| (no subject) |
[Sep. 8th, 2009|05:25 pm] |
|
Anyone want to be in a short film being done this weekend? |
|
|
| bikes and the people who can't |
[Jun. 15th, 2009|09:51 pm] |
I was riding my bike around the lake today. Somewhere in Spring Lake (on the bike path of course) I saw three teenage boys not on their bikes, but instead stopped. One was closer to me while the other two were watching with bizarre expressions. The one I was quickly approaching had a weird looking arm (kind of disjointed and elongated) and looked at me all funny, yelling something. I figured that it was rude to stare so I kept listening to some music as I continued pedaling. The song ended as I passed and I could hear the one in front shouting that his arm was broken. I turned briefly and thought about doing something, but the moment was fleeting. I mean, there was nothing for me to do. Others were already approaching. I was almost hit by three cars after that. |
|
|
| The Many Sides Of Imaginary Jones |
[Feb. 1st, 2009|08:41 pm] |
|
I just got done having a conversation with my nephew concerning an Indian Jones show I am convinced doesn't exist (and I do not refer to the 90's Young Indiana Jones Chronicles). The thing is, Indian Jones (the good one) does not carry a whip, but instead a stick that can transform into one. The bad Indiana Jones (I assume bizzaro world style) does his best to kill the good one. They sounded pretty much evenly matched, until he described the gun that the good Indiana Jones carries. The gun shoots (and I was sure to write this down) knives, sticks, chainsaws, teeth, blood, bloodsuckers, and mosquitos. I want to see this show. Someone make it happen. |
|
|
| a thing that happened |
[Jul. 1st, 2008|09:33 pm] |
My grandpa came to live with us when I turned twelve. He slept in the basement bedroom, forcing my brother to live in my room. My parents decided to get us bunk beds, because clearly they were the fun choice. As he was five years older than me, he often kicked me out whenever he brought a girl over. Needless to say, I really wanted my grandpa out of the house.
I think it was when I turned fifteen and my brother moved out of the house that I began to wonder why my grandpa was still living with us. He was in seemingly good health, which he wasn’t when he moved in with us. I stupidly had convinced myself that he would move out if his health returned. I asked my dad about it and he told me that I was being rude and should get used to having him around.
I had a permit to drive, but of course needed an adult to be in the car with me. My dad and grandpa conspired to have me drive him to a hat store on the other side of town. A hat store. This just seemed like a horrible thing to do. After all why would a kid want to drive his cranky old grandfather to the other side of town to a stupid hat store? I had no choice though, because I wanted my allowance for the week and that would be the only way to get it.
The trip started out like a dream because he never talked. He just sat there in his crusty corduroy jacket, staring out the window. I was afraid to turn on the radio because he might complain, and I was growing fond of his silence. But that silence was short lived. We passed the main part of town where people were walking and his head shot right up.
“Look at those kids. Look like goddamn Jews.” He turned to me and smiled a bit. “Don’t tell your mom I said that. About Jews.”
“Ok.”
When we pulled up to the hat store, he told me to wait in the car. I waited there for twenty minutes, a length of time that felt more so like twenty hours. He came back with nothing new.
“No hats?”
“None I wanted.”
“Want to go anywhere else?”
He picked his nose and looked over at me. “Let’s go get some food. I’ve got an appetite.”
He looked pretty tired so I decided to find a local diner, anything that would cheer him up. I never would have thought anyone could have gotten worn out while looking for hats. I could go to a mall for an entire afternoon and feel fine, but I guess that has to do with age. At that age I never thought much about getting old, other than knowing that I never wanted to pass age fifty. I pulled the car into a parking lot by a little diner called The Horse Coral. I asked him if it would be okay and he took off his seat belt. Assuming that he felt it a nice place to eat, I shut off the engine and got out of the car.
He was quick to lead the way inside. We sat at a corner booth. He said that he was out of cash, that I would have to pay. It made some sense, seeing as how he ended up not getting a hat from the store. I only had ten bucks on me, so I limited him to a coffee and muffin. I had a Coke. I didn’t want to talk to him, but he was always one to talk.
“So, what are you up to next week?”
“Um, School.”
“After school I mean. Like are you doing anything then?”
I thought for a moment, trying to come up with anything that would get me out of doing whatever he would want me to do. “I guess not, I don’t think I mean.”
