Good news for Bad Bears

does little productions will be filming Bonfire, Falls in the spring of 2006. The script is under going a weight loss program, while our writer is under going a detox process. Anticipate good things as they develop, we've gotten a bit of good news from a team of experienced individuals. And slowly but surely we're taking our enthusiasm and learning to make fire.

In late January we will have a folio of locations and cast members, and in May anticipate an intensive week of rehearsal, followed by a ten day shoot over a two week period, and last the rest of summer to edit in the city of angels.

What may be damaging to the body may be a benifit to soul [music].

Remember if any of us obeyed the golden rule: one shall not drink alone; we would all die sober. Kids dream to get to sleep to dream of greater things; and adults sleep exhausted from greater dreams past. The American dream is to make a living out of what we love and I can assure that this is not the mind set of eager parents of child film stars. We all want to make money and support ourselves doing what we love. And the ultimate question lies in the journey. Is it better to succeed and be burned by your dreams or forfeit and burn your dreams to stay warm? doeslittleproductions has a camera. Now we've got to get it to work. We've got to find money.

Die and Let Live

If every generation before us said the world would come to an end, then apocalyptic fears must simply be a part of this life. However don't relax; sooner or later someone's fear must be right.

The only hope to remember our efforts and aspirations is to write them down and scream them out to our loved ones; otherwise our dreams are dreams and nothing more. That's just the god damn trouble with growing up American. Adopt the attitude. Get old and Die.

But remember our parents suffered Nixon and Regan. Unfortunatley there is no clarity or logic. Excuse me if all I ever wanted was to have a family. And my only gift to the world, my only selfless act is that I will refuse to bring up a child in this state, this state of things.

Sad and Pathetic Letter of the Year

In closing we lost the only voice of the left. In the later half of the past century there was only one man that made sense of it all. He was a profit, a derelict and a criminal. None of these things are difficult to accomplish given the state of things of our united states. But HST probably was the last icon. Musicians and artists don't exist anymore, we're all just bill boards and road signs. This dead son of a bitch, as his ashes still dust the dry lands of Colorado, this man could not be bought.

It is not my aim to sound depressive but there is no hope left. The well has gone dry. HST wrote about the ashes of our great nation, he made prose out of a trail of smoke, he wrote of what the flame once looked like for younger generations that never saw the lit candle.

HST was a drunk and a fighter. All writers are. And he was probably one of the most humble men to ever be published. The most specific evidence to support this is in that he never wrote of woman. And everyman prides himself on his understanding of women, and every writer feels obligated to share his understandings. HST never wrote of women. And no man that I've known of has truly understood those beautiful vessels of life, those beautiful transient tits and ass.

This life is a zombie movie and it's all just a matter of time before we turn. Those that believe in aesthetics hold and fight and struggle to stay lucid. But as the zombie franchise goes sooner or later we all become infected. We all become mindless. We all become nothing. I feel HST explained to his minions the cruel realities of living and breathing. He taught me how cruel and mean being old and American can be. He taught me this before I gave up. And it cushioned the fall.

"Shoot them in the head and they go down permanently... America sorts its shit out"--Dawn of the Dead.

HST please remember me. Please pray for me, as I am a young man alive and in troubled times.

"I'm still looking for that steep hill in Vegas that Poets write of; where you can see the past and find comfort."

We[heart]HST.