Why Watchmen Blew

I saw Watchmen, the other night. I won't lie, I was sorely disappointed, but I went in eyes open for whatever Zack Snyder had to offer. Nevertheless, I'm struck with the same thought that's been shared with countless other devotees to Alan Moore's vision: He completely missed the point.

He missed the point. I'm not saying that the movie wasn't meticulous in detail, it was. Beautifully so. But to dilute the characters, their choices, their reactions; and to spell out their feelings was nothing short of bushleague.

I can cite specific instances where beautiful moments were lost. I can list, document and spell out 'til doomsday the ways in which the movie fell short of the mark. Hell, I even may; if I ever have that much free time or bile stored up.

Regardless, the movie short-changed its audience. It did so badly. Watchmen was bad. It was very bad, and Zack Snyder should feel bad. To say more would belabor the point.

"My Year"

Hah. Did you see that thing I did there, where I foolishly made the presumption that this was going to be 'my year'? I don't wish to discount the possibility that it very well might end that way, but the beginning of this orbit about the sun has been less than encouraging.

Let's recap: No steady employment. No money coming in. No dating. I'm shocked, shocked by this turn of events that has been the status quo for more than a month, now.

To combat it, I have been applying like a mad man for administrative jobs up, down, left and right across the internet-- the fruits of which were two lukewarm interviews at temp agencies that had no work available. It's said that the act of an insane man is to try the same thing over and over again and expect different results. Time to try something new.

Work isn't available right now. Not in a cubicle. I get that. This could be a blessing in disguise. I was never satisfied in the work place (aka the place of work); it was always a means of filling coffers long enough to make it to the next audition, the next rehearsal, the next play or recording. I spent ten months in a cubicle last year; during which I had a handful of promising auditions. Less than 5. Maybe that time could have been better spent. I don't know. I'm scarcely an objective witness.

I took my friends up on an offer and sold tickets in Times Square. Tickets to what? Stand-up comedy. Scoff all you like (I should know, I was scoffing), but the fact is it put money in my pocket that was not there before and would not have gotten there otherwise. Not the cubicle route. That river has run dry.

This new venture is but one of several I hope to tackle in the coming days, weeks and months. I've officially begun a side business (with as yet no capital or advertising, give me a break it's midnight); Casey Cooks For You. I got the idea from an issue of Time Out New York. Over the next few days, when I have time, I'll be handing out fliers promoting my services as a chef for hire. You never know. This could be something. I lose nothing by trying.

Speaking of trying, I've corralled my nerve and begun putting together material for stand-up of my own. I'm witty, I'm dry and articulate. If I can get a chuckle or two out of some unsuspecting audience, hooray for me.

Something's gotta work. I'm not leaving town. Not any time soon. Not by a long shot.