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Jim Stark

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(no subject) [Jan. 27th, 2008|08:54 pm]
Jim Stark
Best Male Actor in a comedy: Alec Baldwin, 30 Rock!


Best Female Actor in a comedy: Tina Fey, 30 Rock!

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To Nathan. [Dec. 24th, 2007|05:58 am]
Jim Stark

It's so funny. We didn't even hang out, like, at all in the past month or so, yet I still feel like I'm losing a really big part of me. These feelings are so overtly conflicted for numerous reasons. The first being, why should I miss you this much when you weren't even that much a part of my recent life? Still, you were there. If I needed you, you were there. I had that available to me. I felt like we were always waiting to REALLY be best friends, like waiting for the time, even though we kind of were. The second reason being, that you're just moving to Chicago. It's not some other world, and tickets are cheap, but I don't know, I feel really empty tonight, really lonely, and I know It's the culmination of various things, but nonetheless you leaving has affected that greatly.

I remember watching Garden State, when Andrew Largeman says, "You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone." I really felt like that tonight; I feel like I'm losing a great many people who are close to me, and that I have so few actual, genuine connections anymore. Like I was in this large huddle, right in the center, then everyone dispersed, but I had no idea which way to go, so I just remained there. And here I am.

Either way, this has certainly become more about me than you it would seem, and I'm sorry for that. I guess you just being there, in Tampa, was a comfort for me. I always knew you would be there to talk about G.I Joe, or Transformers, or movies, or whatever. I guess we both kind of took that for granted.

I love you, buddy. You're my brother. Think of a time for me to visit, and I'll make it. Keep the Head Project alive. Keep me on staff. Keep me in the know. Let's be more involved now than we were. I wish you nothing but the best.

I had all these things I wanted to say, to write, and now, It's seemingly vanished. I'm sure we'll get some sort of real time comment conversation going though, so I guess just get a hold of me when you get there so I know you're safe.

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(no subject) [Nov. 28th, 2007|04:10 am]
Jim Stark
Dear human race,

Please stop spelling "definitely," "definately."

It's not so hard as to be so consistently misspelled. Just think of "finite." There are no a's welcome here.


PS. Posting in Livejournal is liberating.
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(no subject) [Jul. 18th, 2007|07:17 pm]
Jim Stark
blah blah blah
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(no subject) [Jan. 18th, 2006|11:29 pm]
Jim Stark
On the matter of comics.

So this thing, this A Coming of Age (which happens to be the title of the book I was writing) thing, apparently Jeff and I have gone our separate ways, much to my regret. I wish it wasn't so to be quite honest, however I don't see much of a way to have avoided it; I believe I wrote and prodded him ad nauseam, yet to no avail. He seemed unmotivated, and I don't fault him for that, but as I said to him, it's not the place I'd like to be in right now. He told me once that he would have liked to have the first issue done by the end of October, yet it wasn't until mid November that I even saw a rough sketch of the first page. Granted I liked what I saw, but I related the fact that if we were to ever turn this, or any project, into something serious we would have deadlines and editors to answer to, and the kind of haphazard attitude he was showing wasn't what I went into this looking for.

I'm again looking for an illustrator, however I'm hesitant, as what I found with Jeff seemed something special; we could brainstorm like no others. We had ideas for post-apocalyptic (affectionately dubbed "cyberpunk") comics, reluctant superhero comics, coming of age comics. Quite honestly whenever I made a joke, in the book or otherwise, he was always right there with me, and it felt like we could run the entire gamut if we wanted to. Regardless, I don't just want any Joe Schmoe illustrator to do this with me. I don't want someone who solely does the work so much as someone who can really get into the work.

Of course there's a great potential that me writing any of this is solely lip service, and perhaps all for naught. Regardless, recently I've taken an interest in the art of one Randall Whiteis. His art can apparently be found here (there's some free promotion for you, sir). It seems perfect for what I'm looking for, so I sent him a MySpace message. I remember a while back, Ciera mentioning to me that she had a friend who would be interesting in pursuing the project with me, however, regretfully, I never found out who this person was however. Perhaps it was him and perhaps not. We shall see, I suppose.

