In no particular order (thank goodness for browser history)
Monday, December 7, 2009
Cloud exercise
So I ended up with Spencer feeling frustrated in regards to dealing with adults, vengeful towards Timmy, superior to his peers, proud of himself and all his talents, invisible because he's a child, and afraid of not ever being recognized for all his skills and abilities. Situations involved him going to a birthday party with other kids (kind of done with the classroom scene so I tried to think of more interaction with adults), him going to the doctor and getting a shot, him spending the weekend with grandma and grandpa, him tormenting the babysitter when mommy and daddy need a night out, daddy introducing him to the local Very Little League baseball team and trying to get him more interested in organized sports. But I haven't been able to pick a scene yet, although I think someone suggested seeing Spencer and his father interact and Spencer discovering that his father who seemingly speaks to him on the same level really thinks of him as "just a kid." So I want to toy with that idea too, just haven't gotten a chance to do it yet. And I think I should go to bed sometime soon.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Rewriting "Spencer throws a rock"
I realized when looking over my first draft, it is not broken up very well into paragraphs. My writing often goes into stream of consciousness long sentences and paragraphs, something I have been guilty of ever since grade school. So this is a part of a paragraph.
Timmy has just pushed Spencer down the sliding boards and everyone has laughed at and taunted Spencer with their "Spencer is a doodie-face" song.
Original:
So I threw a rock at him and hit him in the nose and he started bleeding and he started crying like a little biatch and told on me. A little blood and he goes all soft, effin loser. The other kids stopped the dumb doodieface song in fear of my mighty arm, and resumed playing as if nothing ever happened.
The Remix:
Timmy was still pointing and laughing at me from the top of the sliding board. More kids were starting to gather around at the foot of the sliding board joining in on the doodieface song as I was hastily brushing the dirt off my face and clothes. Nobody calls Spencer Grigsby a doodie face. I had to set them straight. Let everyone know I was no doodie face at all. GrownUps try to keep the play area free of dangerous materials, so that's why I always bring my own. I always keep a small rock in my pocket for emergencies and now was the time to use it. It's about the size of a gumball so it's rarely detected. My heart was racing as I reached inside my right pants pocket. I felt like I was transforming into a raging beast, kind of like the Incredible Hulk. I growled a deep threatening growl at Timmy, my teeth clenched in anger. I began taking huge breaths and standing up taller and I sensed the kids around me could see and feel the transformation occuring right before their eyes. Timmy was too busy laughing at me to realize it though. With a super quick move (and impeccable aim I must add), I launched the rock directly at Timmy's stupid face. BAM! Got him right in the nose! Owned! He was so shocked he lost his balance and fell back from the top of the sliding board right onto the ground. A hush went over the crowd of kids. Total silence. Timmy started to get up, holding his nose. He looked in his hands, saw what must have been a speck of blood and freaked. Wailed like a brand new baby. I looked around at the other kids, daring them to tattle. They all went back to playing like nothing ever happened.
Now I think that's too long and there's probably more fat to trim. *sigh*
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Crossing the Threshold in Shaolin Soccer
So I've been trying to think of a movie I love that fits the mythic storytelling pattern that is not Lord of the Rings or The Matrix or Finding Nemo...because those were already mentioned in this weeks note and happen to be my favorite movies. Soooo, I had to think about other movies I love that might fit and I remembered this gem, Shaolin Soccer. Brief synopsis: Sing, our epic hero, is a shaolinquan kung fu master who forms a soccer team with his brothers who haven't practiced in 5 years. They are a bit rusty at first but begin beating team after team using their kung fu skills until they battle Team Evil, who have been injected with some drugs giving them way super human capabilities. It's a hilarious flick. I'm gonna go watch it again this week. I bet my almost-3-year-old would like it. She dug Stephen Chow's kid's film CJ7...anyway, back to the point of the post.
Team Shaolin arrived at the soccer field for their first game, surprised that no supporters showed up to cheer them on, as their coach promised they would. The captain of the opposing team surveyed his competition as they assumed their positions on the field.
The opposing team wore official looking black and white uniforms that sported a Puma logo, hinting that they had significant sponsorship. Team Shaolin wore uniforms that looked like a hybrid between soccer uniforms and a Shaolin monk's wardrobe, oversized dark yellow shorts with matching t-shirts tucked in. Their shoes had seen many a practice and needed replacement.
"Look at this guy" the opposing team's captain laughs, pointing to the Team Shaolin goalie, a stock broker whose frail frame made it hard to believe he could swat a fly let alone block a ball. "Or this guy" he said, nodding toward's the eldest brother, smoking a cigarette which was quickly discarded by the referree. He was so busy laughing at the appearance of the team he had no idea what happened when the whistle blew and Sing kicked the ball through the center of the field, curving around the goalie into the goal. crossing the
Team Shaolin arrived at the soccer field for their first game, surprised that no supporters showed up to cheer them on, as their coach promised they would. The captain of the opposing team surveyed his competition as they assumed their positions on the field.
