Didn't get enough of the first Boston Film Night? Missed the event entirely? Well, here's your chance to see what's happening on the Boston film scene.
Says Hurley, "My production company, Downcellar, and I were eager to screen our latest comedy short, A Briefcase Full of Knives, and my friend/collaborator, Kevin Anderton, was eager to screen some of his material. So Kevin and I decided to rent out the Regent Theatre in Arlington and tag on a second Boston Film Night to the end of 2007. We also collected the best of this year's New England comedy shorts to screen along with our two main features. We hope to create a fun night of film, comedy and networking. And remember, it's a free event!"
Hope all of you wonderful people have fun at the big shin dig tonight....
Me? I can't go because I gotta start writing my memoirs so that I can sell myself... (yes, Just like a REAL Prostitute does) so that I can finally start getting my life & times on film & make a few hundred million. ( I'm running a little short on cash these last few years, with Hollywood Leaving me flat broke, In-debt, shattered & completely Unhinged and all).
Did I ever mention what a Horrible Bitch Goddess Hollywood truly is? The Land of the Leapers... The land of the Un-dead... The City of Lost Souls & Lost Angels... The blackness from within the golden realm of Globes & the hardened Angels of alcoholic Oscars, that roam the studio back-lots never change.
As the interns drive themselves over the cliffs of insanity on those twisted mountainous roads, on the way up to their Masters Malibu Mansions that sit on the edge, of the Brink of disaster... These masters, who themselves, are spiraling out of control on their own way down, as these newcomers climb up, just to descend into the beginning of the end.
The sickness rolls in, like the thick smog that stretches thru the night & into the hot desert dawn, as the daylight breaks on the Blackened, ashened faces of stunned children as they weep for mercy.
The relentless Propaganda machine pounds at their wee little hearts & destroys all that carelessly fall into its merciless path of indeterminable wholesale destruction.
At night, you can still hear the children cry out, as the desert wind stops to blow & the shadows fall, onto the sinners beautiful suntanned faces, as they crawl thru the valley of death in drunken disorder to end up just another, nameless, faceless, casualty of war by days end.
The Boulevard of Broken dreams was built on the blood of the innocent. As the neon signs that illuminate the night & hide the rot of the valley by day, shatters like cheap glass into the mouths of those that get so close that they can actually taste, feel & smell the rancid decay of death that permeates the hollow hollywood air.
Oxygen so thin, the altitude so high, that they can hardly breathe, as they gasp at their last breath of silence, as the blood drips down from their battered hands clutching their Emmys, Oscars & Golden Globes that can be bought in Tijuana for a pittance.
The old school stars know better than to play with matches, but the newcomers never learn. They march in, day after day, arriving by bus, train & planes, clutching onto their dreams... These fresh faced innocents think that they will not get burned by the shimmering lights that shine from the plastic streets that scream of fame & fortune... These streets only bring darkness & decent into madness to the many who have failed & lost their way.
These dreamers, these schemers, of whom most likely, no one will ever be seen or heard from again... for that is the way of the She Demon that prances in the daylight & masquerades as a pretty harlot. But as night comes, the true light shines down from the hills & unmasks the rotten, befouled devil that is the true Hollywood...... in the never ending cycle that eats up & spits out the weak & innocent into the streets like broken toys a child throws away from boredom.
Like vampires... the bloodlust never ends... And once the innocents have been turned... Like a trick in the night... They to, in turn, become the masters keepers of the gates of delusions, as the new ones come running into & at, the shiny bright lights of hollywood.. These lights, that attract so many, like a moth to a flame, are nothing what you think they are... These decoys of illumination are nothing other than a train... A train that is coming straight at you... ready to run you over & vanquish your soul. Another lamb... left to slaughter.
For that, my dear friends, Is the True Hollywood. What no book, magazine, or person will ever dare talk about or tell you. For she is a mistress without a heart or soul & she will steal your dreams & blind your eyes. And then, just for spite, she will steal your children's dreams & still come back for more, until the blood has gone dry & she has sucked the life out of all your brethren.
But I still miss Hollywood... Each & everyday.... I still dream of her... For I am smitten... I am hooked...
For I am... Craig Amabello... An X-Hollywood Reject... Who terribly misses his Home.
P.S: I gotta get a 3 picture deal, just for starters, so that I can catch up to my hero.... Sam Raimi.
