My friend Julie has this blog — — which I really enjoy. Part of it is that I like Julie – her worldview, her phrasing, all these little things that combine to make this really incredible, fun person with whom I enjoy spending vast stretches of time. Another part of it is, I really enjoy process. Her post about preparing for an art show is one of my favorite things. I like the work that goes on behind the curtain, sometimes I like that work more than what’s actually going on in front of the curtain. At least, I like it in instances where I can’t see the strings being pulled. Or at least, in the instances where it’s easy for me to forget that strings are being pulled. Putting a song together, marrying lyrics and a sonic landscape against which those lyrics are set, is incredible to me. It amazes me that people can draw a line, and then another line, and another, and eventually all those lines combine to make an iconic character or image. Process, man…it’s the bee’s knees.

For a little while now, I’ve been told I should start a blog. That it would give me an outlet for shorter pieces, and give my name some degree of visibility that it doesn’t yet have. And so I look at her blog or Edgar Wright’s blog — — and I wonder: Why would the world need another blog? What do I have to bring to a marketplace already flooded with options? I’ve also been told I should start a podcast, and I asked the very same question in that case, too.

Recently, I realized that the main rule an artist should use in creating art is Make Something Worthy Of Your Name And The Audience’s Time. Too often, I think we forget or forego one for the sake of the other. We concern ourselves too much with audience expectations or viability, or we lose sight of the fact that other people will experience what we’re creating and make something completely and uniformly of ourselves, to the extent that it doesn’t resonate with anyone else. And that…is not the way forward.

It was a moment where the three things mentioned thus far came together, when I realized what my blog would be. It began this morning when I ranted at Julie about this pervasive belief that audiences are stupid, and want only that which comforts and reassures them. This came from watching a TV procedural that offered absolutely nothing new or exciting or refreshing in its idea or execution (If you’re curious about the rant, I’m sure it’ll be a post of its own at some point). Soon after getting myself riled up over that, I saw that Edgar Wright had blogged about composing his Top Ten Films list for Sight & Sound Magazine ( This got me thinking about making lists, and how much effort we put into something that we know doesn’t really matter, and yet will still spend hours discussing and arguing over with friends and colleagues who also spent far too long on their own list. Usually, when I am asked for my favorite films, I preface the list with “This is as of today, and will probably change if you ask me again tomorrow”. And that got me thinking about a blog…

All this time, I’d been questioning why I should create another blog to compete for space with all these other ones that already exist, and that is forgetting the self at the expense of the audience. I can create a blog, because, quite simply, I can create a blog. I can make my own little corner of the internet where I can work things out and post small pieces that probably won’t ever be a part of the scripts and stories I put out into the world. I can foster ideas, dissect the reactions prompted by movies and TV and music. I can experiment.

And so, that is where I begin…with an experiment. A Top Ten Films experiment, nonetheless. Something I don’t expect to excite anyone but me, and I’m fine with that. Over the next week or so, I’m going to post my Top Ten Films, without looking at the previous days list first. I want to see what (if any) fluctuations happen, and determine what (if any) meaning that holds. So that’s it. That’s the mission statement. If you dig what’s here, I hope you let me know. If not, well, go ahead and let me know that, too. Dialogue is never bad, as long as it’s not purely expository.