He set down his cup and gave me a smile. I had rarely seen him smile so that expression threw me a bit.
“So can you get me to the hat store again next Thursday?
“Why do you need to go again?” It seemed pointless to ask, but I felt compelled.
“To see if they get any new ones in. I like the owner there. He’s a good guy.”
I reluctantly agreed. We stayed at the diner for maybe twenty minutes altogether. He didn’t say another word to me while we were there. I guess I was happy about it, but it got boring after a few minutes. It started to rain outside so we left.
I barely talked to him at all for the next week. I was too busy trying to build a model of an atom for biology class. Lanthanum was a stupid choice. I hated that class anyways, aside from this girl Amy who used to sit next to me. I had this big crush on her, not that I ever did anything about it, but it was there. Wednesday was boring, because I stayed home sick. It was probably just some kind of stomach flue.
On Thursday, we left for the hat store around four in the afternoon. He seemed really excited to go shopping. When we got there, he once again made me stay in the car.
I guess it didn’t make me angry. Hat stores weren’t the things that turned me on. Twenty or so minutes later he came back with no hat and we went to The Horse Coral diner. These trips would happen every Thursday for the next two and a half years. Not once did he ever buy a hat, even when he lost most of his hair.
He had a stroke at the beginning of my senior year that prevented him from going anywhere. I felt bad about it, but my mom told me that I should feel lucky that I got to spend so much time with him when he was well. I knew she was right. I mean, we did end up talking more. It turns out that he was in the Second World War and had killed three men and was a bit anti-Semitic. He was about the most relaxed guy though. One vitamin one day a week followed by our trip to the hat store every Thursday. At some point I figured that was the way to grow old. Piss the hell out of people and do what you feel like doing.
Before he died, he would talk to me most nights, if he was feeling well enough. It was one of the last conversations we had that I remember the most. He looked like death, half leaning up in his bed. He smiled when I came in and sat in that brown chair next to the bed. I still have that chair in my apartment. I might get rid of it someday, but not anytime soon. Anyways, he looked somehow optimistic.
“How you doing, with, women right now?”
The question seemed a bit odd bordering on creepy. “Ok, I guess.”
“You got a girlfriend?”
“Um, no. Not right now.”
“I just want to thank you for taking me to the hat store for the last few years.”
“Oh it’s, don’t worry about it.”
“You should go there. I bought a few hats for you.”
“Oh. Um. Thank you grandpa. I’ll head down there.”
He handed me a sealed envelope and asked me not to open it or to retrieve the hats until after he died. I promised that I wouldn’t and kept the letter in my car.
He died on a Wednesday. None of us were surprised when it happened, he was old. I started to feel better about myself and decided to ask out this girl Michelle. I guess it was my grandpa who got me to that point where I felt I could. And she was beautiful, everything about her. We decided for our first date to go to a movie. The theater being at the edge of town, I knew we would pass the hat store. I pulled up in front and remembered the letter, which I had kept in the glove compartment. She smiled as I leaned across her and opened it up and took the letter.
“I’ll be right back. I have to check on something.”
I opened up the letter and read it to myself. It said there was a password to get my hat, which seemed odd. I walked inside and told the woman behind the counter about the hat and the password, she smiled.
I left soon after and kind of rushed back into the car. Michelle seemed confused, as she should have been.
“Where’s the hat?”
“I don’t think it’s the hat for me right now.”
She accepted it and we went to a movie. We stayed together for a year before I left for college. I never told her about that letter or the fact that the hat store was a brothel. |
|
|
| manic in the picnic |
[Apr. 10th, 2008|01:50 am] |
Another ho hum, hum drum of a day aside from the casual reminders of nothingness and things to come. There's perhaps two or three funny anecdotes which are set to private. I'm mixing audio for my senior thesis and sweet damn, this thing is providing me with an ulcer. The car crash rap song should help in some way. I do some more training at Meijer tomorrow. Egad, this should be something if not a reminder of what I used to detest. But I digress, at least I get paid.
It's funny how life's little melodrama's pan out to be fun writing material. Not that it will go here, but a place in a different setting, most likely a script or short story. I'm starting work on a new play called "My Semester With Ted" about two freshman sharing a dorm-room, one driving the other bonkers. Ted Kasinski and Steven Hawking. Take that, science.
