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The Misadventures of the Pot-Head

I was sort of excited about my experimental screenwriting class, not only because I’d be taking it with the Pot-Head, but because it’s being taught by possibly my favorite instructor of all time. Unfortunately, though, the Pot-Head never showed up. I was asked to call her, which I would’ve done anyway, to find out wassup. It turns out, she managed to fail a class last semester (and an easy class, at that). She adamantly refused to tell the story, but she said she’d talk to the experimental screenwriting professor and see if she thought the workload was feasible on top of this class she needs to repeat.


The topics in literature class is neat. It’s about Spike Lee and August Wilson in particular. As I already noted, Spike Lee is one of my filmmaking heroes. I don’t believe I’ve ever noted that August Wilson is one of my (many) writing heroes.

My sister originally turned me on to his writing; she’s a theatre major, so she reads all sorts of piddling crap that I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. When she reads something good, she forces me to read it, as well. As such, I’ve managed to read the majority of Wilson’s plays and a few biographies, and he’s really fucking good.

I’m glad I’m taking this class, even though I have the feeling that when all is said and done, it’s going to have an ending not unlike the one featured in Do the Right Thing.

Small word about Spike Lee. Apparently he’s coming the first week of March, although nobody knows the specific dates. Also, apparently he “hates white people,” which is not at all surprising to me, although I think it’s an oversimplification of his feelings. Chances are, they’ll lock me in a cage before I’m allowed to meet him, but I’ve snuck word to a few people I know on the faculty in the film department, so we may sneak around somewhere.

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