FAMILY PICS PART 3

Hi all...

I'll try to get on later so I can write something incredibly inane, but for now you will just have to tide yourselves over with a photo of my cousin, ELIZA!


Enjoy!
b

NO TIME FOR LOVE DOCTOR JONES!

I just wanted to stop by (virtually speaking) and get in a quick blog before I scoot off to class. So this one is going to be short and sweet... like me circa 1984-85.

For years I have batted this idea around my ahead, and I wanted to put it out there in the universe... you know, throw it on the fridge to see if anyone salutes it.

Okay, mixed metaphors aside... I've been wanting to write a book called...

The Longest Suicide Note Ever

No, I don't want to kill myself... what I want to do is use the concept of a suicide note to say every bizarre thing that I ever wanted to say about anything and everything. No apologies, no holding back... I'm talking pure unadulterated booch dialectics. It will be like my Aristotle's Poetics. (Wow, that feels way self-centered and over-the-top-full-of-myself just writing it... and it might actually be a new low for me).

Okay, I may be overstating things a bit...

Seriously though, I've been bandying this idea for a while because for some reason I am obsessed with the idea of writing a character who believes that he wants to commit suicide, only he is too ineffectual to actually do it. Basically he has serious commitment issues about this upcoming suicide. So everyday he adds another page to The Longest Suicide Note Ever. Is that even mildly interesting to anyone besides myself?!

Any thoughts?

After reading through this, I had to resist the urge to erase the entire thing. Why? Because I think I there is something wrong with my brain, and I am opening myself up to some serious psychoanalysis. Anyone want to venture a guess as to the meaning behind me wanting to write an innefectual loser as my mouthpiece?

Geez... something is really, really wrong with my brain. Luckily I have to go to school, so I have no choice but to stop this rambling.

Somebody FIX MY BRAIN!

:)
b

MORE FAMILY FIRST...

Hi all..

just thought I would drop another family photo for my little series. This is of course... PARIS!



He favors his father quite a bit, doesn't he?

Goodnight!
b

FAMILY FIRST...

Okay, in an effort to be less VAIN and SELF-CENTERED, I have decided to start posting up photos of people OTHER than myself. But in keeping with the personal nature of this blog, I will only be posting up pictures of family members.

So without any more fanfare, here's the first family member to grace my new pictorial series called... FAMILY FIRST!

This is my teenage cousin, DAWNETTE...



Isn't she absolutely darling?

Until next time...
b

NO ENSEMBLE CAST HERE

It has been brought to my attention (by multiple blog readers) that I have a tendency to post only photos of MYSELF on this blog. While I do NOT deny the accuracy of this , I do take exception to the pejorative implication.

And here's my vehement response to that...

1)


2) This blog is strictly a star vehicle.... there's no ensemble cast here. This blog aint called "Brian Booch and his Amazing Friends". It's not "Friends", it's "According to Jim".

3) It's simple mathematics! A picture is worth a thousand words, so think about how much time and energy I'm saving.

4) It's MY blog peoples. The fans come because they want their daily dose of all things Booch. And like any respectable pusher, sometimes I have to hook them up with the good shit... the real primo visuals. When I have that extra potent, high quality shit... I GOTS to lay off on the masses. If you are up on your street game, you will know that it's all about the come back. Gotta keep them coming back for that next fix... and what better way to do it than with pictures of ME.

5) I'm incredibly self-centered.

Okay... I'm done. If I have to justify my actions, then maybe you all don't deserve ANY MORE OF THIS...



:)
b

AN EXCERPT FROM MY SPEC

Me again... like who else would it be writing on a blog called Brian Booch Blather.

I thought it might be nice to post up the first 6 pages of my Grey's Anatomy spec for any Grey's fans out there who are also Brian Booch Blather fans (yeah, I know that narrows down the field considerably).

I put together an album for the 6 pages (below), but I have no idea if it's easily readable or not. If anyone cares to read it and comment on the relative ease or difficulty... that would be AWESOME! Or at least mildly appreciated.

