Movies that need to be made.
(AKA: what the fuck *else* am I gonna do while working on this more-or-less scientific paper that is making my fucking eyes fucking BLEED with my former postdoc's brilliance right now than have a round of ole'-fashion' ego-surf -- read Huffpost, uh? Uh?)
Omega Minor by Tony Kaye. A few funny (but not ha-ha) connotations to that, like (a) a woman I was once quite unrequitedly bonkers about once told me I looked like Ed Norton (which quite satisfactorily explains the unrequited part, I s'poz); and (b) yes, yes, I know, I did steal Omega's Bordsteintreten scene from American History X, but it's a fucking brilliant scene, 'kay?; and (c) how did this JC Simpson dude/dudess get her/his hands on my well-encrypted notes for Babylon Blues, which will, of course, be all up in American History's face, and eager to headbutt too?; and, finally, (d): Sultry S and I were discussing books and movies the other day which, given that I own a t-shirt that reads Movies: Ruining the book since 1920, you know where this was going, but she mentioned, now, if anybody would want to make a movie out of one of your books, you wouldn't say no, would you?, and I said yes I would, but then I am a bitter, self-loathing, misunderstood and certainly undervalued genius, so my refusal would be purely out of bilious spite, but actually, you know, buying some time to get that sodding new novel off the effing ground would be so swell -- so on that off-chance: sure, Tony bro, gimme a call.