The opposing team wore official looking black and white uniforms that sported a Puma logo, hinting that they had significant sponsorship. Team Shaolin wore uniforms that looked like a hybrid between soccer uniforms and a Shaolin monk's wardrobe, oversized dark yellow shorts with matching t-shirts tucked in. Their shoes had seen many a practice and needed replacement.
"Look at this guy" the opposing team's captain laughs, pointing to the Team Shaolin goalie, a stock broker whose frail frame made it hard to believe he could swat a fly let alone block a ball. "Or this guy" he said, nodding toward's the eldest brother, smoking a cigarette which was quickly discarded by the referree. He was so busy laughing at the appearance of the team he had no idea what happened when the whistle blew and Sing kicked the ball through the center of the field, curving around the goalie into the goal. crossing the
Monday, November 2, 2009
The Date of Our Lives
I was really looking forward to meeting this girl. She seemed really charming from her profile, a gorgeous smile, funny, outgoing. We were supposed to meet at Huey's for a casual dinner at 7. Huey's is one of my favorite restaurants in Memphis. Blues and brews with live music every night. I thought she'd enjoy the upbeat atmosphere. I just wish she would have just told me she had something else going on. At 6:50 she texted me she'd be a few minutes late. And at 7:15 she said she was on her way. She stumbled through the door, frantically looking for me at 7:50. That's the last time I rely on a bust shot for photo. I could tell she had a little meat on her, which was a good thing, but this chick was definitely heavier than I expected, about 30 pounds more. That aside, she still had a gorgeous face, long black hair, enchanting brown eyes, full pouty lips, and a nice rack to top it off. So I figured maybe I can work with that, so I'll stick around. I stand up and wave her over before she asks the hostess for me. So she comes over and gives some lame excuse about car trouble. When I offer to take a look at it, she says "Oh, uh, that's so sweet but no thanks, I don't want to trouble you." I say it's no problem at all, I'd be happy to help. Then she says she's already scheduled to take it in to the shop. So I say, let me save you some money and take a look at it for free. And she says no offense, but she only trusts her baby in the hands of her mechanic. Yeah right, just give up on the lie, nothing was wrong with your car.
Anyway, the waitress comes over and takes our drink orders. It takes her 5 minutes to decide on a drink. She has a question about every beverage on the menu, even the water. "Is it spring or distilled?" Her mouth turned down in one corner for a half-frown when the waitress replied "Tap." She finally decided to go with a drink not even on the menu that the waitress had to check on with the bartender - a mango martini, shaken not stirred (yes, seriously!), chilled to about 40 degrees with "just a spash of triple sec." I joke that she shouldn't be surprised if she finds a piece of steak floating in her glass from the meat thermometer they'll have to use to check the temp, and she stares at me with look of shock and disgust on her face. So I quickly assure her I was just joking, but she just gives one of those fake smiles and says "Oh ok," but I can tell she still can't shake the idea that she should be inspecting everything she orders. I tell the waitress instead of the beer I'll have a Jack and Coke, and make it a double.
We chat for a while about ourselves, where we're from, what we like to do. She warms up again and I start to think maybe she's more easygoing after all. She's genuinely laughing at my jokes and making some witty ones her self. Our drinks come out and she slowly spins the martini glass around, making sure nothing suspect is in her drink. I chuckle and tell her everything's fine, she shouldn't worry about this place it's one of the cleanest restaurants I've been in. But she just smiles and continues to inspect the drink for a solid minute before she takes the first sip. She says they used more than a splash of triple sec, but it's decent. I nearly chug down half my Jack and Coke.
It takes her another 10 minutes to decide on the steak dinner, which I'm surprised she didn't have a set of preparation instructions for. It would have probably helped the waitress out if she did. I chug the rest of my drink and order another with my burger and fries. We resume our conversation, it resumes its warm and congenial flow, and somehow land on the topic of gay rights. While I'm mid-sentence about how I think the whole marriage issue isn't a big deal, she blurts out "I'm a lesbian." At first I think schwing! I hope she has a hot girlfriend who's joining us later! But then I'm reminded her online ad said "Woman seeking Man" and she had posted all the ideal traits of her male counterpart. So I ask her why she placed the ad and she says it was an assignment for her writing class! I'm like what the fuck?! Who gives an assignment to go on a date with someone and impersonate someone you aren't?! Maybe an acting class...but not a writing one! So she actually pulls out her Blackberry and checks her class assignment instructions and realizes she read it wrong. She was supposed to find a personal ad for someone she would never go out with and pretend to go out on a date with them and write about it. Not actually contact the person and go out on the date. What a ditz. Without saying a word I got up and left. She didn't even try to stop me or apologize. It wouldn't have mattered anyway.
