"Elvi, I Was Only Kidding! Fly, Pelican!"

Scarface... helluva movie. "First you get the power, then you get the chicks." The immortal words of Tony Montana, as penned by the Dilligaf revered screenwriter and filmmaker, Oliver Stone. He wrote the screenplay in Paris while kicking a cocaine addiction. Oliver Stone is one cool dude... my favorite filmmaker of all time. [David Lynch is a close second. "We hunt buffalo now, Reggie! Remember the number 10!"]

Trying to raise money to shoot a remake of Man From Deep River, a German-made indie from the Seventies. That might be more practical than the biker flick, Dead or in Huntsville, since I'm living in the boonies now instead of the big city of Dallas. I have access to a lot of acres for exterior shots. Dead or in Huntsville seems to be jinxed, anyway. It's a long story.

Going to try to make it happen on the cheap again. Going to have to pool resources and combine talents with some heavy hitters to pull this rabbit out of a hat. Gonna write a killer script, though. Could be a lot of fun. Writing the script is the fun part. May have to come up with a proposal or private placement memorandum (PPM) to raise the money. Or save some money from my "job" in the "real world." Oh, I forgot, I'm unemployed again. I swore I'd never make another movie without the money first. In the words of Blaine Carson, "Dad gummit!"

I could even get rubbed out by the Mob. I own the screen rights to the definitive biography of Crazy Joe. I adapted a screenplay from the biography, Joey, by Donald Goddard, when I conceived and produced 3 Violent Plays with Thin Dime Theater Company in 1996. What if the Mob doesn't like it? What if I got it wrong? What if Joey Gallo's side lost the gang war and the winners of that gang war don't appreciate my version of the Crazy Joe story? Maybe I shouldn't even call him Crazy Joe... he hated that name. Nobody ever called him that to his face. (He was also known as Joey the Blond. He was shot down in Umberto's Clam House in NYC in 1971 on his 43rd birthday.)

My asking price for my script Joey & Jeffie is one million dollars... what if the Mob wants a cut? What if they send some Pauly Walnuts kinda guy to jack me up? Maybe he'll just stab me in the leg with an ice pick if I'm lucky? Holy shit, what have I done? What wicked webs we weave. Maybe I should give up this movie business and become a florist. Nah.