He Who Walks Alone.

Brian enters Michael's bedroom. 
Brian: Is your mother around?
Michael: No. Why?
Brian: I'm sorry about Jessica.
Michael: Does Mom have to tell everyone? I just want to be left alone.
Brian: She didn't tell me. I had a feeling.
Michael: Great. Have your feelings somewhere else. I put that sign up for a reason.
Brian: That's no way to talk to you're Uncle.
Michael: You aren't really my Uncle. You were just a friend of my dad's.
Brian sits down in Michael's computer chair. Puts a box on his desk. 
Michael: That's my chair. No one sits in it but me.
Brian: Laughs. You are so much like Jean-Luc. 
Michael: I'm nothing like my father. What's the box for?
Brian: We'll get to that. Talk to me about Jessica.
Michael: I don't want to, I just want to be left alone. Grabs one of his guitars off of the wall and sit sits on the edge of the bed turned away from Brian. Michael gets up to grab the other guitar. Brian takes the seat back. 
Brian: Fine. Keep your captains chair.
Michael: What?
Brian: Never mind. Brian starts to play. "With your feet on the air, and your head on the ground..."
Brian tunes the guitar. Better. "Try this trick and spin it, yea."
Michael:  What is that?
Brian: You don't know the Pixies?
Michael: Do you know The Crash Course?
Brian: I don't listen to shitty music. Besides it was Jean Luc's duty to give you the gift of the Pixies. That song is called Where is My Mind? Your dad taught it to me when we were in high school. He taught me to play guitar.
Michael: Sounds like he taught you a lot more than he taught me.
Brian: He wanted to teach you a lot.
Michael: I'm sure.
Brian: When Helen was pregnant he and I would sit out in this park smoking cigars and he'd just talk about all the things he couldn't wait to teach you.
Michael: If you two hadn't been smoking so much, he might still be here.
Brian: I'm sorry you didn't get the time to spend with him I did.
Michael: Are you done? I'm sick of entertaining you.
Brian puts way the guitar and remains standing over Michael.
Brian: I know you are hurting but that doesn't give you the right to be a little shit. You are better than that.
Michael: I'll be whatever the hell I want to be. Just because you hung out with my dad doesn't make you him. You are just a sorry excuse for a father.
Brian: If Jean Luc could hear you--
Michael: But he can't.
Brian: Takes the box off the desk. You aren't ready for this.
Michael: I'm too old for your stupid toys anyway.
Brian: Too bad, you dad really wanted you have it. As he exits. By the way, I knew Jessica was cheating on you.
Michael: Bull shit.
Brian: It's true. It was with Randy wasn't it.
Michael: I didn't tell mom that.
Brian: I told you she didn't tell me. I could tell.
Michael: How?
Brian: You want me to sit down?
Michael: You didn't know.
Brian: You gave her everything. Answered every text as quickly as she sent them. You were always there for her. The perfect boy friend. Then one day you could feel her slipping away, just when you started to feels crazy about her. But she started hanging out with Randy more. Sound familiar?
Michael is silent for a bit.
Brian: I thought so. I could see her pulling away from you. I knew it was inevitable.
Michael: Why hell didn't you say anything if you knew??!!!!
Brian: You wouldn't have believed me. You barely would have listened. And you wouldn't have known what to do to keep her. You believe me now?
Michael: I did everything for her.
Brian: I know you did.
Michael: Why did she turn into a cheating whore?
Brian: Most woman will if you let them.
Michael: Let them? You are saying it was my fault!
Brian: Yes.
Michael: Fuck you! I loved her.
Brian: I know. I had this conversation with Jean-Luc quiet a few times.
Michael: I'M NOT A LOSER LIKE MY FATHER!!!!
Brian: Don't you DARE call your father a loser. He was the best man I have ever known. Will ever know. I'd be nowhere if it wasn't for him.But that doesn't mean he didn't make mistakes. He just wanted you to learn from his rather than fall into the pits of your own.