Well, off to the devil's playground for a run in with dreams and what-have-you's. |
|
|
| And when I say Goodbye, it means I want to fucking love you forever |
[Apr. 6th, 2008|02:12 am] |
Has it been so long? Has the world been confined to hopeless lusts and countless unnamed? OH well, who is to say what is right and what is absurd? The family plan that I was raised upon has gone the way of the buffalo I suppose. Perhaps my voice is not what it once was and no one will seem to care But alas Fortuna, I will respond to your ineptitude for this night. I went hiking today, and yes it was the path mostly that I have traveled before. But when I got to the end, what I noticed was unlike the before. There was water everywhere. I know, awesome right? No. But I found a dry path, sat, and read. But others were out there too. I though to myself "Egad, what are these rubards doing out here?" but as soon as I thought it they were gone. All aside from what I call Stan (not that Stan was his name, I simply call him that because he looked like a Stan and with that mustache, I mean Jesus God you would have to agree). He walked though a watery muck while I sat beside a tree with my copy of "The House Of Leaves." He frantically monologued his experience (which I wish I recorded, though I was more concerned with the novel, which you should read) and I watched as he built a bridge of sorts in the water. I closed my book after a while, fearing that he would stab or convert me in some way. He said not to worry. That a simple bridge was complete. i said it was okay that I would return as I had come through the dry path (which I suppose he had no former knowledge about). He disclosed his anger at me as I briskly walked, knife in hand away from him. I got lost, but was alone. So better off than with a monger of sorts, a bridge monger.
I am finishing off a senior thesis, a short film and am having much fun with it.
Well. I hope to communicate with my friends in the future as I move on back to my former home. As I move on back towards my former place of wishing i was no longer where I am and think I could get out of if only I could get on the ball and grow up for once. |
|
|
| remember when you lost your pants? I do |
[Jun. 9th, 2007|07:52 pm] |
So i finally got a chance to go home to Fruitport today. I even went to some high school open houses and much to my dismay, no potato salad. Anger consumed me. I did have plenty of cheese potatos though so that worked out. My super cool mom bought me Meatballs on DVD. Such a great movie. She also bought me food, which is nice. I saw the Grind House today. Phill's that is. Hey Phill, get ahold of me so we can hang out sometime this week. After this Friday I become a dslave to the film that I am helping on until August. Tonight I plan to watch The Fearless Vampire Killers and relax with the company of myself. |
|
|
| striking the name of life in the name of devience |
[May. 19th, 2007|09:31 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | oliver the musical | ] |
sometimes you think about a wish to end your train of thought, or maybe even the way you are living your life. is everything going wrong? Is anything? You may feel your whole world crashing down around you when the key bread winner loses his or her bread. Such is my life and the life of many others before me.
With writing, all is well. I am peaking perhaps. Evrything else has come to stand witness to pointlessness. Thank you for nothing world. I have my movies to watch. Oh sighness. I sit at my gazebo day and night somehow not gaining a tan reading books. I will have coffee with you soon. See you at the Coney, just make the date. and you Fortuna, you are a wicked bitch. Make yourself right and I may forgive you.
Bruce Campbell, where are you? |
|
|
| everybody is working for the weekend |
[May. 13th, 2007|07:39 pm] |
Not having a job is good and bad. good to not work, bad to not have income. But it does warrant one to work on a script. That is nice
I saw Spiderman 3. Oh my goodness. Lame. I could dip my eyes in acid and tear out my heart before coming to terms with my sense of hatred for this film. Damn you Raimi. I trusted you. The world trusted you. Thank god for Heroes.
I wish I had a car. and a transmission for that car
I love japanese 1960's B-movies. Now, take care and good night. I would kill for a demerol |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[May. 4th, 2007|12:47 pm] |
I dont want this to come out wrong,
i think i blew a tranny
cars are jerks |
|
|
| it would be dishonest to say that I knew Danni well |
[May. 2nd, 2007|02:55 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | ELO- sweet talkin woman | ] |
A's and B's for me this semester. More B's than A's.
I am working on a new screenplay.
I need another one.
I finally rented Mean Streets, fantastic.
Dirty Bastard.
The sun is out but I am stuck at the computer. Words again. Shrugging. Second guessing. I'll leave soon enough.
Time to have fun. |
|
|
| no aumento de sueldo |
[Mar. 19th, 2007|08:44 am] |
So Colonel Paddington is definitely a girl. And pregnant. So, yeah, thats about it.