Anyway, wish me luck, and if any of you have any insight or input, as far as illustrators go, or otherwise, do let me know.
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(no subject) [Jan. 17th, 2006|06:00 pm]
Jim Stark
So here's a little story I thought I would transcribe for your enjoyment. It’s breaching the twelve hundred word point, so I won’t fault you for passing it over for the shorter posts and surveys on your friends list.

Last week, on a Tuesday just like today I went to my 7 PM class, the same I will tonight. I remember being slightly excited, for lack of a better word, about it since it was in the Fine Arts building, and I hadn't ever had a reason to be in the Fine Arts building.

So I went in and found my class, but noticed no one was inside. I assumed this was why there were two girls standing outside the room, only slightly off to the side (so much so, you might not realize they were standing there for this class, though they were). So this one girl, cute and quite thin, with flip flops and a brown sweater to compliment her hair, says to me, "He's never on time." (We'll call her Jane for the sake of storytelling.) I laughed and smiled, and appreciated the gesture, that of speaking to a stranger, as it's so seldom done. Everyone always seems so reserved and so immersed in their own agendas, but this is neither here nor there. The point was I attempted to engage myself in a shallow discussion (I say shallow as we're in the hall, and there's really better times and places for depth) with these two girls.

(I promise I'll get to the meat and potatoes of this soon; I'm just getting in some details)

The Professor eventually comes strolling down the hall, a jolly man with an actual cup of what I assumed to be soda and what I knew to be ice; I remember appreciating the casualness of that. We all meandered into the class and I remember saying something like, "I'm going to hide out with you guys," to the two ladies I had recently spoken with, and I did. We all ended up sitting in the back row of what was shown to be a delightfully small class. So the class progresses and Jane breaks out some Cheez-Its™ and a King Size Reese's™ pack, a snack which I find to be quite massive for a girl of her size. She never opens the Reese’s however, which really makes sense, not after the Diet Coke anyway.

The class proceeds slowly but surely, like a turtle in a race, and eventually we all take a break. I head to the soda machines for a bottle of water, which I regret forgetting to have brought, and when I return the professor and Jane are outside smoking, as students and faculty of the smoking persuasion usually do when on a break. This took me aback as she never struck me as a smoker; no, in all of the in-depth forty or so minutes I got to know her, via sitting next to her, I had NO idea! How could this have slipped past me? (Please note the sarcasm and self depreciation.) Regardless, as I engaged myself in their conversation, eventually Jane said something to the tune of, “Oh, my boyfriend has this HUGE truck! It’s like a Silverado blah, blah, blah.” The rest of the conversation turned to trucks or automobiles, or similar such things that held no interest to me. I really just found it curious the way she said “my boyfriend” so nonchalantly. It seemed such a random statement.

This morning, I apparently got into another class about five minutes late due to a discrepancy between my watch and the class clock. This class was quite large, too large for everyone to have a seat actually, and as I walked in I headed for the corner, containing the only chair that caught my eye; a quite comfortable one, I might add, as I sat in this same chair, with no accompanying table, the last class.

As I was sitting down a girl whom I also thought happened to be quite cute, someone who even slightly caught my eye on the first day, said to me, “Looks like you’re the outcast today.” I smiled back, and we both laughed a bit, enough not to be a distraction. Again, it was a cordial and friendly exchange. We’ll call her Jane Part Deux, or JPD for brevity. I happened to notice, about ten or so minutes later, directly in my line of sight was George, a jovial, intelligent gentleman I had known from previous semesters. I called his name and shook his hand, saying hello (not literally “hello” however, lest I sound like a robot), and doing so almost under my breathe I told him I hadn’t even see him upon entering the class.

Eventually, same as before, the end of the class came and I got up to leave. I waited outside for a moment, to speak to George, yet he never came. After a minute or so, I went back in, and both George and JPD were still in the class, getting their chat on. I approached them, and thought, heck, it would be a good opportunity to get this JPD’s name. Before I could say anything, however, she turns and says to me, “Let me see your tattoo!” Apparently she had either seen it the previous week, or had seen it peeking through my blazer this week; either way, I pulled back my sleeve and showed her. She seemed to like it, before proceeding to say, “My boyfriend wants one with those stars, what are those, do they have a particular name?” I told her they were called nautical stars, but not before I was totally bewildered by her almost identical usage of the “my boyfriend” phrase! I was taken aback! Again! In any case, it didn’t bother me, and I continued my talk with her and George until we all left the class.

