Dad said get a real degree. So I went to UC Berkeley, where film meant theory, not cameras. Made movies anyway. Found James Cox in the dorms—same empty wallets, same taste for films that kicked you in the teeth. We transferred to NYU together. This was our thesis. And the birth of “Captain Mauzner”.

Four all-night shoots on Avenue C, late '90s, when the East Village was still raw. Squatters, punks, rent-controlled artists—everyone chasing city dreams before the city got sanitized. Rent tried to capture it. We lived it.

The story: One bodega, one night, crossed wires and cultural misfires. Rashomon meets Clerks meets Go. James wrote and directed. I acted, helped shape the script, and drove our 36-foot RV through Manhattan at 2 a.m., taking out every side mirror in sigh

Won NYU Festival. Student Academy Award. Sundance. HBO bought it. Brought us both to Hollywood.

The language hasn't aged well—some parts are straight cringe. But like Burroughs says in our opening quote: "Language is a virus from outer space."

Watch accordingly.