My cell phone alarm clock rang at 7:10AM waking me from a sound sleep. I had been dreaming about flying and was totally into the heavy visuals of my subconsciousness fantasy. I love flying dreams and haven’t had one in a while. My guess is, that seeing Superman Returns last week stuck with me.
Trying to exercise my creative muscle by writing. Over the last few years I’ve grown fat and soft. Time to reclaim the wasted space in my brain and prepare to live some dreams. . . for real. I’ve always liked to think of myself as a creative person. That person got lost somewhere around the second divorce and 4th retail store going under. We’ll it did make me stronger and now I want to do some fun, interesting and profitable things here in LA.
I like the idea of trying to write more. I’ve always enjoyed writing even though I’ve never really been that good at it. I kind of write like I talk, simple and down to earth. . . not a lot of big words. So here goes nothing, my very first writing exercise. I’m not sure whether I should give myself any parameters like, describing a person I know, a situation. . . etc. Or perhaps just stream of consciousness working with or with out a time limit. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do set the kitchen timer for 10 minutes and see what happens.
Ready, Set. . . GO!
There was a crash and a clatter, the sound of splitting wood. A fist hitting the side of a head hard enough to make the guy spit blood. Strange that this violent program is playing on this TV out here in the middle of nowhere. Standing in the middle of the woods on a chilly autumn morning watching a TV that isn’t even plugged in. Where am I? I wondered, I I noticed the handle of a baseball bat sticking out of the broken glass that once was the screen of a television. At that moment my tongue felt a space in my mouth where one of my teeth used to be. Bringing my hand to my mouth I noticed the blood on my fingers. Nothing was making any sense and I wasn’t all that sure who or where I was.
A fairy appeared, not a gay guy, but a real live fairy, a short little doll baby of a fairy with big tits for a tiny thing. They seemed to kind of weigh her down preventing smooth fairy flight; or maybe she had been drinking or just wasn’t flying right.
Ding, the 10 minute mark - exercise over. Put down your pencils
Not sure what to think of that, but I’ll just move forward. One of the things that I’ve been revisiting in my mind is writing a one man show. The concept is that the show is a theatrical interpretation of my blog and life. Here it is: My story - In 90 minutes I get to take the audience of the ride of my life. The show is made up of many of the pivotal experiences I’ve dealt with. Universal things that many people can relate with on a personal level. Life, death, divorce, pain, overcoming all that shit. It’s a feel good story about growing up, trying to hang desperately on to a dream that was formed as a child. Monologues are broken up with sketches, tricks and audience participation.
The goal here is to keep it real and honest. I would like to start writing the show. I think I will. Right now.