Anyhoo, here it is...

My Grey's Anatomy Spec... the Teaser!

Enjoy!
b

A LITTLE PROJECT

Hi all...

Today I decided (in honor of my upcoming 37th birthday) to ATTEMPT to collect pictures from every year of my life. I know for a fact that there are going to be some holes... probably a lot of them, but that's okay.

I think what I'm striving, for rather than just a year by year chronology, is to capture the various looks that I have had over the years. And there were many. I'm not going to make any promises about WHEN I am going to post the Booch pictorial retrospective, but hopefully it won't be more than a week or so.

I guess I can just put up as much as I have... then try and fill in some of the holes over time.

Anyway, that's my latest hair brained scheme. Wish me luck! And of course if anyone happens across any embarassing pictures of me, they can feel free to pass them on. I promise to include even the MOST God awful ones (and there are many).

That's it for now...
:)

HURRAY FOR ME!

I must be on some kind of natural high, because I am blogging like an addict over here! The reason for this one though, is because I just finished the first draft of my Grey's Anatomy spec!!!

I don't know if it's worth a crap and it's running way too long, but at least it's done. And by done I mean just in that first draft, destined to be re-written a bunch of times, sense. I ended up at 68 pages, so I have to cut at least 10 and probably more.

But you wanna hear about prolific? In the past day and a half I cranked out 25 script pages-- which is a bunch, for those who aren't in the know. In fact, it wins the coveted title of most output ever BY ME in a 36 hour period. I'm not sure if its Guiness worthy, but I'll take it.

Too bad they haven't brought back that TV classic, THAT'S INCREDIBLE, because with output like that... I'd be all over that bitch!!!

Anyway, my eyes burn, my ass is sore, and my fingers are bleeding a little... so that's all for now.

HURRAY FOR ME!
b

AN OLD PROMISE

Hey there...

A while ago I promised to upload some pictures from my trip to Mexico, but being the LAME S.O.B. that I am, I never got around to it.

I woke up this morning and decided to try and undo some of my wrongs... so here's an album for your enjoyment!

TRAVERSING MEXICO 2007

:)
b

3X IN ONE DAY!

I don't really have much to say, but I figured I might as well drop another blog entry before I get too sleepy.

Why? Maybe Im making up for last time. Maybe I feel guilty. Maybe I just smoked 1/6th of a very expensive cigar and am feelin' a little light headed.

Here's a picture of me... taken a approximately 11:49 PM.



Don't I look just darling? Or at the very least mysterious?

Feel free to discuss on your own. Me... I'm gonna hit the hay! Now I will end this blog with the exact words Paris and I exchange EVERY night...

Goodnight, sweet dreams, don't let the bed bugs bite, buenos noches and I love you!

And I'm out!
b

CHAPTER 8

Hi all... just thought I'd put up the long overdo Chapter 8. I haven't read it since 2003, so hopefully it doesn't suck!

Chapter 8

The following day an inordinate number of Totally Toys employees straggle in late, each sporting their own brand of hang over. The director of human resources, Miranda Fellows, knows right away that something is amiss when Henrietta staggers in an hour and a half late. Miranda, dubbed the Tinman by her peers because of her freakish gray complexion and her apparent lack of a heart, interrogates Henrietta. She learns of the previous evening's activities, minus Henrietta's affair with Edwin, wisely omitted from the story. Miranda reprimands her, then forces her to draft and distribute a company memo forbidding employees from going to Hardballs between Mondays and Thursdays.

Henrietta and her stack of memorandums go first to the marketing department, where she is forced to leave Joan's copy on her chair, since she is still not in. Mae, one of the few punctual bar hoppers, takes her memo, reads it, and tosses it in the trash. It is not an act of defiance on her part. In her mind the memo is superfluous; fed up with bars and their inherent falseness, she has decided never to return to Hardballs. Besides, she doesn't even like sports. Henrietta apologizes for the memo and moves on to the next department.

