It was my favorite part. I think it summed up the whole movie really: Bill Murray desperately trying to save it in the midst of red carpet chaos.

The seahorse is placed in his care by a child--the way the audience trusts a director with their naivete. As the watchers, we leave ourselves open to whatever they've dreamed up for us to pretend-along-with.

The fight on the stairwell is caused by a reporter from some tabloid or other shouting accusations that Bill Murray has killed his lifelong friend. he's distracted from his mission of protecting the seahorse by the media glitz and glamour.

The seahorse is saved in the end when the quick-thinking Zissou pours him into a hastily emptied champagne flute. The exquisite crystal is of small use to the delicate creature contained within. It was probably much happier in the plastic bag.

It's all a brilliant commentary on what it means to be a filmmaker, and on the place and importance of the artistic heart of a film in the face of immense economic forces and expectations, and all the while surrounded by a sea of flashbulbs.

Doh!

I let the registration on awesomejumbo.com expire accidentally, which is why the site has been down for a few days.

Everything's all fixed up now! Sorry about that!

-trevor

The less interested you are, the more interesting you are.

-Trevor

It's 5:15am on Monday morning. Most sensible people--and even a good portion of the unsensible are asleep.

Me, I'm finishing a can of Crest I swore I wouldn't ever touch and smoking cigarettes I don't particularly want or enjoy.

It's that kind of night.

I tried sleeping for a few hours, but nothing came of it. I guess my body's rested, but the body is slave to the mind so what good does that do me?

I guess that explains the cigarettes and Crest: If you can't bring everyone up to the bar, might as well bring down the best.

I'm getting used to that kind of sentiment. I think I belong in Grad school, but you gotta buy your way in. You gotta pay your dues before you get to start living off of other people's. Even in studios you sweep floors and scrub toilets before you even get to watch someone else mix.

Maybe I'm in over my head--but if you're a fish that's a good thing, right? Sometimes it's hard to tell whether the gills are working or I'm just suffering from oxygen-deprivation-induced hallucinations.

But hey, the water's fine, dive on in.

I feel like a lot of my life is lived in secret. But maybe that's true for everyone. I feel like a very small part of my life is lived in everyone else's eyes whether I'm there or not.

But then, maybe I'm just another guy. But then, who's reading this?

-Trevor

It's been a long time since everything, I suppose.

Here's some lyrics composed on the walk home, to a melody that can probably never be accurately transcribed, changing, as it does, every time I sing it.

They say that nothing is free,
But then how can they explain Nelson Mandela?
They say that nothing is how it should be,
But what about a mother's love?
They say that good things come in threes,
But then what about tits and vincent van gogh?
I guess they don't know, they don't know.

Some things are better because you can't have them. Somethings are worse because you do.

Randomness is the order of the evening, of, well, the last half decade or so. Who'd have thought the 20th century would be so non-linear? Well, I guess most people.

Words the sentence this in order out are of.

Blah blah blah blah.

"Oh you're a blogger?" Emily said to me with a hint of amused disgust.

Yep. I even have the sweatshirt to prove it.

-Trevor

P.S. Read Atonement by Ian McEwan.

Dear Everyone,

Thank you for such a great year. It's been a while since I've had this much to look forward to, and such a sense of belonging and happiness.

Special thanks to the hosts of the parties that I attended. Hall parties and party parties and no-holds-barred jokes telling. Plenty to keep a boy occupied.

Regrets to the parties I couldn't attend, but I'm sure you had so much fun you didn't even miss me. It was that kind of night.

New Years has been creeping up slowly but steadily, each year outdoes the last by some measure. I wonder how long I can keep up the pace. I'm more of a hare than a tortoise.

Well wishes to those I saw, and to those I didn't. Lets all do our part to bring a little more harmony to this planet we call earth. (and major harmonies at that!)

Happy New Year,

-Trevor