I was alerted to the reunion about five days after the fact by my old friend Shannon, whom I used to bug relentlessly by screaming "Tell me you like my hat, Shannon!" in my best fake Irish, Tom Cruise accent. She e-mailed me, we mused about Jamie Wedow's ample cheek bones, and I felt this great sense of remorse that I somehow missed my ten year high school reunion. And that sucks ass.
Well, my life is great. The religion I created in 1996 to worship director Ed Wood has been seen in Playboy, Premiere, New Yorker, Rue Morgue, Bizarre, and the National Enquirer. My wife Natasha and I are expecting another child, our first child together. My mother and father and brother are more than likely probably fine. I have somehow adopted a don't ask/don't tell relationship with my other family and that suits me just fine. I know I'll see then on Thanksgiving. I am the manager of the children's department of a major bookstore and I get to run clubs and do storytimes. I am up for a promotion to store manager as soon as the management finds a way to pry the kids section from my cold, dead hands. Last October I succeeded in my lifelong goal of mounting a massive festival of movies and music ... click here for some pictures and a short film clip from the event. Natasha and I just moved into our own house. It's great. I have a lawn. I mow my own fucking lawn. That is so great.
But the big news is that I just got my next movie script. It's a thriller called "Asylum Alcatraz" and it's about Alcatraz becoming privatized and sold as an insane asylum but the patients gain control. I will be playing a patient named Jerry who spends the entire film naked, screaming, masturbating, and viciously murdering people. We will be filming the movie later this year ACTUALLY IN ALCATRAZ, which is both a dream come true and my worst nightmare. We'll be doing all night filming live in Alcatraz and during October and November, the coldest, wettest, worst tome for me to be running around naked. I am excited and overjoyed and nervous and frightened, plus I have vague suspicions that I'm getting too old to be the wild, crazy, violent, naked man of a major motion picture, but I just can't wait to be in front of movie cameras again.
Anyway, sorry I couldn't make it. See you in another ten years, though. Or maybe this Thanksgiving. I'll be the one skinny brown guy yelling at his two kids at the Peter Piper Pizza near Metrocenter. Look for me.