(By this point I know I've lied about the meat and potatoes thing. They were apparently nowhere in sight when I wrote that, and for that I apologize.)

Now I know the common consensus is that this is how you nonchalantly mention that you’re taken, or in a relationship, or off the market, specifically, perhaps, when someone of disinterest is in question, but it seemed so misplaced here. In both situations I remained quite stand-offish, as I had no idea who these ladies were; only my inner monologue knew I thought they were cute, and my interest ended there really, so I knew it wasn’t an attempt to get any subtle point across. It was so odd. Maybe I’m just too dysfunctional to appreciate the use of a simple, subtle colloquialism such as “my boyfriend.” I hadn’t felt dejected, not in the least, as in one of the situations I wasn't even the one being spoken to, and in the other I was being complimented by someone who had taken the initiative to speak to me. There was something about the general statement that I couldn’t appreciate, perhaps how vague it was? Something about it just didn’t and doesn’t sit right with me. I think these situations, independent of one another are nothing tremendously interesting, but when they were coupled, in such a close proximity to each another, it left me wondering.

Well, that was my story, although it appears I lied about the entertaining part, and for that I apologize. If anyone has any input or opinion on the matter, have at it; we’ll chat it up. As an aside, however, I think words are all around better when they’re coupled with the suffix “-ity” rather than “-ness.” I’m so inclined to use the word “vaugity,” rather than “vagueness” and “casualty” rather than “casualness,” although one doesn't exist and another means an altogether different thing. Que Sera, I suppose, thus is language. Perhaps that’s the moral of this whole post, no?
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(no subject) [Jan. 5th, 2006|04:22 pm]
Jim Stark
I interrupt your friends list for this picture of me in a fake mustache.

Image hosted by Photobucket.com
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Stan Tookie Williams [Dec. 1st, 2005|08:57 pm]
Jim Stark
I'm posting this here in the hopes that many of you will take 15 seconds out of your day and sign this petition. Perhaps with the hope that you might take an additional 30 seconds out of your day and post this petition, or even this post in it's entirety (as I give you full permission to do so) if you don't desire to rewrite something out, in your own journal.

The following are two petitions to grant clemency, by Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, to Stanley "Tookie" Williams. For those who don't know (and I'm quoting), "the State of California has set December 13 as the execution date for Stanley Tookie Williams, whose remarkable change from co-founder of the Crips gang to Nobel Peace Prize nominee was made into the movie "Redemption: The Stan Tookie Williams Story," starring Jamie Foxx. Williams is a five-time Nobel Peace Prize nominee, four-time Nobel Literature Prize nominee, 2005 Presidential Call to Service awardee, and author of the Tookie Protocol for Peace. He maintains innocence for the crimes he was sentenced to death for, and he faced racist discrimination throughout his trial."(http://www.nodeathpenalty.org/)

For more detailed information on Stan Tookie Williams, his alleged crimes, and his accomplishments please look here:


The petitions are located here:


And here:


By signing them you'd be doing the right thing. As I think about it, it's literally the least I could do. Thanks in advance to anyone who takes the time to sign. I can't imagine living in a world where Nobel Peace Prize Nominees are executed.
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(no subject) [Nov. 18th, 2005|07:27 pm]
Jim Stark
Sometime in 2001, after my grandfather passed away, it was decided my grandmother would come and live with us. We decided we would put an addition of a second larger master bedroom and bathroom on the rear of the house, which was to become my parents. The room that was theirs would become mine, and my old room would now belong to my grandmother after the addition was completed. I'll note that perhaps a year earlier my grandmother started showing signs of Alzheimer's. One night, or morning perhaps, as it's become a blur since then, she woke up and notified us she was having a hard time moving. It was determined that she had a stroke in her sleep, and was quickly taken to the emergency room. After this event, it was decided that in her state she wasn't really fit to live with us; her state being the combination of Alzheimer's and a stroke, which severely inhibits the brain and basic motor functions apparently. I remember my parents looking around and finally finding Menorah Manor, an assisted living facility that seemed to fit our needs. We moved my grandmother in, and she seemed happy; well, perhaps pleasant is a better word. She seemed well taken care of. She spent the better part of four years there. Tonight the phone rang and my mother answered it. A cheery voice responded and asked for Rosemary Lepore, and was informed she was speaking to her. In such a nonchalant way as could be understood but not expected, my mother was informed that my grandmother had passed away at 7:05 PM tonight. My mom was taken aback to say the least, primarily by the nurse's tone, but she, like me, didn't know how to feel. She was numb and quite rattled. I'll explain further.

