Tri-State Effort

What’s it like being unemployed?  Being laid off from your job… is a bountiful experience.  Pretty, pretty time all to meself.  Oneself feels the freedom of not receiving checks from the government.  One feels exhilirated at the fact that a job search is unnecessary, and takes full advantage of the time one is given to do whatever the fuck they want to do.  If it’s listening to Serge Gainsbourg while drinking Shiner Bock, SO BE IT!  If it’s writing a story one has had locked away in the furthest recesses of ones’ mind – WRITE IT!  If it’s biking in the rain, running in the sun, sitting in a hot tub for more than time allows – A LIFE OF LUXURY!  But what happens when it’s time to go searching?

What happens when it’s time to leave?  What will you do when they charge you for that broken window shade?  It was old and cracking anyway.  I left a carpet for them.  Keep the carpet.  That’s my contribution.  What happens when it’s time to move to Austin?  You’ll have the receipt.  You’ll have a free ticket to stay for a week.  Don’t drink it off.  Don’t have fun, you’re there to research the job marketplace, to find a job! to explore the film community.  You will have seven days to make a name for yourself as a prospective resident of one of the weirdest cities in North America.  You can do it.  You can do it.

What a mustache that guy had!

Touche', old chap, touche'.

Perfect in every way imaginable

This is weird.

I tried to kill myself earlier this week.  Knew it wouldn’t work, though.  I could’ve taken seven – I even lied to the police about how much I took.  Felt like a pussy for not taking seven, I took six instead.

I went to a strip club for reasons that seemed natural.  The stripper’s name wasn’t important.  She was dressed in a nurse’s uniform.  She was nice, and we talked a lot actually.  She told me if I killed myself I would go to hell.  I don’t believe in that shit – heaven or hell – yet she was very convincing.  Said she’d suck me off for $200 bucks.  Then it was that she would fuck me $150.  She was quite the saleswoman.

I don’t know what to do.  There are so many choices for my future that I am overwhelmed with the idea of deciding on one path.  I want to leave Minnesota forever.  I do not want to return.  Yet there are those who are trying to convince me that my stay is needed, that I belong here.  This is far from the truth, and no matter how much they try to persuade me with riches, women, the prospects of success, my exit is ultimately a truth.

These “episodes” I have are being considered psychotic.  I’m not paranoid, because I can see it on their faces, in their eyes, I can see their motives.  I know it’s too late to start again, otherwise I would have made it by now.  What do they want from me?  To stay here? in the cold? in isolation? in the shitty city of minneapolis? Why can’t I leave?  I have to leave, otherwise I’ll be stuck here for another two years… and that idea scares me to death.

So he leaves.  He leaves everything and everyone behind.  If they cannot keep up with me, to bad, he thinks.

I have a recurring dream that I am a hostage to a powerful group, vicious, with the intent on torturing me.  My feet are clamped to a device which is attached to the ceiling, I hang upside down.  The goons torture me and I feel threatened for my life.  Somehow I was lowered out of the clamp, saved by a group of leather-clad freedom fighters (or something like that).  I turned on the water too high, and the room became flooded with water.  It was difficult to turn the switch because I could not find it at first, the water was too muddy, and the grass that I had planted was free flowing everywhere, and I had to swim underneath – I had to miniaturize myself in order to find the switch and turn down the flow of water.

I should be starting work next week.  Doing lawn maintenance, this should keep me in shape, keep me sane and having money is always a good thing when you don’t have it.  I am going to save as much money as I possibly can.  When I tell people I want to move away from Minneapolis, they don’t seem to understand, and then I mention the weather situation, and that the weather – -literally, the weather, is what is keeping me from staying.  I need to be some place warm.  The weather really affects me in a chaotic way.

I ran five miles on Monday, which surprised me because only two days before I was boozing it up, smoking and drinking.  My comic book is near to completion, the final page count should be close to forty seven pages.  I still have much more paper in the sketch book to elaborate on some of the stories, but as they stand now it’s very direct, terse, economized in its use of the page.

Trying to adapt a book into a screenplay.  This new venture is exciting.  I’m taking someone else’s story and interpreting it.  I am becoming the new author.  I have accumulated two other books by the author, Charles Willeford, in order to gain more insight into the man’s voice, the cadence of his words & language.

At the moment I am creating a synopsis for each chapter.  When I have all of the chapters completed, I will look at the story in its entirety.  From there, I will compress the story in some places where needed, cut and condense certain character’s appearances, tool with the notion of dialogue, and ultimately replace the film noir narration with visuals.  I thought I would start off with a simple story, one which, while it has its complexities in its characters’ lives, is graceful in its plot.  There really isn’t a plot, which is why I liked the book.  The book isn’t like most crime fiction, where the story is propelled by action or situations (stick-up, bank heist, murder, mysteries, etc.), the story is propelled through character.  I can definitely relate to the characters in this story also, which is another reason – most likely the best – I have chosen this one to rewrite.