Michael: What does that have to do with Jessica?
Brian: Because we were a lot older than 16 before we learned what we needed to not let women push us around. Which exactly what happened with her. I've been there. Jean-Luc was there. But together we learned  how to not let that happen. Once your father learned his shit, he was unstoppable. Don't tell Helen that by the way.
Michael: What do you mean?
Brian: You want to know how to make a girl attracted to you? Any girl attracted to you? I know you loved Jessica, but you've always wanted Stephanie.
Michael: How do you know that?
Brian: You are more like your dad than you are willing to admit. You think she's above you. But she isn't. In that box is the best present Jean-Luc could ever give you. It's self respect, confidence, identity, and what is necessary for you to be a man. I didn't become a man until I was 28. I wasted a lot of time. You don't have to. You don't have to be frustrated, wondering when the woman of your dreams will sit next to you on the bus. Or praying to God when it will be your turn. In that box are all the answers.
Michael accepts the box. But hesitates. 
Brian: Open it.
Michael does.
Brian: First off is 500 Days of Summer. It's a movie that is pretty much what's going on with you and Jessica.  But it will show you were you need to go. Next is Silver Bullets. It's the manual of all manuals. Everything you've been taught about women by TV, movies, and other women is a bold faced lie. Women don't know what really attracts them. And they certainly won't admit it. That book will tell you those things and it will tell you how to execute it. And then there is He Who Walks Alone No More. If Silver Bullets is the ultimate manual then He Who Walks Alone No More is the Bible. Recognize the author?
Michael: By Ezekiel?
Brian: That was your father's pen name.
Michael: He wrote a book?
Brian: He redefined everything. Jean-Luc was a fucking genius. He took everything he learned and combined it with everything he knew about psychology and wrote that book.
Michael: Why didn't he give it to me himself?
Brian: He wanted you to have it when you were 13. But I thought you needed to be a little older. With this material you are going to weld a lot of power.  You needed to have your heart broken at least once. You needed to have some concept of the damage you could inflict. Plus, you were with Jessica. So you didn't need it.
Michael: Does mom know all this?
Brian: For the most part. She didn't want you to have any of it though. She wanted you to stay "sweet."
Michael: Does it really work?
Brian: You bet your ass it does.  It will take some time and you are going to have to get over some fears. And you are going to need a friend to learn this with. I never would have learned it if I didn't have your dad pushing me.
Michael: How come I never saw any of this in him?
Brian: Well it got him to one place, then he met your mother and he didn't need it anymore. And once you were born he had pretty much everything he ever wanted. He spent the rest of his life struggling to maintain that. But he went though a lot of pain to get there. He just wanted to give you the short cut. I know this is a lot of material to take in especially since you've got Jessica baggage to deal with. But soon she's going to be nothing to you. I need to get going. If you have any questions let me know.
Michael: Hold up.
Brian: Yes?
Michael: Did he really talk about me when you two used to smoke in the park.
Brian: I'll put it this way. When Jean-Luc and I stumbled on to this material, we read and re-read. Drilled and practiced. Coach each other. Supported each other. Night after night. We were there for each other for glorious victories and miserable failures. We did that for years. And if you total us all those hours on the phone, the text messages, the winging. I guarantee it is less then the time he spent talking about you. Good luck.
Brian exits. Michael opens up 500 Days of Summer. 
Michael: What the hell is a DVD?