I remember at first, I visited her here and there, which over time was reduced to not visiting at all. In the long run, it has become one of those things that both frustrates and comforts me. On one hand I wish I did visit more, she was my grandmother after all. Yet on the other, the last coherent conversation I would have with her would not have taken place within those walls. She barely remembered my name. In some ways I feel like I lost my grandmother four years ago. It was heartbreaking, and it was not how I would have wanted to remember her. It isn't how I remember her, and for that I'm thankful. However I'd love to attribute my lack of visitation to this miraculous hindsight, but the truth is I'm just bad at things like this. Things of life and death and sickness. I'm bad at confronting them and I'm bat at accepting them. I'd like to say this was a quality I've all but done away with, as I'm quite eager to go to any sort of service for my grandmother. To say goodbye, or to say that I loved her, an event that, five years ago, would find itself narrowly avoided. I remember when my grandfather died. I accepted it, but not fully. I think it took me a week or so later to finally break down crying in Gali's driveway as I tugged at her pant legs. I remember mentioning I would never get to say goodbye, or tell him I loved him. Regardless, I don't feel as bothered by this as I assumed I would. I knew the time was coming, morbid as that is, and in some ways I'm relieved. It was akin to watching someone die very slowly and live very arduously, and in a sense I've had four years to come to terms with this. This isn't about me though, not at all. When all is said and done my grandmother passed away tonight, and I shall never get another opportunity to avoid a visit. That sentence will always carry weight, no matter what the preceding circumstances are.

Her name was Rose Freda. She was loved and she will be missed.
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(no subject) [Nov. 16th, 2005|01:43 am]
Jim Stark
This is a little section I like to call "Movies to see this weekend." But first, here's a short interjection about a chode!

So I had just parked my car in the parking garage and was heading toward the elevator on my way to work as a middle aged man (ah, my patented descriptor) held the door for me. I got inside and thanked him, and we both kind of stood there for a second. Since he was there first, it was on his head to press any buttons that may need pressing, and doing so myself would be against basic elevator etiquette. This put me in a kind of uncomfortable situation, as I noticed the 1st floor light wasn't lit. I waited for a second, giving him the benefit of the doubt, and after no movement, he pressed the button for the first floor, which I assumed he had done already. The clincher was that even after this, the light still wasn't lit. Maybe it was broken, I thought, and a moment later, however a moment longer than it usually takes, we were heading down. Good for us. Or so I thought: what I dreaded most had taken place and we stopped on simply a lower floor which was not the first. My greatest fears had been confirmed. He STILL hadn't pressed the button, even the second time, someone on a lower floor was simply heading down as well! What a chode. I mean really, It's one thing to miss the button once, but twice? And I couldn't say anything, I mean what kind of thing does it say to press the button after someone else fails at it twice? "I'm sorry that you're such a failure that you missed the button two times. Let me help you." That would have made for an immensely comfortable elevator ride. Maybe It would have landed me on his Christmas list. Regardless, I was just thankful we had more company and several more reasons (and bodies) to check the button.

Also, on a similar note, you know what I hate? When I'm heading down, and someone joins me, on the same floor or one en route, and they simply have to press the 1st floor button when they get on. Sure, it avoids the entire above situation altogether, but really, even after all that, I have a little more faith in my common man than to assume they can't press a simple button. I mean really, If you're getting in a down elevator with someone already in it, where did you think I was headed, buddy?

I hope you've enjoyed my elevator escapades. Here are the movies:

Walk the Line

Good Night and Good Luck

Capote (interested, but not entirely for some reason. I'm sure I'll enjoy it, but there's a lack of motivation here)

The Squid And The Whale

...haha, just kidding! Sorry, Jamie Foxx.

I happen to be off Thursday (after 9ish), Friday, and Saturday if anyone is interested in accompanying myself and a couple friends.
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