Ann Richards and Dolly Parton meet at the Driskill Hotel, 1982. Photo by Scott Newton.

Ann Richards and Dolly Parton meet at the Driskill Hotel, 1982. Photo by Scott Newton.

bonjourlaura:

Today I walked into a movie set. Three different times. I think the PAs on set wanted to murder me and I’m sure I looked dumb. But hey, whatever. It’s an Adam Sandler movie so I probably won’t even go see it to find out if I accidentally made it into a shot.

It’s the film Jason Reitman is making here in town, I believe. They were filming across Mopac from my office earlier this month.

The Pickle Jar, or Stories I Tell Myself, or maybe Fuzzy Math

chronkimjones:

Brushing my teeth this morning, I half-remembered a script idea I had a while back. I put aside screenwriting six years ago because journalism paid better than unemployment, but I still have these half-remembered things that I occasionally return to and doodle on for a few days. I call it “dinking around” whenever my old screenwriter pals call to ask what I’m working on.

I spent the night trying to find notes on my laptop about that half-remembered idea – it was for a romantic comedy, and it had a hook that I remember being half-clever at best; still, enough to justify opening a Word doc for – but I couldn’t find anything. In the absence of any documentation, I become more and more convinced that the idea I couldn’t actually remember was probably genius, so I dug out my pickle jar and shook it empty.

The pickle jar is an old Claussen jar (bread’n butter chips, the best), and I’ve had some version of it for as long as I wanted to be a writer. It’s full of scraps of paper that rotate in and out. Photographs clipped from magazines. (There’s Katharine Hepburn looking sly-like at Cary Grant behind bars in Bringing Up Baby.) Snippets from old New Yorker pieces. (I’m looking now at a shred from Adam Gopnik’s C.S. Lewis profile – date unknown but I still know why I was so taken with a passage on joy.) Cryptic scribblings torn from my reporter notepads, back when they were still filled with story ideas, not just to-do lists and the ephemera of endless meetings. (Here’s something about the art-class smocks my generation wore, repurposed from our fathers’ retired dress shirts pile; are children still wearing them?)


The pickle jar was a bust. I didn’t find anything about the romantic comedy. (I’m convinced at the very least it had a very marketable name, surely some awful play on words.) But I did find a rare sliver of autobiography buried in the jar, recorded from a years-old birthday celebration at a bar and folded twice for posterity:

“The boy I like didn’t come, and the boy I don’t like brought me flowers.”….

(cut off for length, just read Kim’s whole post, I promise it’s worth it)

Photo of Stevie Ray Vaughan statue on shores of Town Lake last night, taken by Reagan Hackleman.

Photo of Stevie Ray Vaughan statue on shores of Town Lake last night, taken by Reagan Hackleman.

AFF Interview: Ashley Spillers of 'Dear Sidewalk' Remembers Her Sunscreen | Slackerwood

Posting less to Tumblr this week as I’ve been ramping up for Austin Film Festival.  I’ve done a couple interviews for Slackerwood (one of them is linked here) and start seeing movies tonight.

I’m gonna vote after work and then see a documentary about the fight for reproductive rights in Virginia some hours later.

elevator-loveletter:

I see her piece on Lamar (near 5th) every morning as I drive to the office, but Friday I noticed this other work of hers on the side of Bouldin Creek Cafe.
I got excited and told my friend, “Oooh, it’s another work by Becca!” But I don’t think she recognized the name or style.
Now that I’m living in south Austin, I see far more street art than I used to (which isn’t saying much since I barely spotted any in central/north Austin).
[photo: Steven Glicker/Pinterest]

From my arts-focused Tumblog (which I update less frequently, but you could still follow, if you wanna)

elevator-loveletter:

I see her piece on Lamar (near 5th) every morning as I drive to the office, but Friday I noticed this other work of hers on the side of Bouldin Creek Cafe.

I got excited and told my friend, “Oooh, it’s another work by Becca!” But I don’t think she recognized the name or style.

Now that I’m living in south Austin, I see far more street art than I used to (which isn’t saying much since I barely spotted any in central/north Austin).

[photo: Steven Glicker/Pinterest]

From my arts-focused Tumblog (which I update less frequently, but you could still follow, if you wanna)

HELL NO: The Sensible Horror Film (by pixelspersecond)

Well, this is my kind of horror movie!