Anyway, the waitress comes over and takes our drink orders. It takes her 5 minutes to decide on a drink. She has a question about every beverage on the menu, even the water. "Is it spring or distilled?" Her mouth turned down in one corner for a half-frown when the waitress replied "Tap." She finally decided to go with a drink not even on the menu that the waitress had to check on with the bartender - a mango martini, shaken not stirred (yes, seriously!), chilled to about 40 degrees with "just a spash of triple sec." I joke that she shouldn't be surprised if she finds a piece of steak floating in her glass from the meat thermometer they'll have to use to check the temp, and she stares at me with look of shock and disgust on her face. So I quickly assure her I was just joking, but she just gives one of those fake smiles and says "Oh ok," but I can tell she still can't shake the idea that she should be inspecting everything she orders. I tell the waitress instead of the beer I'll have a Jack and Coke, and make it a double.
We chat for a while about ourselves, where we're from, what we like to do. She warms up again and I start to think maybe she's more easygoing after all. She's genuinely laughing at my jokes and making some witty ones her self. Our drinks come out and she slowly spins the martini glass around, making sure nothing suspect is in her drink. I chuckle and tell her everything's fine, she shouldn't worry about this place it's one of the cleanest restaurants I've been in. But she just smiles and continues to inspect the drink for a solid minute before she takes the first sip. She says they used more than a splash of triple sec, but it's decent. I nearly chug down half my Jack and Coke.
It takes her another 10 minutes to decide on the steak dinner, which I'm surprised she didn't have a set of preparation instructions for. It would have probably helped the waitress out if she did. I chug the rest of my drink and order another with my burger and fries. We resume our conversation, it resumes its warm and congenial flow, and somehow land on the topic of gay rights. While I'm mid-sentence about how I think the whole marriage issue isn't a big deal, she blurts out "I'm a lesbian." At first I think schwing! I hope she has a hot girlfriend who's joining us later! But then I'm reminded her online ad said "Woman seeking Man" and she had posted all the ideal traits of her male counterpart. So I ask her why she placed the ad and she says it was an assignment for her writing class! I'm like what the fuck?! Who gives an assignment to go on a date with someone and impersonate someone you aren't?! Maybe an acting class...but not a writing one! So she actually pulls out her Blackberry and checks her class assignment instructions and realizes she read it wrong. She was supposed to find a personal ad for someone she would never go out with and pretend to go out on a date with them and write about it. Not actually contact the person and go out on the date. What a ditz. Without saying a word I got up and left. She didn't even try to stop me or apologize. It wouldn't have mattered anyway.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Meet Harvey J. Mills
notes from the podcast exercise (to be fleshed out later with dialogue and character description)
setting - down the street from my house
what comfortable thing i'm wearing - my jogging suit and sneakers, going out for a walk
weather is autumn, a warm day for october in mn, but not too warm
sound is repetitive huuuuum-huh, huuuum-huh, huuuum-huh (think of how to describe this using more aural sensory descriptions)
turn the corner and see a man in his mid-forties, with a combover of about 12 strands of hair that only draws more attention to his shiny balding head. he stands about 5'9", hunched over, sitting at the bus stop, in a light brown suit from 1980 with diagonally striped dark orange and white tie, white shirt, with not a wrinkle in sight, polished brown dress shoes and socks to match the suit. Glasses that look too big for his face, the kind that have the bridge at the top of the frame, and the top of the frame is a straight line, but the bottom of the frame is more round. The forehead is wrinked, the eyes we can't really see because his head is lowered, he is looking at a crack in the pavement on the sidewalk. His mouth is closed, actually clenched shut. Lips are pressed together, brow wrinkled, as if he's deep in thought. His arms are folded, he is clutching the sleeves of his jacket on either side, his fingers almost forming fists around the fabric. His legs are spread apart at shoulder's width, feet pointed slightly outwards. He is slightly rocking back and forth as he hums, tapping his foot with each rock.
I say "Good morning"
He says nothing. Keeps humming.
setting - down the street from my house
what comfortable thing i'm wearing - my jogging suit and sneakers, going out for a walk
weather is autumn, a warm day for october in mn, but not too warm
sound is repetitive huuuuum-huh, huuuum-huh, huuuum-huh (think of how to describe this using more aural sensory descriptions)
turn the corner and see a man in his mid-forties, with a combover of about 12 strands of hair that only draws more attention to his shiny balding head. he stands about 5'9", hunched over, sitting at the bus stop, in a light brown suit from 1980 with diagonally striped dark orange and white tie, white shirt, with not a wrinkle in sight, polished brown dress shoes and socks to match the suit. Glasses that look too big for his face, the kind that have the bridge at the top of the frame, and the top of the frame is a straight line, but the bottom of the frame is more round. The forehead is wrinked, the eyes we can't really see because his head is lowered, he is looking at a crack in the pavement on the sidewalk. His mouth is closed, actually clenched shut. Lips are pressed together, brow wrinkled, as if he's deep in thought. His arms are folded, he is clutching the sleeves of his jacket on either side, his fingers almost forming fists around the fabric. His legs are spread apart at shoulder's width, feet pointed slightly outwards. He is slightly rocking back and forth as he hums, tapping his foot with each rock.
I say "Good morning"
He says nothing. Keeps humming.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
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