Zzzz-Mail

Since you follow our Twitter feed (which you can find here) this will probably be old news to you- but whatever, let's pretend you aren't following our Twitter feed (which you can find here).

A while ago we complained about the fact that Twitter has yet to develop a way to "tweet" while sleeping. (See our original post here)

Then Twitterer yurigoul replied that he thinks Sleep Twittering would be Followed by Sleep Second Lifing. (See original post here)

Then we said "They'd call it Second Life of the Mind"- which we thought was pretty damn clever. (See original post here)

And then- and this is sort of the point of this article. He directed us to this article about a woman sending out an e-mail while sleeping. It's pretty weird check it out...

That's all I got.

Oh and thanks for following our Twitter feed (which you can find here).

Dan

Creative Control in the Window Display of a Comic Shop

I had this dream last night. Now I am going to tell you about it.

I was in charge of designing and setting up the window display at the local comic store. (I'm not sure how I ended up in this position, there's nothing on my resume that makes me particularly qualified- in the dream, in real life I'm quite qualified...) Even curiouser, not only was I hired to do this, but I was apparently given absolute creative control to do whatever I like. My idea for this week (apparently I do this weekly) was to make the window display look as if the store was completely empty. No racks of new comics, no boxes of back issues, no action figures, nothing. If you walked by and looked in the window it would appear as if the store had gone out of business and moved out over night. The owner of the store was upset about this, for obvious reasons, which were then only compounded by the fact that I was using his staff to set up the elaborate series of mirrors, projectors, and holograms necessary to pull off this incredible, business-ruining display. But it didn't bother me that he was mad, not for a second, because I was working for his boss, who apparently thought I was brilliant.

Whatever...

Dan

Lucid Writing Part 1

Vince and I are surrealists and we're very interested in the subconscious, so it probably comes as no surprise that we've been experimenting with lucid writing- for the past 7 years.

For the past 7 years, we've both been trying, notebooks next to the bed, ready to go, jotting down our last thoughts before falling asleep and our first thoughts when we get up. We've dedicated ourselves to it and we make sure we write every night and every morning. And you know what we have to show for it? Nothing. Well, not nothing, just nothing good.

Jokes with no punchlines, disturbing fantasies, and warped memories of high school. That's it. Well, that and 56 straight pages of "Buy Soup Mix."

Let me give you an example, here's what I wrote this morning. I'm only sharing because it seemed to take the form of a blog entry.

09.04.08

We see a lot of famous people/locations here in LA, because it's where all the famous people/things are, there's no point in bragging. If I told you I saw Natalie Portman at the store buying soup, you'd say you saw John Dillinger or Matthew McConaughey eating soup once. Everyone always has a better story. Until now. Today, while riding the bus, I looked down at the street beneath me and I saw the wheels on the bus... they were going round and round. That's right, I was on the bus made famous in the classic song. The bus with the wheels that go round and round, and I know it was the bus because everyone on it was (note to self: look up what the people on the bus were doing according to the song). Anyone can see an artist, today I saw a muse.

See what I mean? Crap!

Dan

Put on your mitts, 'cause we're pitching ideas

We had a pitch meeting at a studio (which shall remain nameless) today, and I think it went pretty great. Here’s the idea:

So there’s this guy, right? We’ll call him Chuck. And he’s swimming in this vast ocean of soup –that’s not imagery, we mean honest-to-God corn chowder – but he’s running out of energy, because corn chowder’s thick stuff, and he sees this buoy nearby. He swims for it. But when he reaches the buoy, it turns into a jug of milk. And the milk says “Things are not as they appear, no?” before it turns into an albatross and flies away, landing in the boat of an old sailor. So Chuck drowns.

Or at least, he goes under. Chuck’s freaking out. He’s gonna die. Because you can’t breathe in corn chowder. Matter of fact, you can’t breathe in any kind of chowder. So he decides he’s had enough, he’s made his peace, and he opens his mouth to swallow the lethal chowder...and nothing happens. He doesn’t die. He can breathe, even. But it’s getting dark as he descends, so he lights a match, starts moving toward these ethereal, singing voices. And then his match goes out. Darkness.

Chuck opens his eyes, and he’s in bed. He gets out of bed, puts on his slippers, brushes his teeth, eats two waffles, two strips of bacon, drinks a cup of OJ and a cup of coffee, little bit of cream, two sugar cubes (that’s right, he still uses cubes), gets dressed right after breakfast because I guess he’s one of those guys who showers at night, and then Chuck goes to work. He’s some kind of analyst, and he sits in a couple of meetings, that kind of thing, wraps up his day, sits in rush hour, makes it home where he takes his dog for a walk, watches a movie on cable, orders Chinese in, and turns in early.

But suddenly Chuck wakes up, and he’s surrounded by these mermaids. They live in the chowder, only it’s not chowder anymore, it’s regular water, but it’s murky. Chuck’s bound, but he meets a friendly fiddler crab who cuts him loose, even though it means death to do so. Chuck gets free and does battle with the Mer-king, vanquishing him, and breaking the magic spell that held all those Playboy Playmates in the (figurative) bondage of undersea slavery. So Chuck and the now fully-legged Playmates suddenly find themselves on a Polynesian island paradise, attended to hand and foot by helper monkeys. The Playmates are very, very grateful for Chuck’s bravery as we fade out.

So that’s the pitch. The whole movie’s a dream, but it’s got this “awake sequence” in it, which is backward from how it usually works, and I think we made a pretty good case for this being “the next big thing.”

Our agent said we should hear back by Monday.

Vince out.