Formerly Dangerous

Say goodbye to Formerly Dangerous. The Substack era is over. And, hey, thank god for the Substack era. It is an era marked by chaos and constant experimentation with formats. And while I enjoyed the overall Substack toolbox, I do not regret leaving this platform. I think they stand for some transparently shitty things, and they’ve got the same venture capital brain rot that has ruined all kinds of businesses and people in the last twenty years.

When I went to see the 50th anniversary IMAX re-release of Jaws this summer, I went with a large group of old friends. I’ve been in LA for 35 years now. That’s mind-boggling to me. When I was a kid, I moved constantly, and it felt like I was constantly having to start over with friends and community. I was 20 when I moved here, and for the first time, I stayed somewhere.

Quick note. Today’s podcast is a little uneven technically. Even though we’re in our third season, the demands and variables of recording from four different locations each week sometimes throws some sand in the gears. Ride that volume control and I promise next week’s better. I know people have this picture of the way the online community works, like there’s a clubhouse where everyone hangs out and everyone knows each other by sight, but that’s not true.

There is no single canon. We all have movies we love. Some of them are great movies. Some of them are terrible movies. Love does not care. Love is unreasonable. Love is blind. We love what we love, and the louder you love it, the better. One of my favorite things is sharing a film I love with someone. Even if they don't love it the same way I do, that experience imparts something about you to that person.

It is a crazy week in America, so pretty much anything we’d release this week would feel strange. It sometimes feels insane to be writing newsletters and recording podcasts and watching movies while everything is so tense and strange in the world. Then again, making and discussing and thinking about art has been the way I’ve processed this chaotic world since I’ve been old enough to read or watch things.

The migration to Ghost is underway. For now, I’m still posting things here, and I will right up until the last moment, when everything switches over. That should be before the end of the month for sure, and sooner if possible. I like the way things look at Ghost, and I’m starting to learn how to build articles over there. Part of the issue is that I’ve been using Substack since late 2019.

It’s been a busy summer. My primary attention has been split between two projects. One’s for television, and one’s a feature film. Both of them represent dreams for me in different ways. Working on them, I am constantly thinking about why I love the things I love, and why they work on me the way they do. It’s really made me focus on the art I love, which is thrilling, and one of the ways I’ve tried to make use of that energy is with the new season of The Hip Pocket.

Man, August has not been a lot of fun. I hate being dependent on technology, but the truth is we’ve all handed over aspects of our lives to it. How much you hand over is something you can try to control, but when something that you depend on completely collapses, it can send your entire world out of orbit, and that’s exactly what happened to me. I’ve written here about my Plex server, and I know many of you still don’t know exactly what that is.

There is no single canon. We all have movies we love. Some of them are great movies. Some of them are terrible movies. Love does not care. Love is unreasonable. Love is blind. We love what we love, and the louder you love it, the better. One of my favorite things is sharing a film I love with someone.

Ten years ago. 3650 days. I was nervous. I remember that much. When I left my marriage, I did so because I was desperately lonely, and when you feel that way even though you have someone in your house and your bed every day, something is clearly wrong. I don’t blame my ex-wife. We just weren’t built to sustain a marriage. We were too different, and the longer we were together, the more pronounced our differences became, and the harder they were to ignore. The first year I was single was chaos.