Reflections

 The second night in a row I was called off from work. If you believe in God, you might say he is trying to help me out. If you don't believe in God then randomness happened and I am home. After the bus ride, I ventured into the smoke shop by my apartment. I pointed to a cigar priced $8.99. All the stores in Lake City are owned an operated by people of an indiscriminate brown race. Indiscriminate in that I've never taken the time ask. The brown and bearded clerk handed me the one next to it. I corrected him and indicated the one that I wanted. "The big one?" he asked. "Yes, I have a long book to read," I lied. I had two short books to read and a hell of a lot of writing to perform. 


I have now finished that big cigar and I am pretty dizzy and nauseous. My options were either pot or alcohol. Neither of which help with reading. I hope someday soon my reading and writing will not need drugs or stimulants. But for now that is the only way I know of to push through. 


Stephen King is a great writer. I know. I've read two of his books now. The Shinning and On Writing. I don't know why I find reading so difficult. Looking at my computer monitor makes me more nauseous. I find it easier to stare at my key board to write and only glance up for a few seconds to make sure I've made no writing errors. 


I return to my computer from dry heaves. I remember a field trip in 5th grade. Matt and Brad are making fun of me again and have been mercilessly. Some time ago they were supposedly my friends. I retaliate back that one day I'll have some wonderful job and they'll be working in fast food flipping burgers. The sad irony is that quite the opposite is true. I am about to complete my 5th year in the food service industry. Matt has the best life I think I could ever wish for. I don't know what Brad is doing, but knowing his ability to socialize and influence people, I would guess he's doing pretty well himself. 


I lie on the floor trying again to regain my composure. I grab a random Maxim magazine from a subscription from God knows when (I never read them.) I open it up to a random page and see a short article about Scott Pilgrim vs The World. I question realize as I look at the date of the Maxim. Feb 2009. Wierd huh.     

Saturday Short

Thought I'd get going early. Wake up. Get coffee. Read a little Art and Fear. Now for some writing.

------------

James is nervous. He rejects his impulses for safety. He needs to grow up. He's never done this before. He rings the door bell, looking around and hoping no one sees him. James is worried she'll open the door in wavy lace lingerie and he won't be able to keep his composure. He hears foot steps and the door unlocking.

She's wearing a white tee shirt and jeans. Here hair is thick and dark red. "You must be James."
"You must be Spencer." She nods with a smile. Spencer is both playful and professional simultaneously. As she welcomes him in she gently puts her hand on his bicep. James hates it when he gets an indicator of interest when he knows it can't possibly be true. It tears at some insecurity deep inside of him.

"This is a nice place." It is. "It looks like any other house."
"Well it is. What were you expecting?" Spencer is just being playfully sarcastic. James interprets her reaction as insulted and panics.
"I'm sorry. It's not that, it's just that, with the work and stuff, I wasn't expecting stripper poles or anything. I really am sorry."
"You can relax. I'm not going to bite your head off or anything. So you didn't expect me to be a normal person. I'll get over it."
"I just didn't want to be the guy, you know who, was a jerk or, treated you like...I imagine most guys do."
Spencer laughs. "Oh James. In this city guys tend to be on the nicer side."
"Well, that's good"
"I guess. Did you bring any lights?
"Lights?"
"Lighting equipment?"
"I didn't realize...I've not really done this before."
"That's okay. The lighting in this room is pretty good. There is a dimmer on the wall. It controls the lights here. If you want to move the floor lamps around you are welcome to. I'll close the blinds."
James is feeling out of his league. Both his man hood and his professional experience are being challenged.

------------------
OK it's 10am and I now need to get to writing the play. However, if either one of you guys want to give me a suggestion or request as to what happens next I'd love the challenge to take the scene in another direction. I work well off of other people's ideas.

Friday.

Ok....I've got the whole day off. I'm doing laundry now. I've eaten breakfast. It's 9:07 am. I could have gotten out of bed 30 minutes earlier but what ever. My friend Jaryl is coming over sometime. I kinda wish he wasn't. Not that I don't enjoy his company but because I really need to get a ton of writing done. I've got 3 scenes to write this week and I'm work a double on both Monday and Tuesday. (Wednesday being the day I see my writing coach.) But one should focus less on obstacles and more on how to get around obstacles. Also, I'm a big fan of "what ever starts your day sets your day." So to get up, get laundry going and already starting the writing warm up process, I'd say I'm in good shape so far.

I saw Scott Pilgrim Vs The World last night with Tyler. I have to say all around I was very impressed. Very rarely do movies live up to hype as well as this one did.  The fight scenes were impressive for a romance comedy. They were almost perfect. My only gripe with them is at parts they seemed to be lacking a sort of surprise quality to them. Jacki Chan puts it best. He talks about how his fight scenes are; hit, hit, funny thing, (like hitting a guy in the face with a refrigerator door.) In Ong Bak, it's hit, hit, super brutal hit. (Elbow to the eye socket.) It's easy to get lulled in a well choreographed fight scene and little surprise helps us stay interested. But don't get me wrong, the fights really are fantastic.

The movies biggest let down in Michael Cera. He does nothing different than what he ever does. He brings nothing to the character of Scott Pilgrim. In fact, he detracts from him. I've not read the comic, but from the script I got the feeling that the character was stupid in the sort of Goury  from Slayers sort of way. He doesn't get it, but we love him anyway. Michael Cera's aloof "whatever" performance leaves you almost hating Scott Pilgrim sometimes. And yea we are supposed to, but something just doesn't feel right.