Joan arrives minutes later, sporting a bounce in her step and beaming with satisfaction. Mae spies her arrival from behind the wall separating their cubicles, taking notice of her exuberant manner. Mae's internal alarm goes off immediately. Joan leans over and winks at Mae, and like that, a wave of doom hits her. The hairs on the back of her neck to stand up, confirming that her worst fears have been realized; Joan fucked Danny last night. Mae turns away from Joan, picks up the phone and fakes being busy in hopes that Joan will go away. But Joan doesn't go away. She waits Mae out so she can deliver her grand announcement. Five minutes go by, and Mae's resolve begins to weaken. She runs out of made-up things to say to the empty phone, so she decides upon a new tactic.

“Okay then.” Mae says to the empty line. “I'll drop those reports off at your desk right now. “ She hangs up the phone, grabs a random stack of papers.

“Good morning.” Joan's tone smacks of smugness.

“Morning.” Mae gets up with her papers and starts to walk off. Joan calls out to her, loud enough that Mae cannot keep walking and later claim to have not heard. Mae turns around. “Yes?”

“What time did you get in?” asks Joan.

“On time.”

“Did you have fun last night?”

“It was okay.”

“I'm so worn out from last night. I was gonna call in sick.” Joan walks over to Mae, forcing the conversation. “Have you spoken to Danny?”

“No.”

“I bet he's not even in yet.” Joan winks.

Mae turns to leave, disgusted with the implication but trying to take the high road. It takes only a heartbeat for her feistiness gets the better of her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don't kiss and tell.” Joan winks again.

“You don't?!”

“Nope.”

“Do you swallow and tell?!” Mae winks back at her, then storms off.

Joan, returns to her desk, in a shock caused by what she perceives as unwarranted attack. She allows herself a few minutes for self pity, before trying to figure out why Mae mistreated her so. It doesn't take long for her figure out that Mae has a crush on Danny. Although Joan is relieved that there is at least a justifiable reason for Mae's behavior, she is not sure how she feels about it.

Danny spends the morning writing in his journal. He gives an objective and accurate account of the previous evening, with the exception of his treatment of Joan. Fueled by guilt, he is unusually kind and understanding in his characterization of her failed seduction. He offers up a conclusion that she was fueled by alcohol and perhaps some ambiguity on his part, for not telling her outright that he wasn't interested. He condemns himself for not spotting her intentions sooner, so he could have diffused the situation.

Yet most of his writing that morning is about Mae. He fills page after page with complimentary adjectives, explaining to himself what it is that he really likes about her. After exhausting a thesaurus worth of synonyms for amazing, he spends a little too much time examining exactly why he is so attracted to her. It is his analytical nature that makes him do this, even though the answer is simple-chemical attraction. He fills up several pages explaining the obvious to himself, that he and Mae have extraordinary chemistry, and that there is nothing he would like more than to get to know her better. But, then he fills even more pages with all the reasons why he is not going to pursue Mae. He invents a slew of assorted excuses to masquerade the fact that he is afraid of being rejected. Yet, in all this writing, he never mentions the real reason for his cowardice; if she finds out that he is an ex-convict, and sooner or later she will, then she will surely break his heart. He has felt that sting before, and won't allow himself to go through that again.

Danny finishes his writing exercise and decides to go get some coffee. He tells himself that he is tired and in need of some caffeine, but what he really needs is a fix of Mae. Even though there can be nothing between them, there is no harm in looking. He walks by her cubicle on the way, but she is not at her desk. Her purse and jacket are there, so he is sure that she in just away momentarily. So, he takes his time going to the cafeteria, walking without purpose. Once there, he leisurely fixes his coffee and inspects the snack machine for the millionth time, as though somehow a desirable snack will appear if he looks long enough. When he has killed a reasonable amount of time, he takes his coffee and does another walk by. But she is still not back, so he is forced to leave without having laid eyes upon her.

