that if you ever happen to run into that customer again it will be in a non-express lane. You have to figure that among the world's population, this cashier in front of you is probably in the top one percent. This makes her as good at her job as Michael Jordan was at his. You smile at her as she hands you your receipt. She smiles back. You walk to your car wishing you had told her, "You're doing a great job, by the way." Those would've been the exact words you would've used. Nothing more, nothing less. She would've thanked you, maybe held a delicate hand to her chest. She'd tear up just a little, just enough to put a shine in her eyes, and she would've gone home to her kids or her boyfriend or her girlfriend that night and smile at them and just watch them. They'd feel her eyes on them and feel loved. And you would've walked out of the store thinking of your old co-workers and how you wish you would've said those same words to them more often. Because they were awesome, weren't they? Yeah. They were pretty much the best. Top one percent, easy.
2). Movies are suddenly really different to you. You grow bored and restless during most summer blockbusters, predicting plot points way in advance, growing irritated at the fact that every woman in the movie is, at some point, half-naked for no good reason, getting annoyed that not one of the five credited screenwriters bothered making any of the peripheral characters interesting and instead allowed them to be defined by their hair color and/or race. Conversely, you can watch a Slow-Ass Movie like "Meek's Cutoff" without falling asleep and actually fully appreciate what it's trying to do.
3). Tired? Take a nap.
4). Related: you're pretty much never tired.
5). Remember reading? You get to do a lot of that. You had forgotten how engrossing and rewarding of an experience it is to rip through a book in a day.
6). You have the time and energy to learn all those things you've never had the time and energy to learn. Remember in Groundhog Day when Bill Murray learns to play the piano with his infinite time? You learned After Effects. It's a strangely empowering feeling knowing that you can do some basic special effects now. You hunger to make films again. You haven't felt that in a long time.
7). You feel a genuine sense of self-confidence for the first time in a long time because you're doing what you love. You're not making any money doing it but goddamn is it wonderful that your main concerns on any given day are all related to making short films.
8). You're writing again. And, if you can be frank, it's mostly good. In fact, you've started a novel knowing full well you will probably never finish it. But you feel good about it. It's a good story and you love all the characters in it, even the villain who you named after your last boss. In your novel he will be a lost soul who never felt like he belonged. This is probably true for his real life counterpart. You forgive him. That ends up feeling pretty good.
9). Everything becomes a joke. Or, rather, you're thinking of good jokes all the time. You think they're good, anyway. Like when you started riffing about tubers. ("You call that a sweet potato?")
10). You deeply admire how the cashier at the grocery store is keeping the line at the express lane under control. You stop short of telling her this because you don't want her to think you're flirting because you aren't. You just really admire how good she is at her job, and you think she should hear it. She probably never hears it, not even from her bosses, especially not from her bosses. You even admire the way she tells the customer after you - who has way more than ten items - that next time she should go to a non-express lane. She somehow says it without sounding rude, yet with an unyielding tone that lets you know that if you ever happen to run into that customer again it will be in a non-express lane. You have to figure that among the world's population, this cashier in front of you is probably in the top one percent. This makes her as good at her job as Michael Jordan was at his. You smile at her as she hands you your receipt. She smiles back. You walk to your car wishing you had told her, "You're doing a great job, by the way." Those would've been the exact words you would've used. Nothing more, nothing less. She would've thanked you, maybe held a delicate hand to her chest. She'd tear up just a little, just enough to put a shine in her eyes, and she would've gone home to her kids or her boyfriend or her girlfriend that night and smile at them and just watch them. They'd feel her eyes on them and feel loved. And you would've walked out of the store thinking of your old co-workers and how you wish you would've said those same words to them more often. Because they were awesome, weren't they? Yeah. They were pretty much the best. Top one percent, easy.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Rejection
The Captive Man - Episode 7: Rejection from Christopher Kim on Vimeo.
Every job interview is a chance at a new life, a chance to feel worthy and wanted again.
It takes a lot of will to tell those many who refuse you that yes, you are good, yes, you are capable of great things. It takes a lot of will to do that when you pour your heart into resume after resume, interview after interview, only to get a curt, brief email reply that always begins with, "Thank you for your interest but."
When you're unemployed, rejection isn't a steady drop of water on a cave floor. It is a tidal wave, and you are you - a ragdoll in the face of overwhelming, malevolent force. To survive takes luck, grit, and a willful ignorance of the odds.
That, or a good dog.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Three Minutes Later
The Captive Man - Episode 4: Three Minutes Later from Christopher Kim on Vimeo.
Please welcome Daniel Blanchard and Keaton to the cast!
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Voice of the Unemployed
So there's this girl, right? You're really hitting it off with her. She laughs at your jokes, she smiles when you come back from the bathroom, she hasn't said that you remind her of her brother yet. Then she asks you what you do.
Here's the thing: there's no greater boner buster than telling a girl you're unemployed.
How do we unemployed folks do it then? How will we win her heart?
Here's the thing: there's no greater boner buster than telling a girl you're unemployed.
How do we unemployed folks do it then? How will we win her heart?
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Voice of the Unemployed
Make no mistake. Leaving a job is an emotional upheaval. It is a razing of your way of life, and there is precious little support to help you rebuild. Friends you once saw forty hours a week are suddenly absent from your life. Your sense of purpose evaporates, and with it your self-esteem.
Your days seem endless.
There are a lot of things I miss about my job. I reached out to the unemployed community this week to see what they missed most.
Your days seem endless.
There are a lot of things I miss about my job. I reached out to the unemployed community this week to see what they missed most.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Near Death
The Captive Man - Episode 2: Near Death from Christopher Kim on Vimeo.
Music by Philip Glass.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Voice of the Unemployed
To gain further insight into what it's like to be unemployed, I will reach out to the unemployed community every week and poll them on various questions in a segment I'm going to call Voice of the Unemployed. I will publish the results here.
Roll your mouse over the sections of the pie chart to get the full text.
Roll your mouse over the sections of the pie chart to get the full text.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
An Introduction
This video blog is about capturing the stray observations I've made as an unemployed man, a captive man.
It will feature short (30 seconds or so) videos that express what it's like to be in this peculiar state of limbo. I believe this will be less terrible than it sounds.
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