JUDE LAW WHO?

Two years ago I accompanied two friends to a screening of a film written, directed and produced in Chicago, at the 2003 Chicago International Film Festival. The film was so depressingly bad that I can't even recall it's name, but we didn't go for our own enjoyment. We went to support a friend who had a five minute talking role. As soon as he had existed the screen, which was about the same time I started considering self mutilation as a pleasant way to pass the time, we left for the pub. Shortly after that, the actor friend moved to L.A. to pursue his dreams and two years on he's staring in another film. This time in Kansas, with a budget, script and actors who can act. I have very little information about the film presently, it may be titled "Rigged" not sure, but in the mean time you can click on the image below of said hunk and view some stills of the filming. Step a side Johnny Depp, Chad Ortis has arrived!

REVERSE WALKER

EMOTIONAL BLACKMAIL

An envelope from India arrived today. I knew what was coming. My stomach tightened as I could feel the emotions welling up with anticipation of what was waiting inside. Sat at my desk, in front of the computer with Eve sleeping by my feet, I felt shallow and ungrateful for my life. A one page, double sided letter, folded in three. At the top was a sticker with all the factual information printed on it and a barcode for faster processing. Two names clearly printed next to their corresponding numbers. Mine and Nikhat's. This was the third letter I had received form Children International since joining in September. The first a thank you and welcome to a great cause...I didn't think about it at the time. The second gave me the name, Nikhat Naaz, her personal data and the heart wrenching photograph of a helpless three year old girl. I knew then that they had me. Today's letter was to hit me even harder. Today's letter was the one where I signed my life over. The front side had three dedicated boxes: Letter, Drawing, Translation. In the first box, written in pencil was tightly packed Indian script, with a little printed bumble bee in the top left hand corner. The second had an outlined dog printed in it; orange body, yellow head, purple nose and black eyes that Nikhat had diligently coloured in, only going over the outline in difficult spots. I was already there. The third was written in biro, addressed directly to me, it stated how grateful the author was to me for sponsoring Nikhat and how happy she was to be in school, how she loved to study. It was Nikhat's mother; a women ten years younger then me. Turning the letter over, more dedicated boxes appeared. Five this time. Asking questions and giving information pertaining to Nikhat's every day life. I stop at the first box, blocking out my material being and Nikhats misfortune...Friends and Family call her Sweety.