Mae is outside the business complex, steaming about her encounter with Joan while watching her cigarette burn away to nothing. She doesn't feel like smoking, it is not a social situation, after all, but maintains the smoker's charade by wielding a lit cancer stick. She curses her former friend, even though she is without cause for such condemnation. Mae has a knack for embracing her feelings of personal injury, however unjustified. By holding on to her pain, she can better justify the inevitable lashing out at others that follows these feelings. She tells herself that Joan was most likely lying to her about Danny. She tells herself that Joan's lies were an act of malice, intended to harm her. She tells herself that Danny is too much of a nice guy, and way too smart to fall for Joan's primitive methods.

The unsmoked cigarette extinguishes itself at the base of the filter. Mae takes this as a sign that it is time to go back inside. She decides to return to her desk by way of the first floor, a route that is the long way back and passes by the computer room. She stops by the computer room, peeking her head into the room in search of Danny. She is disappointed to find him missing from the room. She will have to take another trip down here later, so she can look into his eyes and see for herself that Joan is a liar.

The rest of her morning is spent quietly catching up on work. Mae follows through on several old tasks that were put aside out of sheer laziness. She redirects her anger with Joan, using it as fuel to have the most productive morning since her first week on the job. Joan and Mae avoid each another for the rest of the day. Sometime after lunch, Mae's phone rings. It is Danny, calling her under the guise of checking to see how her computer is doing.

“Hi, Danny!” Mae says. “How are thing down there?”

“Not too bad. A little boring. I was wondering, is your computer working okay?”

“Like a dream. Thanks again for fixing it.”

“Anytime.”

“And thanks for driving last night. I had a good time.”

“Me too.” There are a million things Danny would like to say to her, but somehow with opportunity knocking, he is at a loss for words. After a long silence, in which Mae begins to wonder why he even called, Danny ends the conversation. “Well, I gotta run. It was nice talking to you.”

“You too. Catch you later.”

In spite of its brevity and lack of substance, the conversation is enough to carry them through the rest of the afternoon. Danny sits at the workbench for most of the day, feeling stupid for calling her and having nothing to say, but grateful to have at least heard her voice. He decides that he detected genuine joy in her tone, another sign that she likes him. It makes him feel good to be liked, especially since he doesn't really have any friends. It's not that he is an antisocial person, he is just very cautious about adopting friendships, and the right situation for one has not presented itself in the two years he has lived in California. He starts to think that perhaps he can become a friend with Mae. He enjoys her company, and even if he is too chicken shit to pursue her romantically, there is no harm developing a platonic relationship.

Mae stays busy with work for the remainder of her day. Danny pops into her head on a few occasions, but for the most part she is preoccupied with the business at hand. She doesn't even think much about Joan or anyone else for that matter. She stays in a working “zone” that lasts until it is time to leave.

She is out the door and in her car at exactly one minute past quitting time. She races home to grab a quick bite to eat and take a shower before her Wednesday night yoga class. She looks forward to the time spent stretching and meditating, wanting to release all of the pent up negative energy she has collected in the last 24 hours. She also feels like she needs a break from obsessing about Danny, the object of her desire that she has forbidden herself from having. All of the waffling back and forth has drained her mentally to the point were she needs the refuge yoga provides.

Edwin Rolle drops by Joan's desk on the way out of the office. He pretends that he is just stopping by to say hello, but his real mission is to begin spreading his latest gossip. Figuring that she is the candidate most likely (after himself) to champion a rumor, he makes sure to casually mention his sexual encounter with Henrietta. But Joan doesn't respond with her normal zest for company dirt. Her disinterested harrumph is enough for him to end the encounter quickly, and seek another agent for his rumor-mongering. He hunts down and faux-confides in Oliver Monpierre, the customer service manager and a capable gossiper in his own right. Edwin's news is well received by Oliver, who vows not to tell a soul; a sure sign that it will make it's way to every single pair of ears that pulls a Totally Toys check.

