The Indie’s Oscars
The day before the Oscars, there’s a party in Santa Monica that’s more “smart chic” than “custom couture,” more “new kid in town” than “living legend,” more “vote of the people” than “who votes for these again?” It’s the Spirit Awards, and over the last several years it’s become the indie Oscars, even as the films recognized are less and less truly independent films (case in point: several films are nominated for both Spirit Awards and Oscars.). Dress code is decidedly relaxed; hosts are the likes of Andy Samberg and, this year, Patton Oswalt; and far as I know, though it is televised, there’s no orchestra kicking winners off stage…
What’s got me going
The other day, I posted about what’s been brewing in me recently, particularly a shift into more writing, more being a part of filmmaking teams. It hasn’t come out of nowhere, obviously, but this renewed sense of urgency has caught me a bit by surprise. It’s as if it was always there, hanging out by the jukebox, waiting patiently while I danced with other boys. Egging me on in my goofy artistic pursuit are women who I’m sure don’t even know they’ve made an impression on me, some because I’ve never told them, but most because I don’t even know them. There’s a lot of buzz around women writing and…