But it doesn't matter. The script and Edgar Wrights's directing more than make up for it in droves. The movie is clever and hilarious. The jokes come a mile a minute and just when you think you've got it figured out, it throws you a curve ball. The supporting performance also really sell it. Ellen Wong, Kieran Culkin, Aubrie Plaza, Brandon Routh, Jason Schwartzman, Chris Evans, they all bring a unique quirkiness to their characters that fits the movie extraordinarily well. All in all it comes down to the incredible level of detail that has been put into this film. And it is a very satisfying experience.

Oh shit moment.

I just had an OH SHIT moment.

I'm completely going to rip off Twin Peaks and it will be glorious. I'm very excited about where my play is going.

Warm up 8/15

Someone once told me of an adage among writers. "Once the pen touches paper, it's all fiction." 

Short Thoughts.

I feel like I am falling apart. 

Pursuing permanent change is a push and pull. 

Some days I am a man with super powers. 

Some days I am a foolish weakling. 

Right now I am in the later. 

********

I am going to die someday. 

I'm still not 100% sure I believe it. Like really believe it. 

I can see myself at 55. 

I'm thick like Tony Soprano. I have a bushy white goatee and think white hair. Longer than maybe I should have it. But who the fuck cares right?

My fingers are like sausages. 

I'm rich. I even have a decent amount of power. I've figured out how to live life. Mostly....

I still sit at bars with a shot glass of a brown liquid.

The sadness that has plagued me all my life still sits next to me. 

*******

The Tiger's Torment

Having a lot of trouble writing the 3rd scene of my play. So I'm going to try writing scenes that I won't use in the play but are maybe back story or perhaps a way to explore the characters and locations. The goal is to write a one act (though maybe two act) play which explores an ethereal plane (or dimension) that the main character is trapped in. Examples of this would be The Dreaming from Sandman, The Bathhouse (the whole world actually ) from Spirited Away. Narnia, The Black Lodge, Neverland, Wonderland...I think you get the picture.

Problem? The few worlds I want to create are now vague and unspecific. My main character Gabriel, has a lot of trouble wandering around because I've not created details. Who knew creating an imaginative and elaborate spiritual dimension would actually be hard? I owe Salvador Dali an apology.

So without further ado, here are meditations of the Empty Streets though the eyes of Tiger. (I believe I've talked to both of you about the character Tiger. Well this is pretty much the same character lifted from the other story and put into this one.)

The Tiger's Torment.

I inhabit a world frozen and unmovable . I am a ghost here. I find myself paralyzed and restrained. I gave up something and then gave into something. Gave up something? What was it? Why do I always fall into sleep for so long? His name. What is it?

I have been here so long my shoes have withered through their souls. Now my toes and my heels touch the icy cement. When I was a boy I remember the cement burning my feet on a summer day when your sweat drenched what clothes you had. Back then I'd jump in the grass. Here the grass is like shards of shattered crystal.

I think this world is the structure for the other world. The world I used to live in. The world with sun and people. This world has no sun. In the sky is always the moon and always the floating island. That is where He dwells. Some say He is trapped there. But I feel His presence. Always. Like the way I used to feel God's presence.

Some where in the other world a mirror is being made. Someone is crafting one. A light goes out and window becomes dark enough to become one.  Every body of water is one.  Mirrors are the window into the other world. As far as a mirror reflects, it's reflections exist here. A reflection is unstoppable. I am lighter than a feather in the path of the smallest pebble. I must always watch out for mirrors and those looking in it. A busy cross street and a rainstorm  are a dangerous combination.

The Kaonashi maintain this world. They keep changing it to more accurately match the other world. They ignore me. I am evidence of their failure.  I chose not to become one of them. I kept my identity. But the empty pit in my stomach gets bigger everyday. An intense anxiety, like when you've done something very wrong. An authority maybe knows it. And they want to talk to you. You feel that ten times over. Then it concentrates into the size of a baseball and rests in the lowest part of your stomach. Everyday it grows just a little little bit. That was the price to not become them. And yet more I pay.

TigEr?
I can hear him.
Of coUrsE yoU Can.
I can't get him out--
nO, yOU cAN't. :)
He's always alwaYs here hEre.