The original story takes place in the 1950’s, but, after reading my synopsises I will look for the differences in jobs, location, economy, language, etc., and update it to be current.  This is the new script I’m working on.  The last four feature scripts I’ve written have all been original, of course taking bits and pieces of my influences and sliding them in, so this will be a first.  A good exercise for future writing, an excellent opportunity for the time being.

No more alcohol.  No more cigarettes.  No more beef.  No more tuna.  No more chips.  No pizza, no lasagna, no hot dogs, no meatball hoagies, no pancakes, none of that shit.  No more apples.  No more bananas.  No more broccoli.  No vegetables or fruits of any kind.  No processed foods packaged in recycled materials.  Run, run, run, run into the wind.  Walk it off.  Get a haircut.  Haircut… that one word, hair cut?  S’pose it is.  Lots of new movies being released this year look good.  Stopped watching the trailer for “Funny People” halfway through because it was showing the entire movie.

Been running as much as I can lately.  I don’t know how far I am getting, but day after day I go further than before, and I grow tired less and less.  On the odd days I run, even – bike, now that it’s the right weather to.  I keep it simple and smart, then I go back and add more detail to the picture.  Planning the days takes time, keeping myself organized.  Drawing, writing, playing trivia every Thursday – winning every week.  Gets free beer and food for winning.  Soon the beer will disappear, and I will no longer think of it as a choice to not drink it, it will simply not exist in my life anymore.

I am out of shape and I am very ashamed with myself.  No one will hire me.  I want to move out of Minnesota so bad.  I want to be some place else so much.  I set my sights on Austin, Texas.  I am not sure it will happen.  Will I be allowed to move back to Chicago?  I want to keep moving.  I want to keep moving.  I want to keep moving, got to keep moving.  Can’t stop now.  One day at a time.  One day at a time.  I wonder when I’m going to die, and since it’s not this moment, how much longer do I have to go?  I’m stuck in this fucking state.  Stuck here.  Stuck in a state of isolation called Minnesota.

Okay, okay… okay.  Watching the academy awards last night definitely put some inspiration back into my bloodstream.  Every year I sort of question the validity of my dreams, then I am sitting somewhere watching the awards and I become enthralled in all of the hoopla surrounding the presentation.  I won’t lie and say that I don’t want to be there, or that I wouldn’t want to be in the movies, but I do, I really, really do.  I can feel its reach closer than before, and the prospect of doing what I love for a living – writing, filmmaking – seems distant yet the reality is undeniably attainable.

Now I am sure that when I am paying attention to Cannes this year I will feel the same way.  I mean, just look at this lineup:

Broken Embraces (Pedro Almodovar)
Antichrist (Lars Von Trier)
The White Ribbon (Michael Haneke)
Inglourious Basterds (Quentin Tarantino)
Bright Star (Jane Campion)
Taking Woodstock (Ang Lee)
The Limits of Control (Jim Jarmusch)
Forgiveness (Todd Solondz)
A Serious Man (Joel and Ethan Coen)
The Girlfriend Experience (Steven Soderbergh)
The Informant (Steven Soderbergh)
The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus (Terry Gilliam)
Ondine (Neil Jordan)
Agora (Alejandro Amenabar)
Looking For Eric (Ken Loach)
White Material (Claire Denis)
Enter the Void (Gaspar Noe)
Thirst (Park Chan-wook)
Face (Tsai Ming-liang)
Vengeance (Johnny To)
Nymph (Pen-ek Ratanaruang)
Mother (Bong Joon Ho)

I need some inspiration.  I need a change.  I want to create something again… spring is upon me, I think.

I drew an old man earlier tonight.  Before that I ate a turkey sandwich, with garlic pita chips.  Twenty minutes before opening a bottle of Reed’s Ginger Brew I was helping Abdullahi through the halls of Eastern Heights to his bus ride home.  One hour before picking up a pile of legos from off the floor, I was playing a word game with three five-year olds – I mustered as much patience as I could and somehow I got it through two hours with a rotating class of kindergartners without losing my cool.  Upon walking down the street I quarrelled whether I should wait inside the coffee house until someone left the free computers w/ internet, or keep moving.  I have noticed how much patience, concentration and focus I have since losing my headphones.  I no longer listen to my iPod anymore when I walk around town, the piece of machinary does not rule my life to wreck my earbuds.  My attention to the sounds of life is zeroing in on the splash, the piece of conversation caught off guard, the screeching of brakes and the twittering of birds; different noises to intrude into my brain rather than FUCK FUCK FUCKFUCK FUCK FUC KFUCK.

I did not want to wake up today, but I nonetheless felt comfortable and willing to go through another day.  The sense of dread and hopelessness is always there, I only knew I could deal with it today without much stress.  The alarm went off right before I turned it off.  Somewhere in the middle I became an hour less than what I imagined.