Movie Fun by Fire, Making Guest of Cindy Sherman

Believe me believe me believe me so help me Buddha (and any other higher powers out there) (including AA) this very modest project I began late 2003 and called Guest of Cindy Sherman because it named itself (after a freakout session at a fancy dinner party) and have wrecked the concept of placecards since - or that is my vain attempt to put a curse on that archaic practice to put people in their places. Someone always gets the shaft. (shut yo mouth) 

I had a fit because my name was left off a placecard. By that point in my life, my GF's fab life had erased my personality and the male ego, so fragile and wankish, went berserk and attempted to destroy the fabric of polite (ruthless) society in the form of a light-hearted romantic comedy feature documentary using an arsenal of videotape I'd collected. Of course no one would let me do that - not the GF or Tom Donahue, my co-pilot and editor, or producer Anura. Five years and all the money I've ever made is now going to the cineplex.

It's a long story but they did convince me that I needed to save the whales or kill sexism by turning the mirror on me to die for art in the form of making a movie that now has killed me in whatever form I was before, and the jelly mass I'd become, and give me the shape and strength of Gumby, whom I now resemble in a flesh color. 

It's not so bad being a claymation figure, really. Quite pliable, and now people can simply put me into most any shape they want. The universe, as I can conceive it, is mostly hellacious.

www.cinemavillage.com/chc/coming_soon.asp