Christian Vesper Fanmail

Dear Mr. Vesoer,

I think you're a wonderful television executive.  

Probably one of the better.  

Most possibly one of the best with a law degree from a Midwestern law school.  This degree makes you all the more intimidating, which, in the hard knock world of television, likely makes you do your job even better!  Which is crazy to think about!

Your choices in material rival G-d's own, which makes sense since as you're as close to a deity as any mortal I've met.  I once met someone who might've been closer to G-d who lived in the Cass Corridor in Detroit but he was institutionalized.  His name was Larry and he walked around with a boombox chanting in an unknown language.  If you have an impulse to do that, which you might, I would certainly resist it, especially in this digitronic age of Walkmen, portable CD players, and rollerblades (which I hear. from your old pal Andy Dick, you use to get to work).  I mention all of this only as it's something you should watch out for with your spiritual capabilities.

Beyond you're amazing taste in material meant for the telly, your diverse and expansive taste in clothing is astounding and thus noteworthy.  That's why I, in a purely innocent fashion (no pun intended), began to send you pictures of clothing from "boutiques" in the 10eme (that's district to us middle Americans) in Paris which I passed on my way to work this Spring.  As you've not responded to ANY of my sage advice, I thought it prudent to rev up the old blog and post a picture of a recommendation that a "boutique" shop owner offered for you when I offered a picture (taken from the web and attached above the picture of the recommended clothing) of you and someone much less famous.  See below.

(picture of Christian.  Note the tan and the devilish grin.)

(Picture of clothing from the 10eme in Paris that would fit well, methinks, on Mr. Vesper, and could be stored safely in a walk-in closet, if one were to have such a space.)

I certainly have much to learn from you, Mr. Vesper, and I hope one day to have a percentage of the wisdom and humility that you possess and gratefully offer the lessers in the world.  To get to the gut of it I hope this will only advance our correspondence as these threads are chic as fuck and I can get a deal on them.

Look forward to your thoughts.

Best regards-

Nick

from the colombian section of paris

It's blaringly obvious that The Blog hibernates in the Winter.  Sadly, I do not, and in a twist of fate, following an amazing Sundance, which followed being detained at the Colombian border, which preceded a few weeks in the Bahamas, and definitely some Less Than Zero nights in West Hollywood, I've somehow ended up in Paris, living in the 10th, curling moustaches, becoming frustrated by jeu de palme, speaking spanish instead of french, drinking red wine and enjoying the seasonal shift to tar tar, and working in an office all day.

so what else, beyond that.  we sold ANOTHER EARTH to fox searchlight.  brit became the it girl or whatever that means (and it's so convenient because there's already an -it in her name). mike signed with william morris.  i started working for a rad company called memento films who are totally wonderful and beautifully amazing.

but to avoid the long wind, expect pictures of late mornings and early nights and empty bottles of rose.

Happy Holidays/ Visit from the Parents/Ryan Werner Redux

Yes dear children I know I've been neglect, and, accordingly in the posher suburbs of your States, I'd likely lose possession of you.  But much has transpired and much continues to and I gladly look forward to another island to reside in for the holiday where internet moves at a speed akin to us gaining reception of the keys to our new apartment (and thus entrance therein) (translation really fucking slow!)

Until the next one, feast your eyes on my holiday card, a Chris T. original...

And how could I forget the visit from my dear parents?  My mother, shouldering thru an elbow surgery, and my father, tasting the local alcohols.  And me,  Jack, and Tom, drinking girly drinks that could barely inebriate the likes of Ryan Werner.

Oh Colombia..!

Sundance/ANOTHER EARTH/Remembering Home

I'm feeling as removed from the US as I have since I lived in Havana.

That is not necessarily a bad thing--just that it's easy to forget that you have a life there.  Simple things.  The people who are, when the geographic is applicable, of importance--friends, fellow drinkers, ex-girlfriends and lovers, neighbors, annoying office mates, Mickey from the Ear and George from Pao and even that rat bastard crumbsucker Stefan.  And Nora--let's not get into that bungled procedural.  In a way I can't totally nail down, they remain as abstract memories  triggered from characters in films you see late in Santa Marta that bare only the slightest resemblances in appearance or demeanor. to the figures in the faded Iphotos.

But on films and memories, and straying from post-Xanex musings, a film that I worked on in the not too distant past and that is without a doubt more of a moving picture in my mind was just accepted to competition at Sundance.  To boot, it was written, co-written, and directed by two of my favorite people in the world--Mike Cahill and Brit Marling.

Mike and I have been conspiring and collaborating since our first days of University, and Brit, Mike and I for an almost equal amount of time.  We've traversed the Go-Go clubs of DC; the depths of Central Havana when Mike became convinced that he was allergic to his mattress in Vedado; and been asked to leave some of the posher bars and clubs in nyc for trying to swing from chandeliers.

It's been over ten years of working together and I'm proud more than anything to have an imprint, however small, on ANOTHER EARTH and to have helped in my own small way to shepherd it to the most prominent festival in the United States.

I'm exhausted.  But these pictures aren't.

Weirdly enough I can't find anymore of Cahill.  I suppose  would be lousy as an archivist.