Cindy, Lauren and I are going to buy a cat today. That is to say that Cindy is, I on the other hand will be watching as she picks it out with a disapproving frown and headshake, or a enthusiastic smile and a head shake. Either way, my head will be shaking tonight.
Seven o'clock at the Alumni House is Joe Wenderoth. Not that he is my favorite poet, but he is a lot of fun and worth seeing.
I need a new adventure today.
but first my Spanish test |
|
|
| The incident involving cats and unleaded feul |
[Mar. 16th, 2007|08:44 am] |
Today when i was about to leave for class, I noticed a cat by the stairs leading to our backyard, so naturally i called it over, expecting for it to run the other way. But nay, the cat happily ran to me as I bent down and started petting it. After two minutes I realized that I couldn't just drive off so I walked out to the gazebo while it followed by my side. It was neat petting it on my lap while watching over the city from high up on our hill. Colonel Paddington, I hope you are there when I return. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Mar. 9th, 2007|11:08 am] |
rooftop rhombus.
the new house is emptyish. i have my congas there to entertain me. drove to clevland on tuesday. saw INLAND EMPIRE. worth it. I have no internet at the house. I am at my old apartment. strange rooftop sounds.
again goodnight. |
|
|
| one time no way |
[Mar. 1st, 2007|07:50 pm] |
I got a new house on Tuesday. It's better than yours. Yes. Good luck finally. And I have a dungeon. Ladies. |
|
|
| when you are in my eyes i smile |
[Feb. 24th, 2007|09:17 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | Rhymefest- Devil's Pie | ] |
Sadness consumes even the mighty tree in an anotherwise dry field of forest. I was supposed to move into a new house today. Signed a lease. Paid. The only time we got to see the place was at night, Shady. We also knew that there was garbage, but it would be picked up. Shady. So when we got there this morning, after stepping inside, we called the landlord, whom i work with, and told them to fuck themselves. In theory, we will be getting the money and the lease back tomorrow. Now though, now I am homeless, sleeping on the couch of a former roomate until we can find a place to live. This could be it, end. On a pleasent note, my mom bought beer for my roomie. he is gone, so it becomes mine. i hate to want. i do.. |
|
|
| THC and DeJa Vu |
[Feb. 6th, 2007|09:42 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | science of sleep | ] |
Yesterday after work and finding out my friend was unexpectadely going to soon be a father, we ventured to my apartment to watch a movie. I did not at first expect him to come, as I had not invited him, but it was his movie I was borrowing. After fifteen minutes he started getting edgy about needing a smoke break. He threw on his shoes and stepped outside, neglecting his coat, while I paused the movie. I waited. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. My phone rings. "I couldnt remember which door was yours so I went home." I am confused. We talk about wanting to watch the movie with the conversation playing out almost word for word as it had an hour earlier. So we agree that I will meet him at Wendys in the parking lot in five minutes. I leave right away just to be sure, and I wait. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes. I call the house he called from earlier. "Hey Brian, sorry, I lost your number, anyways I couldnt remember which door was yours so I left." I stop to think, remembering how the situation will play out. I dont feel like dancing so I get to the end, "let's just meet at the Wendys parking lot." He agrees. Ten minutes later he arrives. He follows me to my apartment but leaves soon after, very much stoned.
I got an A on my last speech concerning Richard P. Feynman. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Feb. 4th, 2007|05:07 pm] |
|
Pistons beat the Cavs. Now Colts will beat the Bears by 10. Ladies, please. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Feb. 2nd, 2007|09:46 pm] |
|
if you ever try to be someone, you'll never be anyone. |
|
|
| endless examples of forgone information |
[Jan. 30th, 2007|09:49 pm] |
A series of bad might lead to something good.
My photos didnt turn out as well as I had hoped. I still thank all who helped.
My speech on the late great Dr. Feynman unfolded as I approached the introduction, falling into a pit of mispoken names and falsified information about legal transcripts. Woops. No indictment here.
After class I spotted some free time and after weighing some options went to the movies and saw "Smoking Aces." Aside from a few good performances from Ryan Reynolds and Jason Bateman, the film was utterly trite with an ending as predictable as Michael Jackson at a Cub Scout retreat.
One more month.
and then it is it
and then it is it
and then it is it
and then |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
woodypants's journal