Back when I was 25 and smart, the only filmmaker I knew was a pornographer. I didn't like him, he didn't like me and it all seemed to work in a nice harmonious symbiosis given he was a felon and I was a member of the local constabulary. But at least he had cameras, film, movies and a resume – which is more than most "filmmakers" have today. Now, all you need is a web site, a blog and, in the extreme, a Kinkos business card. If you're really showing off, maybe a whole box of them.
I mention this inasmuch as I can't help but notice that this looks alarmingly like a blog; I already have a web site, I'm well past a box of business cards, and my popularity on IMDB is waaaay below Pia Zidora, largely considered the drum majorette of Hollywood's walking dead. In fact, my popularity is even below actors who have actually been dead longer than I've been alive (for instance: Leslie Howard, "Gone with the Wind", killed in WWII; bummer – maybe if he'd lived longer his numbers wouldn't be so good). So I guess the good news is that as a writer-director -- not actor -- I'm only compared with other filmmakers nobody's heard of either. I think this comes under the heading of "small consolation".
Anyhow, my wife announced she's tired of waiting for the bling and that I needed to kick this puppy up a notch, "Start a blog, it'll help you write your screenplays." This strikes me as roughly the equivalent of Jeff Gordon riding a bicycle to the track, but I get her point.
My daughter was more direct, "I'm the one who's going to decide which nursing home you wind up in, so be nice."
All of which is by way of preface to say that this is intended as mental gymnasium: a place to try things out, bat stuff around, somewhere to go at 2AM when I'm supposed to be writing. It won't all be about film – but film is about life and experiences, so don't be surprised if what you see in here, winds up in a screenplay. And if I steal something of yours -- we'll it's because I respect you too much to insult you by trying to quantify your artistry with money. -- Oh, yeah, baby... with that kind of B.S., the bling can't be too far away.