Stop it. Please.
oF cOuRSe, TigEr. i'll sTop iT.
Why does he always lie?
I nEveR lie. I tEll YOu whAt maTteRS.
Nothing matters anymore.
TigEr, tHat's sImpLY not trUE.   H e r e, let met make it p l e a s a n t.
The music starts to play. It is sweet. Like what m o t h e r used to sing to you.
I listen. A microsecond is an hour's worth of feelings. I cease to function for one minute.

Thank you.
yOU aRE WeLcoMe, TigEr.

Do I have to?
yES. yOu dO. it iS VeRy iMporTaNt.
I'm sorry.
iT's oKay.
What do you need?
i NEeD yOu to meET Gabriel.
Why is his name so...so... um...
UNcorRUptEd?
Tears come. I can't stop them.
bEcAUSe, yOU neED tO shOW hiM tHe wAy. 


Have I done this before?
Hello?
He's gone for now. But He never leaves me. A circle of light appears. I step inside and it begins to move. This is how I will find Gabriel. He is not close. The trek will be long. But it is warm in the light. The Kaonashi don't ignore me now. They stare. I don't think they can hurt me. That's why He needs me. I think I know his name.

EriK.

Red Light Chicken Sandwich

      I slammed on the breaks and smothered the steering wheel's horn as the car sped through the intersection. The break pedal is not smooth when you stop that quickly. It bumps and grinds as if you were stepping on resistant gravel.  Maybe I need to get new breaks. I looked up at the green light ahead of me and the thought occurs, later than one would think. That guy just ran a red light.
      Life has trained me to never be too sure of myself. I have known to be wrong. So when I an event happens that would provoke a strong reaction, I tend to take a moment to either find out more detail or to double check whether I have not done something wrong myself. Thus, the double checking of the green light.  Once that was verified, I looked around to notice pedestrians holding up their hands with palms up and mouthing "what the fuck?" or other such comments.  The offending vehicle abruptly pulled into a parking lot.
      After a moment, I took a breath and continued on my way. I won't lie, I certainly was shaken by the experience.  Anything that gets your adrenaline pumping is going to leave your hand less than steady than it was before. But I wouldn't say I was angry. The traffic lights of downtown Seattle have a way of blending in. When I first started driving downtown there had been more than one occasion where I have almost missed a red light myself. I guess it happens.
     Later however, I was not able to keep my cool so gracefully.  After my wine tasting I went to a McDonald's and even though there were two registers, the lines of people had converged into one. In narrow spaces, i.e. a downtown establishment, it is just easier and more natural for people to form one line and then when the cashier opens up the next person steps up. I also find this approach more fair. You could be in one line with either a talkative person or perhaps a new employee and even though you've been in line longer the people in other lines blaze right passed you.
     Abruptly, one of the employees, a scraggly, scruffy, thin, and almost old man, yells out "TWO REGISTERS TWO LINES! It's not that hard people." For some reason this condescension inflamed me.  I look back and see how the seating area cuts into the area that the proposed multiple line theory would necessitate.  Seconds later a third cashier opens a register. Now the newly formed two lines must attempt to shuffle into three lines and then ultimately back to the original one line.
     I get to the front of the line. "A Southern chicken sandwich. Just the sandwich." (Because they always have to offer you the meal.) To which the woman replies, "Crispy or grilled?" Me: "I wasn't aware the Southern chicken sandwich came grilled." (The Southern chicken sandwich is a rip off of Chick Fil A's sandwich. It's really the only fast food I'll eat. And it doesn't come grilled.) Woman: "You wanted the number 8?" Me: "Yes." "You said number 7." "No I didn't I said the Southern chicken sandwich." "Do you want the meal or..." "Just the sandwich."
     Car speeding through a red light potentially costing me much pain, permanent injury, and thousands of dollars in bills and repairs? Meh. Someone at a McDonald's talking down to me? I want to rip their fucking heads off.

First of many.

My name is Benjamin and I a writer and former actor. Despite the fact that I am very invested in writing at the primary focus of my life, I have yet to complete hardly anything. I am in the process of writing a one act play but when I sit down to write I am obstructed by the inevitably writer's block. However one of the ways to combat this is to do some warm up writing. And thus, the purpose of this blog. 

In addition to warm ups, I really want to put something to paper every day. Opposed to other days where I sit an conceptualize, which albeit are useful in the long run, I feel I need to have more individual pieces of work accomplished.  So this blog is the first step in many to "step up my game." Enjoy.