THREE WEEKS IS TOO LONG

Sorry Folks,

Once again I have to come back to my blog, hat in hand, asking for forgiveness. I can go on and on about how LAME I am (BTW-- i think lame has replaced LOVELY as my most frequently used word on the blog), but instead I will assume that I am fogiven and will move on.

Moving on. Sort of...

I'm busy as usual... doing the same assortment of coloring and writing. SHOCKER-- I'm trying to catch up, which of course never actually happens since more stuff always comes up. SO maybe I'll stop bothering to mention that in future blogs. It's always the same crap.

I'm sitting here at Starbucks, taking a break from my GREY'S ANATOMY spec script that I NEED to finish by Monday. It's going a little (and by a little I mean A LOT) slowly because, frankly.... I'm sick of Grey's Anatomy, and here's why: The first class on doing the OUTLINE was 12 weeks long, and since I finished it pretty much by week 5, I was left idling for the remaining 7 weeks. I wanted to start writing, but I figured it wouldn't be a good idea since I knew I was going to take the second class (WRITING THE SPEC). I figured with a new teacher I would have different input, so why waste my time writing it only to have to do some possibly major rewriting. So I waited until the new class (which was like 3 weeks later because I went missed the first 2 classes while on vacation). So all told, I waited about two months between the time I wrote the outline and started writing the script. Now here I am in week 8 of 10 and I have no juice left for my spec. But I need to finish it otherwise I would have wasted the last 3 months.

Then I can move on to my spec of THE CLOSER, which I am itching to do.

ALSO... another reason why my Grey's script is not going smoothly... they KICKED ISIAH WASHINGTON (Burke) off the show, so I had to remove him from my script. I should have redone my outline and reworked the storyline he was in, but I was so friggin tired of the outlining process that I decided to rewrite it on the fly. DAMN Isiah Washington and his damned homophobia!

On the positive side, I've been going to the gym regularly for a month now. I hooked up with some old friends who work out at my gym, and joined in on their workout. It's pretty awesome, actually. We go Mon-Fri from 8am-10am and work out like a bunch of Lou Ferrignos (Gooey Louey to all you Pumping Iron fans). I've lost 10 pounds of flab, but as of yet I am no Incredible Hulk. But maybe next month, with a little hard work and a lot of anabolic steroids I could be...

Anybody know where I can get some inexpensive steroids? Or maybe if someone has Barry Bond's cell phone number, I can ask him direct. Maybe he's got an extra tube of THE CLEAR lying around.

Oh... let me post a picture of the NEW and slightly improved Booch!

Not too shabby, eh? And yes Steve... I bet I think this song is about me!

Okay then... I gotta get back to work on my stupid spec.

More later!
b

LAMEST POST EVER

Hi all...

Its midnight and I didn't blog like I was supposed to. Man, I am one seriously uhreliable blogger... I wouldnt be surprised if I lost the 10 loyal blog readers that I had. And by ten I mean those family members polite enough to check out my blog from time to time.

I was gonna post some photos from my Mexico trip... but they are on my laptop and I'm blogging from my desktop. So the fine visuals will have to wait. It's just as well because I am tired and I don't really have much to say. Perhaps I will recap my day in a poem called....

POETIC RECAP

I woke up early and went to the gym
I did some coloring revisions for my editor
and emailed them to him

Paris returned from his aunt's place
I was happy to see him
so I punched him in the face (okay, I didn't... but I couldn't think of anything that rhymes with place)

I went to my pal Chaz's birthday bash
I had a couple drinks
but I did not crash (I wasn't drunk, people!)

Okay... that was horrible (and partially untrue)! SO I will just stop while I am incredibly behind.

I promise to write more interesting and thoughtful stuff tomorrow... when I'm not quite as tired.


good night!
b

I'm BACK... I'm TIRED...

..and I've got a lot of emails to catch up on. But Xochil and I are safe and sound, and thankful that my brother picked us up at the airport.

I'll check back in tomorrow... along with more promises of blogging and pictures!

good night!
b